I think all one of you should be a little grateful to me that I've spared you the couple of months of very occasional, distracted plain sock knitting that are behind me. You really, really didn't want to read about it, I promise. My in-laws visited during the first full week of October, and it was a gorgeous Indian Summer of a few precious seventy degree days. The day after they left, it started to rain and it has been rainy/overcast with forty-fifty degree highs quite literally ever since. Wisconsin decided that it was fall and would brook no argument about it. The fall colors had peaked around the time of my in-laws' visit and since then have been slowly fading. My knitting has only just now started to kick back into gear with the disappearance of summer, the return of my yarn budget, and the completion of USMLE Step 3, which was keeping me busy studying whenever I had a few extra moments. Now that the winter approaches, and All Saints/All Souls is here, knitting time has returned!
As you have read here before, any project slated for my husband seems to get relegated to the "bored with this" pile far before its time. There is no obvious reason for this...he isn't the type of man who demands only grey, brown, or black. He isn't the type who demands only plain items. There merely seems to be a notable pattern of boredom when I have an item to make for him. To force myself to get over this, and to improve the inequality of handknits we have in our home, I decided to whip up a quick pair of plain socks in a fairly manly burnt orange for him. Sock number one was a knitalong with my Knitting Gakusei (student :) ) Valerie, so I could show her the steps of the sock making process one by one, so it went more slowly than I'm used to. Sock number two, on my own time schedule, has been going even more slowly, and I'm getting so bored with the long slog of stockinette down the leg. Poor husband...it's taking far too long for him to have a single pair of handknit socks.
November first is a traditional time for knitters who craft for the holidays to begin work on the masterpieces they will bestow on loved ones. I'm not going to go into details, so that the recipients will be surprised, but there will be socks, hats, mittens, and scarves aplenty this year, if I can spare enough time to make them all. My Christmas knitting list is growing longer all the time, and I'm running into new questions, such as "What should one knit for one's boss?" I'm hoping to use some of the items I've knit and stowed away this year, but there is less in that pile than I'd really like.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
Baa!
This past weekend, your friendly Desultory Knitter went to the Wisconsin Sheep and Wool Festival in Jefferson, so I thought I would give you all a rundown. It's been a little while since I've posted, but my research project for work has kept me quite busy of late and after work there has been much to do that isn't knitting. Sheep and Wool, however, was awesome, and has restored my will to make beautiful items!
Upon arriving at the Jefferson County Fairgrounds early Saturday morning, I could tell I was in for some good ol' Wisconsin rural fun. We were greeted at the entrance by a tractor pulling a little trolley, a shuttle carrying visitors around the fairgrounds, giving a delightful hayride ambience. Since we arrived so early, the major activity taking place at the time was the sheepdog trials. This was fascinating, as my husband and I had never seen anything like it. The dogs are treated like elite athletes, and many are involved in multiple national competitions per year. There are few dogs in the competition who are not purebred Border collies, though the amount of running they do makes them almost as lean as a greyhound. Not like my pampered little spaniel! The dog trainers/handlers stand at a fixed point in the field and whistle, yell, and stomp out commands as the dog runs about after the sheep. The dogs who were not actively competing at the moment sat on the sidelines and a few perked up their ears and pulled on their leashes at the commands, wishing they were out there with the sheep. The portion of the competition we saw was mostly "nursery" dogs, pups who were still being trained, though several showed immense promise according to knowledgeable spectators I spoke with.
After watching the competition for some time, we explored the rest of the fairgrounds. There was a building with fleece auction, a quilt show and "Make It with Wool" competition, a silent auction of roving and handspun yarn. A separate building held the "Meet the Breeds" hall, full of examples of various sheep breeds, as well as the Blue Faced Leicester show. I've heard of dog shows and cat shows, but a sheep show? Ridiculously awesome. There was a lambing pen in which several newborn lambs lived with their mamas, and a few pregnant ewes lived alongside them. Two adorable Wisconsin farm kids in classic overalls offered to "catch" a lamb for us to pet, eagerly introduced us to the lambs and explained which one was the oldest in the pen. They adored farm life and were obviously enamored of the sheep on their family farms.
