Shedir, Shedone

Here is the finished but unblocked Shedir. It's going to need a lot of blocking. I found the Rowan Calmer a bit tricky to work with this pattern -- in fact, compared to my earlier rendition of this pattern in Dolly merino, this one looks downright clumsy and clumpy. I didn't have to block the merino Shedir at all. This one, I'll have to go over stitch by stitch to tease into shape.

But the Rowan Calmer does have one thing over the merino -- the Calmer is way, way, way soft. It feels like water running through your fingers as you knit it. I imagine that would be very soothing to wear against a bare scalp.

















This is how much yarn I had left over from the single skein of Calmer. I include the darning needle for scale. It's not a lot of yarn, and had I not eliminated several rows from the pattern, I probably would have run short. For the record, I eliminated two rounds of the initial ribbing, knitting 7 instead of the recommended 9. I also eliminated rounds 64, 68, 72, 75 and 78, all of which are resting rounds in the crown shaping. I wanted the crown to be more rounded and less conical, which was why I chose to skip basically every other resting round in the pattern. Lucky thing I did!

Overall, I'm happy with the way it turned out, and it was just as much fun the second time around for this pattern. But it doesn't persuade me to try more cotton yarns for textured knitting. For me, at least, the results are better with wool.

Now, I just have to find something vaguely head-shaped to help with the blocking.

And then, it's on to the socks! Woot! Look out DPNs, cuz I'm coming to getcha!

A Little Knit Magic

Look at that smile. That's the smile of a man who is happy to have a hand-knit vest.

I picked my parents up from the airport tonight and was finally able to give my Dad the Wall Street vest. It's about eleven thousand degrees in my house right now (on account of the concrete sanders in the basement -- don't ask, just trust me, construction sucks and it never never never ends) but he had to try it on. That's wool. Heavily cabled wool. He knew it would cook him like a lobster in a shell, but he had to try it on anyway.

Gotta love that reaction.

It was so hot that he wouldn't wear it long enough to settle the shoulders properly, and the vest looks like it's extremely wide, but that's just because of the way he pulled it on. It's actually a good fit, though a little loose around the bottom. But that's okay. The pattern is designed to be that way.

He's still smiling. The vest was removed, neatly folded, and left out on the table so he can show people as they come by the house.

I spent half the day fighting with Shedir, tinking round after round of the crown shaping, swearing up a storm at the pattern and the yarn and at my inability to put the two together and somehow get a hat. I made a map of the stitches on the needles, and then I made a map of the pattern itself to compare it to, and I still couldn't find the fix. I was within inches of sending Shedir to jail, but I kept thinking about the poor ill woman who needs a little comfort, and how what she's going through is far worse than a few miscrossed traveling stitches. Actually, that was my pep talk. To try to keep me knitting.

It wasn't working. I was that frustrated.

But then Dad opened his gift, and I saw him light up, and I remembered why I knit for other people. They don't always appreciate it, but when they do ... magic.

And just like that, I was able to see exactly where I got off track with Shedir. The fix is surprisingly easy, just a miscrossed cable right before a decrease, which was why I couldn't see it. The decrease masked it. It's too late now to finish it, but it will be finished tomorrow.

And here's hoping it brings a little knit magic to its recipient.

Floored!

The planets must have realigned themselves or something, because all of a sudden, life is beginning to normalize. Hooray for normal!

The swelling in my wrist abated overnight, and I was able to finish the mock ragg socks today. Though I did take the knitting slowly, with frequent breaks, because I don't want a relapse. But the wrist is much more stable today.

I can't quite decide what I think of the socks. On the one hand, they'll look great with my blue and cream ragg sweater, which is also a 2x2 rib. On the other, the yarn is coarser than what I usually wear next to my skin, and I'm afraid they might be too rough. They're not quite as coarse as, say, lopi (which I find unwearable), but they're certainly not merino. I'd rate them almost as coarse as a standard Peruvian wool. I'm hoping that washing them will soften them up some.

fwiw, this is a Regia superwash sock wool/nylon blend. Usually, the Regia is tolerable to me. Not what I would call soft, but certainly wearable. But this particular yarn was loftier and less tightly spun than their usual offerings, which makes me think they were trying to camouflage the coarseness of the wool. Also makes me wonder how these socks will wear, but I may not be able to wear them enough to walk through their loftiness.

