Post-Stitches

Got home from Stitches mid-day Sunday. Within hours, my parents had arrived in town, my sister left her husband and moved in here with her child and dog, and my life
changed dramatically. I've had to empty closets for her, just at a time when I wanted to reorganize my stash and spread it around a bit so things might be easier to find. Oh, well. Family comes first, even ahead of stash (though it is a very, very, very close second, lol).

Abbreviated Stitches report:
I bought some yarn.
I took some classes.
I enjoyed the uninterrupted company of knitters.
I ate amazingly good Indian food. Twice.


The best part was the company of knitters. There hasn't been enough of that lately, and I cannot begin to express how lovely it was to get away from the stress and chaos and just be with friends in a fun and relaxing environment. Big hugs for all my friends. You guys are the best!

The second best part was the Advanced Finishing class with Margaret Fisher, who is my new idol. Everyone should take this class. She'll blow you away with how much she manages to jam into a three-hour class, and all of it is useful. Plus she's adorable and very nice. And she agreed with me that my kitchener is weird, and she might have even pinpointed the problem. We'll see. I've spent years unable to figure out why my kitchener grafts always look grotesque, so if nothing else, there's comfort in knowing an expert also sees the same problems I see. It's nice to know I'm not imagining things!

Yarn. Yeah, okay, I bought some. Not as much as I had budgeted for -- I came home with a couple hundred (and then some) left over in my annual Stitches set-aside. The market was underwhelming this year. Many of our regular fave vendors were not in attendance -- the rainbow button lady, the antique button lady, The Fold, Black Water Abbey, Shelridge Farms, Jojoland, Manos, and this is but a partial list of missing vendors. The market was easily 20% smaller than in past years.

So there were some disappointments, but honestly, I'm not disappointed overall. I was able to get some new indie yarns and a few things not available around here. A skein of Kauni for a shawl, some cones of laceweight that were a real bargain -- don't have a clue why the laceweights are calling to me lately. I'm not a lace girl. Or maybe I am but didn't know it before now.

What's that? You want to see? Oh, okay. I guess I can understand that. ;)

The pink is an alpaca laceweight, about 800 yards, from Webs. And the other is the Kauni. If you could see through the layers of the Kauni skein, you would see all the colors of a rainbow. It's very bright and colorful. I really can't wait to knit it, and am torn between two patterns.

End/Begin

I was profoundly moved on Wednesday to learn of the death of Ted Kennedy. My father's family is Irish Catholic, and though many of them scorned the idealism of the liberal left, they honored the Kennedy family for its great accomplishments in the face of religious and national-origin discrimination. For many of the old cranks in my family, the 1960 presidential race was the one and only time in their entire lives at which they voted for a Democrat. They were proud that "one of their own" was voted into the highest office, much the same as today's African-American population is proud of President Obama. It took an Irishman in the highest job in the land to erase the pain of "Irish Need Not Apply" signs in job placement offices.

Like many Irish Catholics, my grandmother hung a picture of JFK in her house right under that of the Pope. He was a martyr in her eyes. When Bobby was assassinated, many in my family were sickened with grief and dread. If "they" could do this to, not one, but two Kennedys, what hope remained for the rest of us? What would stop "them" from picking us off, too? Such were the fears engendered by the second Kennedy assassination.

But Teddy remained. His was a long life scarred by tragedy, and if there's one thing an Irishman loves, it's a good lament. Even though many of my family members abhorred his politics, he became almost emblematic of the best and worst of us, a symbol of all we had gained and lost. And through it all, he endured. He avoided the assassin's bullet. He retained his high status. He sang, he roared, and despite his many great accomplishments, he failed to achieve his highest goals. There's something both tragic and beautiful in his life.

I had few qualms about his politics and agreed with him on most matters of social justice. I respected all that he did for the arts -- my community lost one of our strongest champions on Wednesday. Now that he has fallen, who will catch the flag? There is no one left in politics who cares about arts the way the Kennedys did. Instead of appealing to our highest humanity, today's leaders settle for the basest greed. Money is all that matters now. Greed is good.

His death marks not just the end of a life, but the end of an era.

Throughout the course of the week, those of us who watch the news were reminded again and again of the great care Teddy took of the next generation of Kennedys. I've been thinking about this a lot lately, about how he made sure that Bobby and Jack's kids were always a strong part of his life.

This is why, during the funeral yesterday as I listened to the speeches and songs and even cried a little, I started the next afghan for my nephew Dylan.