The two "Country Store" barns were jam-packed with knitterly goodness, so I had to go through them very very carefully. In my haul, I have two skeins of beautiful handspun Romney, some lovely roving for spinning practice, some luxurious cash-merino sock yarn (yes, I splurged a bit, but it was within my budget for the event!) and a copy of Folk Socks and Respect the Spindle, two classic, classic tomes. There were spinning wheels, tons of handspun, roving, fleeces, and spindles from family farms and more commercial spinneries. A few booths even sold sheep related farming implements and sheepdog toys/leashes. The crowd was full of friendly knitters and spinners.
What did I miss out on? The classes. Next year, I'd love to take a class, possibly even an introductory wheel-spinning class, but I just couldn't this year. It is too bad, because they had a few truly world-class teachers there this year, but oh well. All this fun was mine to be had for a five dollar admission fee. Craziness, craziness I say. Who's with me next year?
Upon arriving at the Jefferson County Fairgrounds early Saturday morning, I could tell I was in for some good ol' Wisconsin rural fun. We were greeted at the entrance by a tractor pulling a little trolley, a shuttle carrying visitors around the fairgrounds, giving a delightful hayride ambience. Since we arrived so early, the major activity taking place at the time was the sheepdog trials. This was fascinating, as my husband and I had never seen anything like it. The dogs are treated like elite athletes, and many are involved in multiple national competitions per year. There are few dogs in the competition who are not purebred Border collies, though the amount of running they do makes them almost as lean as a greyhound. Not like my pampered little spaniel! The dog trainers/handlers stand at a fixed point in the field and whistle, yell, and stomp out commands as the dog runs about after the sheep. The dogs who were not actively competing at the moment sat on the sidelines and a few perked up their ears and pulled on their leashes at the commands, wishing they were out there with the sheep. The portion of the competition we saw was mostly "nursery" dogs, pups who were still being trained, though several showed immense promise according to knowledgeable spectators I spoke with.
After watching the competition for some time, we explored the rest of the fairgrounds. There was a building with fleece auction, a quilt show and "Make It with Wool" competition, a silent auction of roving and handspun yarn. A separate building held the "Meet the Breeds" hall, full of examples of various sheep breeds, as well as the Blue Faced Leicester show. I've heard of dog shows and cat shows, but a sheep show? Ridiculously awesome. There was a lambing pen in which several newborn lambs lived with their mamas, and a few pregnant ewes lived alongside them. Two adorable Wisconsin farm kids in classic overalls offered to "catch" a lamb for us to pet, eagerly introduced us to the lambs and explained which one was the oldest in the pen. They adored farm life and were obviously enamored of the sheep on their family farms.
The two "Country Store" barns were jam-packed with knitterly goodness, so I had to go through them very very carefully. In my haul, I have two skeins of beautiful handspun Romney, some lovely roving for spinning practice, some luxurious cash-merino sock yarn (yes, I splurged a bit, but it was within my budget for the event!) and a copy of Folk Socks and Respect the Spindle, two classic, classic tomes. There were spinning wheels, tons of handspun, roving, fleeces, and spindles from family farms and more commercial spinneries. A few booths even sold sheep related farming implements and sheepdog toys/leashes. The crowd was full of friendly knitters and spinners.
What did I miss out on? The classes. Next year, I'd love to take a class, possibly even an introductory wheel-spinning class, but I just couldn't this year. It is too bad, because they had a few truly world-class teachers there this year, but oh well. All this fun was mine to be had for a five dollar admission fee. Craziness, craziness I say. Who's with me next year?