By the way, in case you're wondering about my spelling, ragg, sometimes spelled ragge, is a term for a particular type of spun fiber. It usually looks sort of speckled or tufted and feels loose to the touch. My cotton ragg sweater sheds like a dog in August, but nothing else I own is half as cozy. I'm not an expert at telling ragg from non-ragg yarns, but usually, ragg feels sort of tufty or lofty. I used to think that all raggs were knitted, but have since heard that they can also be woven. I'm told that ragg used to be made from shredded and respun cloth, but I don't know if that's accurate. In fact, I'm not entirely sure of any of these facts. If you can set the record straight, please do so in the comments.

Anyway, I call them "mock ragg" because the speckly look here is achieved with dye rather than with spinning. So that's one lingering project down, one to go, and then I'll be ready for Summer of Socks.

















This also makes me very happy. My floor is done! Woot! I might even be able to move the furniture back in there tomorrow. And look how gorgeous it is next to the cabinets. The crew did a phenomenal job. Hooray, crew!

Notice all the filthy wash rags draped over my faucet to dry? You would not believe how much freaking sawdust I had to wash off of everything! I wiped stuff down for hours! Even inside the microwave, even inside the cabinets The Torso had sealed in plastic. It's everywhere. Absolute unrelenting filth.

But hey. At least it's filth I can get close to again. Kitchen, I missed you! Don't ever cut yourself off from me again!

Knit One, Pout Too

I've hardly knit a stitch in days. Shedir is gathering dust, and the mock ragg socks are still a toe and part of a foot away from completion. My plan was to finish both before the Summer of Socks kicks off, but my wrist had other plans for me.

Nothing like a slight attack of tendonitis to kill your knitting momentum. And I wasn't even overdoing it! I have no idea what triggered it this time.

Anyway, I'm giving it a rest for a few days, so there may not be much knitting news to report. I just want it to recover as much as possible before the solstice.

grumble...pout...grumble

Apparently, I Am A Grandmother

I don't have children. In fact, I can't have children. But according to a certain book, I am a grandmother.

The book is "Along For the Ride" by Michelle M Pillow. I was given an ARC (advance reading copy) at a recent conference. The book itself will not be released until this fall.

A day or two ago, I pulled it at random from my shamefully large TBR. TBR = To Be Read, and if you think I have a yarn stash, all I can say is, you should see my books. Periodically, I give away entire shopping bags full of paperpacks. And still I have more than I could ever reasonably hope to shelve despite a shocking amount of shelf footage.

In any event, I started reading the book, and I expected a good read because there's a strong buzz surrounding this author.

I got to page eighteen before ditching it.

I won't go into the problems in the text because I don't want to drag down this post, plus the book hasn't even come out yet and many of the errors may be corrected before release. But there are problems, and I was getting frustrated by about page 12, and then I hit this little gem on page 18:

"Her round, cotton-ball hairdo and fitted apron reminded him of the kind of grandmother who baked cookies and knitted socks...."

And then I stopped reading.

I'm so sick of that stereotype. We've got a whole clutch of knitters showing up to SnB every week, and yanno something? Not a grandmother among us, unless you count the one whose daughter will deliver her first child this winter. Technically, she's a grandmother-to-be. So that makes almost one grandmother out of the tableful of knitters.

Not that there's anything wrong with being a grandmother. There's not. What I object to is this notion that knitting belongs with cottonball hair, aprons, and old age. Knitting belongs to everyone who chooses to avail themselves of its many pleasures and benefits. The stereotype of "grandmotherly knitter" is about as factually accurate as a claim that all romance novels are bodice rippers. Talk about being behind the times!

Well, I'm not going to continue to rant about this. But I'm also not going to continue to read this book. Sorry, Michelle, but I just can't get past the cottonheaded knitter.

On Your Mark

Summer of Socks 2007 begins one week from today. Because I have no kitchen and am getting a tetch antsy, and because "a tetch antsy" = "swamped by an OCD-like urge to organize my crap," I pulled out all my sock yarn and laid it out on the table. That's enough to make 26 pairs of socks. I seriously doubt I can knit 26 pairs of socks in 3 months. Six pairs would be more like it. Eight, if I really knit hard.

Which means I am currently engaged in the very pleasant task of shopping my stash for the lucky eight skeins and in debating sock patterns for those eight. I know I want the Dale Baby Ull (upper left corner, turquoise) to be textured, maybe with some kind of cable pattern. I know I want the black and gold Lorna's Laces (top center) knit in plain stockinette, toe up, to make tall socks to wear to football games this fall. (Black and gold are my alma mater's colors.) And, of course, the grey frogged yarn between the Dale and the black and gold LL is intended for Jaywalkers.

