Birth of a New Baby Sock

Aww. Look at how cute and tiny it is! It's only four rows old.

Cherry Tree Hill Supersock in the Country Garden colorway. These colors are insanely beautiful. I want to dive into that teal blue and swim laps. The cuff is on size 1 Brittany Birches, and the body of the sock will be knit on size 1.5 Crystal Palace DPNs, my all-time favorite, all-purpose sock needles. I adore these needles. They're slick like aluminum, but grip the yarn like bamboo. Plus the size 1.5 --no, that's not a typo -- is exactly right for most medium weight sock yarn.

In other news, I've got a raging cold and might have to miss SnB tonight. I'm going to lay down for a bit and see how I feel later. Sob! I want to go to SnB!

FO: Purple Magic Socks

Eenie weenie teenie socks. To make them grow, just add a foot:

Ooooh. Aaaah. It's magic!

And here is the man behind the curtain. See all those faintly blurry cables? They make this very roomy and comfy pair of socks draw in tightly when they're off my feet. FWIW, some of that blurriness is due to the fiber content of the yarn. There's a healthy dash of mohair in there, and the socks are a bit blurry in person. But you can sort of see the pattern. And two mystery pieces of lint that give it that certain je ne sais quoi.

Anyway.

The stats.

Yarn: Mountain Colors Bearfoot, color Grape, purchased at Nana's Knits in, er, Decemberish.

Pattern: 4-stitch baby cable from Charlene Schurch's Sensational Knitted Socks.

Results: This yarn knits like a dream. I used size 2 DPNs, 56 stitches per round, at a gauge of around 7 stitches to the inch in the stockinette portion. I think this yarn could stand to be knit at 8sts/inch, but anything tighter than that would start to get plywoody. This is my second pair of socks in this yarn, and the first were a bit too loose in gauge -- only about 6.5 stitches to the inch -- and they developed a halo of sorts from wear. I'm hoping a tighter gauge will diminsh that. I don't much care to pick clouds of fuzz off my socks!

I have a habit of starting a new pair of socks the same day I finish a pair, so tomorrow, I'll show you the new sock-in-progress. You will all be astounded and amazed to discover it has purple in it.

Score 3 Points to the Imps of Inconvenience

Paroled!

Look closely at that picture, and you'll see why this project is on parole instead of completely out of knitting jail. Damn miscrossed cables. The parole officer (a/k/a/ me!) is preparing to duplicate stitch over the miscross, because the thought of tinking back this far (over 10") just makes me want to cry. And I can't ladder that far down through this particular cable pattern. There are just to many layers of cables for that.

This is what the pattern is supposed to look like. See how well-behaved these cables are? See how they arch away from each other? These cables get to go to finishing school instead of to reform school.

Here's the vest front with the shoulders ripped back to the point before my math went wonky. I figure I have another 5 or so inches of knitting on either side of the V neck, and then this is ready for blocking.

Which leads to an important question. Do I fix the miscrossed cable before or after blocking? I can think of reasons for and against either method, but would like to hear from anyone with real experience in this kind of repair.

Slush and a Book Report

I would like it duly noted for the record that I spent most of Easter Sunday, Monday and Tuesday busting the slush on the left hand side of my desk so that I could open my shutters and look out my window at the pretty spring courtyard.

At which point, the Imps of Inconvenience said, "You think you can get rid of slush? Watch this!" And then they conspired to dump a load of a different kind of slush all over my pretty view. The bastards.

Book Report

Anyway, with all that paper off my desk, I felt able to read something other than a submission. So I finished the Harlot's new book, "Stephanie Pearl-McPhee Casts Off: The Yarn Harlot's Guide to the Land of Knitting."

I've heard a little minor grumbling about this book, and I think I understand why. Don't get me wrong. I loved reading it. It's an extremely well-executed delivery of a high concept premise. It's clever, too, but we knew it would be. She's a clever writer, and she obviously thought through this book very carefully as she was preparing the manuscript.

She avoids the pitfalls that often trip up writers trying to deliver a high concept book like this. She kept the tone consistent, which must be hard to do, given the failure of so many similar books to remain consistent. And -- more important, to my way of thinking -- she kept it fresh all the way through the text. How many times have you read a nonfiction book and discovered that it was little more than a great first chapter, followed by various restatements of that first chapter? Books like that are thin and stale, and Stephanie's absolutely does not fall into this category. Her concept was strong enough and deep enough to sustain the entire book. It held my attention and never felt like it was repeating itself.

For those of you who haven't seen the book, the premise is fairly simple. She equates knitting to a foreign land, and the book is meant to serve as a travel guide for visitors. The book is broken into sections on population, geography, health warnings, customs and traditions, sports and culture, and so on, and each section talks about the bits and pieces of the knitting lifestyle in a different context from what we're used to. For example, the section on Politics talks about typical knitting debates -- straight vs. circular, acrylic vs. natural -- and classifies people who hate knitting as "enemies of the state." Clever. Witty, even.

So I really enjoyed the book. But it didn't quite read like the other Harlot books, did it? I've been struggling to understand what makes this one feel different, and I think I finally hit on it. Even though this book is meant for knitters, because it's a travel guide, it had to be written as if it were meant for strangers to knitting. Or, at least, it had to make a nod at that kind of tone. The other Harlot books have a very cozy, welcoming, "us girls" kind of feel to them. Apologies to male knitters -- that's not meant to be sexist, and her books aren't sexist. It's just the best way I can think of to describe the friendly, inclusive tone. Because those previous books are very friendly and inclusive, and I think some of that was necessarily sacrificed for this new book.