Friday, September 2, 2011
Ask the Knitting Gamer Doctor 1: How to Knit Body Parts
In an effort to further explore the nearly-unique awesomeness that is me, I thought I would introduce yet another Q&A segment. I say "nearly unique", because as my friend over at The Crafty Doctor (thecraftydoctor.blogspot.com) could attest, I have a "twin from another mother." We both fall in the overlapping part of the Venn diagram of doctor, knitter, singer, gamer, geek, and now blogger apparently. We used to share the category of "future pediatrician" but we all know just how well that went. Read her blog for another perspective on this, but for the moment, here's mine. Once again, step with me onto my talk show stage...
Hello again, and welcome to Ask the Knitter Gamer Doctor, a show where we ask pointless questions to try to figure out how it is possible to function as all of those things at once!
Hi. Do we have to do this again?
Yes we do!
Fine
So, tell me...what's it like to be a knitter doctor? What could it possibly do for you?
It takes a lot of doing. Most of us went to medical school, frankly, because we actually want to learn things. Not a day went by in my resident career, or in my life since, that I didn't learn something, and that's how I like it. Knitting and medicine both offer so much to learn and so many niches for specialized expertise. The problem with being both, of course, is that learning requires time, the most precious commodity to us, and in training that learning time must be spent on medicine. My friend talks about wanting to use her on call time for knitting, which is pretty much exactly how I felt all the time, but neither of us is able to totally justify it.
Medical school, particularly the pre-clinical years, is different. While I hadn't yet become the crazy, obsessive knitter I am today, there were a few girls in our class known for sitting in lecture with knitting in progress. My inadvertent choice to nap during lectures seems a lot less productive, and now that I knit a lot more, I'm aware of just how much it can help focus and improve learning in lectures. This is one of those many situations in which I would love to call for a do-over.
The great goddess Knitting bestows lots of gifts on us, most of which would have saved my ass if I had developed them before medical school and residency. Focused attention, a sense of minor accomplishments adding up into a big one, patience, hope, planning and foresight all come from knitting, and it has helped me mature in a lot of ways. Residency, ironically, requires more of these and bestows more cash for raw materials, but sweeps away the time to knit.
That makes sense for your career path before, but what about your new one?
Pathology has the added benefit for the knitter of requiring color sense. I was drawn to cross stitch much earlier in my life because I adored the color, and then found out how much a part of knitting it is when I made the switch. Pathologists and histotechnologists work with color every day, and the similarities between staining a slide and dying a batch of yarn are vast. Pathology also requires attention to detail and the ability to see "the forest and the trees" at the same time, both of which are key to proper garment manufacture. Gross examination and sectioning a specimen require almost the same amount of hand control as the surgical procedure that removed it.
Have you knit any projects for work use or for your coworkers? What should I knit for the doctor in my life?
Stethoscope cozies. No question. After being introduced to them by a knitter friend, I learned to use DPN's in order to make one for myself. There has been little stopping since. Almost everyone who sees it asks about it, and it's a really simple knit. Next year, I may begin work on a microscope cozy. I think that might qualify me for admission by my psychiatry resident buddy, with a diagnosis of Obsessive-Delusional Knitter syndrome. Seriously, look for ODKS in the DSM-V whenever it finally appears, and you'll find my case history in some psychiatry journal.
My friend who introduced me to stethoscope cozies also introduced me to the knitting of stuffed body parts. Despite not actually being a doctor, she became fascinated with the idea of knitting body parts for people who don't have them. She knitted a pancreas for herself, since she has Type I diabetes, a gall bladder for a person who had recently undergone removal, and ovaries for me (long story). The best one, however, was for my friend James. She knitted him a heart. He's not a heart transplant patient or anything like that, but merely a cynical, sarcastic, heartless bastard in the best possible sense. Perhaps someday I will knit stuffed amigurumi microbes to rival those commercially made plushie ones.
Hello again, and welcome to Ask the Knitter Gamer Doctor, a show where we ask pointless questions to try to figure out how it is possible to function as all of those things at once!
Hi. Do we have to do this again?
Yes we do!
Fine
So, tell me...what's it like to be a knitter doctor? What could it possibly do for you?