Other than that ... ? I'm sort of in the anything goes stage, but I thought I might at least make a couple decisions in advance of next week's official kickoff. I am leaning toward starting with the Koigu (under the L of the Dale) because it's already wound into cakes. Seems like as good a rationale as any for picking the first pair.

My only other knitting goals between now and then are to finish the striped socks (which are behaving themselves now), and the Shedir (which is not).

I did something somewhere I wasn't supposed to do on that Shedir, and now the pattern is all out of whack. There are purls where there should be knits, and knits where there should be purls, and altogether more stitches than I'm supposed to have. I'm going to have to tink back the crown shaping until what's on my needles makes sense again.

In other words, Shedir is in jail. But it can't stay in jail too long, because the woman it's intended for may not have much time left to wear it. So sometime before next Thursday, I'll tink and reknit until it's off the needles and on her head.

In Book News...

I keep forgetting to report that I finished "Mr. Darcy Takes a Wife" by Jane Berdoll. I read this book for what might seem a silly reason: I met the editor, liked her, and wanted to see something she'd edited. This book met that criteria, plus I'm something of a Jane-ophile. (Austen, not Berdoll.)

The book was good. I was initially dazzled by the author's ability to remain true to Austen's style, which couldn't have been easy. As the book dragged on, though, I started to get offended by the liberties taken with Lizzy's character. Casual fans of Pride and Prejudice -- such as those of you who have only been exposed to the story through that thoroughly irritating Keira Knightley film adaptation -- will probably not feel anything near to my irritation over Berdoll's conversion of Lizzy into a foot-stomping, pants-wearing, fiesty romance heroine. But for those of us who know and love the book, the loss of Lizzy's dignity alters the character too far.

In the end, though, the spot-on rendering of Darcy's character and the brilliant echoing of Austen's voice allowed me to like the book. I give it a qualified recommendation for those of you looking for some intelligent but fun summer reading.

After finishing that book, I reached for "Memories of My Melancholy Whores" by Gabriel Garcia Marquez, a book which has been on my TBR list since before it was available in English. Well, technically, it's more a novella than a book, but it's diminished length didn't diminish my interest in reading it. As expected, it was a lyrical, beautifully written piece, light on plot and heavy on character. I enjoyed every word and feel enriched for having read it. What more could we ask from any story?

In the Land of PeeBeeJay

Once upon a Monday afternoon, in a house that was usually pretty normal and peaceful, a construction manager and manufacturer's rep rang the bell. Our intrepid knitter answered with a half-knit self-striping sock in 2x2 rib in her hands -- but unfortunately, the knitting isn't very relevant to this story.

Once she agreed to let the two men in, three others followed on their heels. Big, strong, young, handsome ones. Who moved furniture. Fast.

Our intrepid knitter's kitchen and family room were picked clean in record time. Bare walls, bare floors, bare counters.

One of the strapping young men, his bare chest glistening with dew, reached high above him to hang a sheet of plastic over the doorways. Contrary to rumor, knitters aren't dead from the waist down. In fact, so distracted was our knitter by the sight of all that muscular male flesh (swoon!), that she didn't quite realize he intended to seal off the kitchen. Completely.

"WAIT!" she cried. "I need my--"

My what? As The Torso posed with a twinkle in his eyes, a patient smile, and -- did I mention this? -- a bare chest, our knitter forgot the entire English language.

So she pointed. To that big box thing. What's it called? Funny name. Hungryender. Foodamajig. Six pack abs tight enough to fry eggs. And those biceps. Good God, did you see those biceps--?!

"I can bench 380," said The Torso.

"Umglibgerwhalla," said the knitter.

Would somebody please put a shirt on this man? On second thought, hold the shirt. And the pants, too, if we're lucky.

sigh...

















And now you all know how the knitter's refrigerator ended up in the hallway, half-blocking the front door. And now you also know how every other Item That Might Be Useful If Only I Could Have Thought Of It (toaster, coffeemaker, hot pot, knives, cutting board, drinking glasses) are sealed behind plastic.
















I slipped into the room to liberate some teabags, but they already had the pantry sealed, and then they caught me and chased me out. Would somebody please fix this mess so I can get back to my knitting? Or at least take off their clothes and distract me some more?

ps. The Torso really did tell me that he can bench 380.