Bless you, Ted Kennedy, and thank you for inspiring so many. Eternal rest grant unto you, and perpetual light shine upon you.

Yarn Crawling, DC Style

Those are some happy knitters. On the left, in the black and white dress, is Rachael, who blogs as Yarnagogo, and whose first knitting mystery romance will be released early next spring. Believe me, you will all hear from me when her book comes out. She's a terrific writer and I've done what I can to mentor her along the way. She repaid me last year in San Francisco by introducing me to Kyoto, a truly fantastic mohair and silk worsted yarn.

In the middle is the glowing-with-pregnancy ninja knitter, MB, who blogs as Merry Gentlemen. She is also the entrepreneur who has brought us Rock Creek Yarns. That's another brand of crack to add to your collections. Gorgeous stuff, and if you need proof, it's at the end of this post. MB was a Chicago knitter until she became a DC knitter, and she was kind enough to play hostess for our little band of writer-knitters during the DC conference. She did a marvelous job of enabling our addictions.

On the right, wearing the uber-cool shades, is Tara, who blogs as Random Ranter. She's a writer in the early stages of her career, and a knitter of many talents. I don't get her love of cotton, but hey, she can have my share of the cotton if I can have her share of the shetland wool. Check out her blog for a really interesting multicolored cotton scarf that's so cool it makes me want to give cotton another try. And that's saying something.

We spent a lovely day touring the Maryland side of DC. Our lunch was in a little French bistro with outstanding spinach and brie crepes, which adds another line item for my theory that it's impossible to get a bad meal in DC. (Have I already mentioned that my hotel was across the street from the Lebanese Taverna? This is the best middle eastern restaurant I've ever visited, in DC or in any other place.)

Enough about the food. Let's talk about the important stuff. The yarn.

At the first shop we visited, which I think might have been in Bethesda, I bought this gorgeous pink laceweight merino and some wonderful Jojoland sock yarn. I have no idea what I'll do with the laceweight. There are about 1400 yards on that skein, so options abound.




















And this is the rest of my haul. This is the indie-dyer portion of the adventure. Left and center are sock yarns from local DC dyers purchased at a shop in, if memory serves, Hyattsville. Charming shop on a charming street. I fell in love with that blue at first sight, but fate alone knows when I will ever be able to knit it.

On the right is a skein of MB's wonderful silk laceweight. I love her color sense. This one feels like the color scheme you would find in a wild, modernist or impressionist painting of irises. The color manages to be both saturated and pale by turns. Very appealing stuff.

Another One Gone

This is the cabled cardigan back piece. Or I should say, WAS the cabled cardigan back piece. I was, as the guys in the trades say, balls-on with my gauge. The finished piece was four inches narrower than the pattern specs called for, though, even after I tried to block it wider.

So I spent a pleasant half-hour last night trying to rework the pattern schematics to come up with a garment that would go all the way around me. But this is a very tailored, fitted piece, and I gave up without even fighting too hard.

Check out the kink in that frogged yarn. I wound it into loose round balls to let the yarn relax a bit, and then will wind it into cakes in a few days or so.

My list of KIPs is shrinking, and I must confess, it feels good to ditch things that aren't right. It's liberating. Not sad or depressing at all. This is my mindset when I stare down Catherine Parr, still laying on my kitchen table in all her botched glory. I still haven't decided what to do about this one. It's the toughest call on the list.

Goodbye, Times Three

Goodbye, fair isle bag. We like your colorwork, but the design (by me) needs a bit of refinement, and the needles were awful. You'll be knit again some day, but on different needles and with a better thought-out design.




















Goodby, Kyoto Banff. Nice pattern. Lovely yarn. But when you put them together, meh. The fabric just wasn't working for me. Kyoto, you'll be knit again someday. Banff? Maybe not.























Goodbye, Snicket socks. You drove me crazy almost from the second I cast you on. Yarn is lovely and will make a beautiful pair of socks, just as soon as I find a new pattern.

An Unholy Mess

This is my knitting. I have reached the turnaround point in my stress saturation level -- bottomed out, beginning to climb back up into the land of the normal -- and I know this is the case because I am suddenly possessed by the urge to clean out all my closets and drawers, empty all my bags, reorganize my filing cabinets... you get the idea. When I get busy like I've been since last winter, I can't stop to think about how my life is organized. I just shove things in drawers and cabinets and hope for the best. Then when things begin to calm down, I wake up and realize that my home and office aren't quite where I want them to be.