It takes a lot of doing. Most of us went to medical school, frankly, because we actually want to learn things. Not a day went by in my resident career, or in my life since, that I didn't learn something, and that's how I like it. Knitting and medicine both offer so much to learn and so many niches for specialized expertise. The problem with being both, of course, is that learning requires time, the most precious commodity to us, and in training that learning time must be spent on medicine. My friend talks about wanting to use her on call time for knitting, which is pretty much exactly how I felt all the time, but neither of us is able to totally justify it.
Medical school, particularly the pre-clinical years, is different. While I hadn't yet become the crazy, obsessive knitter I am today, there were a few girls in our class known for sitting in lecture with knitting in progress. My inadvertent choice to nap during lectures seems a lot less productive, and now that I knit a lot more, I'm aware of just how much it can help focus and improve learning in lectures. This is one of those many situations in which I would love to call for a do-over.
The great goddess Knitting bestows lots of gifts on us, most of which would have saved my ass if I had developed them before medical school and residency. Focused attention, a sense of minor accomplishments adding up into a big one, patience, hope, planning and foresight all come from knitting, and it has helped me mature in a lot of ways. Residency, ironically, requires more of these and bestows more cash for raw materials, but sweeps away the time to knit.
That makes sense for your career path before, but what about your new one?
Pathology has the added benefit for the knitter of requiring color sense. I was drawn to cross stitch much earlier in my life because I adored the color, and then found out how much a part of knitting it is when I made the switch. Pathologists and histotechnologists work with color every day, and the similarities between staining a slide and dying a batch of yarn are vast. Pathology also requires attention to detail and the ability to see "the forest and the trees" at the same time, both of which are key to proper garment manufacture. Gross examination and sectioning a specimen require almost the same amount of hand control as the surgical procedure that removed it.
Have you knit any projects for work use or for your coworkers? What should I knit for the doctor in my life?
Stethoscope cozies. No question. After being introduced to them by a knitter friend, I learned to use DPN's in order to make one for myself. There has been little stopping since. Almost everyone who sees it asks about it, and it's a really simple knit. Next year, I may begin work on a microscope cozy. I think that might qualify me for admission by my psychiatry resident buddy, with a diagnosis of Obsessive-Delusional Knitter syndrome. Seriously, look for ODKS in the DSM-V whenever it finally appears, and you'll find my case history in some psychiatry journal.
My friend who introduced me to stethoscope cozies also introduced me to the knitting of stuffed body parts. Despite not actually being a doctor, she became fascinated with the idea of knitting body parts for people who don't have them. She knitted a pancreas for herself, since she has Type I diabetes, a gall bladder for a person who had recently undergone removal, and ovaries for me (long story). The best one, however, was for my friend James. She knitted him a heart. He's not a heart transplant patient or anything like that, but merely a cynical, sarcastic, heartless bastard in the best possible sense. Perhaps someday I will knit stuffed amigurumi microbes to rival those commercially made plushie ones.
Thursday, August 25, 2011
The Birth of a Knitting Gamer
I'm so very proud of my friend Valerie for being a determined, surprisingly skilled brand-new knitting gamer. She asked me to teach her last week, and I was won over by flattery (N.B. - Flattery works wonders, all of you who want someone to teach you to knit! And cookies. Lots of cookies.). I could tell she was going to be bitten by the bug pretty hard, and that she's going to turn into a knitter of formidable talent. We've talked about my knitting before, and it was fairly clear that she's a crafty girl at heart, and furthermore, previous attempts at crochet had been met with confusion. Normally, bi-craftitude is fine with me, but this crochet confusion reminded me of others I've known who instinctively find one of the two really easy and the other more difficult. Unlike other times I've taught someone, this time I'm really going to start a fire.