When you read it, read it with fresh eyes. Don't go into these pages expecting to find what's already been done before. It's new and different, and in this case, different doesn't mean bad. I liked this book, I laughed out loud many times, and I recommend it heartily. I admire the author for stretching, and especially for keeping her writing so fresh. I don't know how she does it. But she does, and the book succeeds.

Anatomy of an Obsession

In 12 days, I leave for RT, which is a five-day publishing conference in Houston. The RT organizers haven't yet provided me with my schedule, but I know that at least part of the time I will be in meetings and speaking at a workshop. And the rest of the time? Who knows. I could be swamped, or I could be lounging poolside with my yarn and needles.

Which brings me to the central question that's been occupying my every waking moment for the last 48 hours.

Which knitting should I pack?

My thoughts on the matter are starting to wear a groove in my brain. The path looks something like this:

1. I need knitting for the plane and the airports. Security is unpredictable, and with my luck, I'd be the knitter who loses her needles to security. Best to take something that can come off the needles without too much damage. No lace. No cables. Something simple. A plain stockinette sock, maybe. I have boxes of stashed sock yarn and plenty of DPNs.

2. But plastic needles get through security more readily, and I have those "kids can knit" shortie plastic needles which would be perfect for a skinny scarf. And I have that handpainted silk which would also be perfect for a skinny scarf. Which means I would have to decide between the cat's paw and the diamond trellis pattern. I've been dithering over that one for months already. Am I really capable of deciding this question in the next twelve days? Ha. Not even close.

3. Plus, it's lace. If they make me surrender my needles, I'd never get it back on in proper order. I'm just not that good at lace yet. Maybe I should go buy something new to put on those kid scarf needles.

4. NO! I have enough stash, dammit.

5. But Nana's Knits is having a trunk show next week. And it's all those Tahki Stacy Charles yarns. I love that stuff. Have they ever made a bad yarn?

6. CRAP! Stop thinking about buying more yarn already! Take either a sock or the handpainted scarf on the airplane. Done. Or take both. And done.

7. Except that's not very much knitting. What if I have a lot of knitting time during the conference? I could wind up spending days in the lounge, networking and knitting. And drinking, but that's a whole other issue.

8. I Could Run Out Of Knitting!!!!

9. I could so.

10. (panic)

11. I better take some sweater yarn, too. Just in case. Something big enough to keep me from panicking about running out of knitting. I could take my husband. Or something new. God knows there's plenty in my stash to choose from. I'd have to pack the straight needles in my suitcase, and probably the yarn if there's a lot of it. I have hardly begun to think through the clothing options, but I know I need business wear for the day, and all those freaking costumes for the parties, and maybe just a couple casual outfits for between times. That's a lot to fit into the suitcase for a five-day conference.

12. Of course, there is that yarn shop in Houston. I kinda want to check it out anyway. Bring home some souvenir yarn. They carry Muench. And Fiesta. I've never actually fondled a Fiesta yarn. Can I do it and retain control over my wallet?

13. My suitcase is only so big. Might have to mail my purchases home.

14. Screw that. Mail the costumes home, keep the yarn near to hand. But what if they lose my suitcase with all that lovely new yarn inside? Better carry on as much as I can. I'll need knitting for the plane anyway.

15. Repeat steps 1 through 14 ad infinitum.

The Things We Do For Love

I'm one of those lucky people with strong, positive family relationships. I actually like my parents and enjoy the time we spend together. My brother is one of my favorite people, and has been since the day he was born. And my nieces and nephews? Smitten. Completely and totally and helplessly smitten.

Here's the all the proof we need of that:

Miss Six, our very own kindergarten diva, has a keen fashion sense and the confidence to use it. Her preferences run to anything pink, sparkly, pink, sequined, pink, glittery, or pink. I'm very sorry to tell you that one day, while innocently shopping with Miss Six in our local Tarzhay, she spotted a ball of what might be referred to very loosely as "yarn."

It's not yarn as you and I might know it. Aside from the fact that it is long and thin and wound into a vaguely ball-shaped blob, it has little in common with actual yarn. In fact, calling it yarn probably insults all the other yarns. It's more like a cheap rayon embroidery thread with these weird flat fringey blocks every inch or so. Here, take a closer look at a strand of this stuff laid across my sleeve. The seam on the right of this picture is the cuff seam and might give you some idea of scale. The central thread on this so-called yarn is no thicker than the line on a t-shirt seam.

Can you believe that anyone would put the word "yarn" on the label of this stuff?

Whatever we call it, in the eyes of Miss Six, its value was above rubies. She took one look at it, gasped like a true diva, and started rubbing the yarn on her cheeks. Then she refused to put it down. (Those of you who have been yarn shopping with me will note the family resemblance there. Miss Six has all the makings of an obsessed knitter.)

In her eyes, this yarn has several things going for it. It's pink in places. It's shiny. It's very soft to the touch. It's got lots of other colors generally reckoned "good for girls" by the kindergarten fashion cabal. As an added bonus, it's fun to reel out a length and brush the fringey parts over your skin. Kinda tickles.

So. After I capitulated -- it helped that the yarn was from the dollar section of the store and had been marked 75% off -- we brought the yarn home and she's been playing with it ever since. For months, she asked me to knit her something out of this stuff, but couldn't decide what. Finally, after long deliberation, I sort of made the executive decision to make her a little head scarf, one of those triangle things that ties under your hair. She wears these sometimes, so I figure she'll like it. As an added bonus, it will use only about half the blobby skein, so she'll still be able to play tickle with the leftovers.

The knitting is torture. The needles fall out of the stitches. The yarn has -zero- elasticity. I've seen cement blocks that were stretchier than this yarn.

And somehow, my intense hatred of this yarn doesn't matter. All that matters is knowing how she'll sparkle when she sees her new scarf.

But I'd still like to finish this thing quickly and never ever knit with this yarn again.