So today I started the Great Knit Reclamation Project, which begins with emptying out all my knitting bags to see what, exactly, might be hiding in them. Now it is all on my kitchen table. As you see.





















The pictures are dim because it is dark and rainy today -- really, the perfect day to start this sort of thing during the lunch hour. Starting with the dark green yarn in the lower left, and working clockwise, we have--
1 - St. Brigid in olive green, about a third done
1 - a cabled cardigan in marine blue, about a third done
3 - two cones of purple Kyoto, swatched but never started
4 - three balls of cream bamboo for a scarf
5 - purple crack in a bag for a lace tee
6 - a disgustingly huge pile of notions, notepads, and medications left over from pneumonia
7 and 8 - two socks in the middle, the green snickets and the plain Malabrigo socks






















Starting again with the green St. Brigid yarn, this time lower right and working clockwise, we add,

9 - the fair isle bag of my own design
10 - Catherine Parr, inches from completion
11 - Fulmar, about half done


I have to make some decisions this weekend, not the least of which will be what to do with that Catherine Parr. I hate the lower band on it to the point where I can't bring myself to complete the project. I need a solution that won't disappoint, and that might mean ripping and reknitting.

I think the Snicket socks are done for, too, because I'm just not digging the pattern. And the marine blue cardigan -- despite perfect gauge, the finished piece is several inches narrower than the pattern claimed it would be, and my attempt to block it wider has failed.

Somewhere in my closet is that purple Lady Eleanor. My radar is picking up its vibe now, too.

But these decisions will have to wait until tonight. I have quite a bit of editing yet to accomplish this afternoon, and once that's done, it will be time to figure out the knitting. I'm anticipating a fun Friday night. Just me and my yarn. I can't wait. After I sort through my works in progress, I'm going to pull the yarn from my closet and figure out what I've bought since the last time I logged onto Ravelry for more than five minutes. There isn't much new yarn, but there's enough to keep me busy for a bit. Busy in a happy way. The kind of busy we like.

The Saturday Curse

So, last Saturday was a big day. I spent a good part of the day in a tv studio out in the western suburbs, taping a talk show about writing and publishing. Cool stuff. When I got home from that, I thought I would have an hour or two to knit and unwind.

No such luck.

We have the worst golfers on our course. I swear, it's like they give a special rate to anyone who can't tell a nine iron from a tire iron. As I was changing out of my tv clothes and checking email and so on, I heard a crash. Thought a golfer had probably hit one of the contraband tomato pots on the patio and shattered the planter.

They hit something a little north of the planter.
























There went my knitting time. I had to go to the golf clubhouse to report it, where that nasty woman who works in the golf clubhouse amply demonstrated why all the residents refer to her as "that nasty woman who works in the golf clubhouse." It took forever, got me nowhere, and I'm still annoyed over how difficult she was.

But that was last week. This week, I thought I would get an hour or two of knitting time on Saturday after I finish up some line edits and a revision letter. But I woke to the sounds of an unexpected visitor who was imitating Santa Clause and coming down my chimney.





















This poor little morning dove has had quite a difficult day. It got its foot caught in the mesh that hangs over the glass windows, finally worked free, and took a rest on the kindling. Thanks to all the facebookers and twitterati who gave me tips on how to get it out of the fireplace. As you can see, opening the fireplace doors didn't persuade it to leave. It just sat there and watched me for a while. It seemed very dazed.

So I got an old towel and thought I would wrap the bird in the towel and carry it outside. Of course, it took one look at the towel and freaked. Me, it would tolerate. The towel? OMG, utter terror. It flew up the chimney, then somehow out the fireplace door, all over my house, into the ceiling a few times (ouch) and finally came to rest on an umbrella stand in the front hall. You would think with all it's blind, frantic flight, it might have accidentally managed to go through one of the doors I'd opened, but no such luck.

While it was on the umbrella stand, I was able to get the towel around it and carry it outside, where it sat on my railing for a good hour and a half. I was afraid it might be hurt, so I sat out there and talked to it and put out some bits of bread. Me, it tolerated. But as soon as it saw the bread, it flew to the roof. It's still on the roof, but I figure if it could fly up there, it should be okay. Just needs a bit of recovery time.

Anyway, that's two Saturdays in a row where my hope for knitting time was dashed by odd occurrences at the house. Wonder what next Saturday will hold.