Lesson one last week had both of us blinking up at the clock on my wall, struggling to understand where the last two hours went. Yes, my friends, it was that good. We went to one of my favorite local yarn stores and petted skeins while I gave her a quick overview of fibers, their uses, and how knitters tend to feel about them. Then we tore ourselves away from the yarn because we had caught the store briefly closed before an evening class...so sad it was! Michael's was at least able to provide acceptable beginner gear, so we purchased some (totally underrated) Paton's Classic Wool and a pair of US7 straights. I discovered that a dice bag...a simple rectangle of stockinette with garter ends, seamed up the sides...makes an excellent first project for the noob knitting gamer. Longtail cast on and the knit stitch were promptly taught, and our subject assimilated the skill like a born knitter. Purl required a little thought at first, but within a row or two she was turning out stunningly even stockinette. Mama was so proud!
Lesson two involved Baby's First Knitting in Public when she joined me for my knitting group this week. She made only minimal errors in a commendable six inches of stockinette without me, so we covered how to tink and, eventually, to great triumph, how to bind off and do a mattress stitch seam. There is no greater "high" for a baby knitter than to (1) finish a project and (2) be able to flash your very first FO around in front of a group of six knitters who all understand just how amazing that is. Further reinforcement came from her SO, who has already requested a dice bag of his own. When she confessed to me that, upon entering Michaels for a different purpose, she found herself with yarn in hand, it was a good feeling. When she went on to say that the only reason she didn't buy the yarn was that she couldn't find the knitting needle aisle, it was music to my ears. Baby's first brush with the urge to stash AND her first bout of startitis at the same time...in the first week? The force is strong with this one :).
Lesson one last week had both of us blinking up at the clock on my wall, struggling to understand where the last two hours went. Yes, my friends, it was that good. We went to one of my favorite local yarn stores and petted skeins while I gave her a quick overview of fibers, their uses, and how knitters tend to feel about them. Then we tore ourselves away from the yarn because we had caught the store briefly closed before an evening class...so sad it was! Michael's was at least able to provide acceptable beginner gear, so we purchased some (totally underrated) Paton's Classic Wool and a pair of US7 straights. I discovered that a dice bag...a simple rectangle of stockinette with garter ends, seamed up the sides...makes an excellent first project for the noob knitting gamer. Longtail cast on and the knit stitch were promptly taught, and our subject assimilated the skill like a born knitter. Purl required a little thought at first, but within a row or two she was turning out stunningly even stockinette. Mama was so proud!
Lesson two involved Baby's First Knitting in Public when she joined me for my knitting group this week. She made only minimal errors in a commendable six inches of stockinette without me, so we covered how to tink and, eventually, to great triumph, how to bind off and do a mattress stitch seam. There is no greater "high" for a baby knitter than to (1) finish a project and (2) be able to flash your very first FO around in front of a group of six knitters who all understand just how amazing that is. Further reinforcement came from her SO, who has already requested a dice bag of his own. When she confessed to me that, upon entering Michaels for a different purpose, she found herself with yarn in hand, it was a good feeling. When she went on to say that the only reason she didn't buy the yarn was that she couldn't find the knitting needle aisle, it was music to my ears. Baby's first brush with the urge to stash AND her first bout of startitis at the same time...in the first week? The force is strong with this one :).
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
The Valley of the Shadow of No Wool
I've been in a little bit of a slump lately with my knitting, so I'm not churning out the goods with the enthusiasm of previous months. I know this happens, and I know it never lasts, but there are just too many other things that need to be accomplished and knitting just isn't quite soothing my ills the way it so often does. Patience is a virtue and one that Knitting herself is most generous in bestowing on us, but the patience I need to wait this one out is just not appearing.
My knitting's suffering is primarily due to the fact that I have a new research project I'm carrying at work. Between learning how to use the automated slide stainer, performing literature searches for background information, and moving forward my previous project, my time at work is at something of a premium. The in-between times while waiting for something at work used to be prime knitting time, but now it's just not there. What time I do have is being hijacked by the need to study for Step 3, to be taken in October, and continue work on my Match application. It's no fun when things suddenly heat up like this, but it happens.
Another issue that is just killing my drive to knit is the fact that I made an agreement with my husband not to buy any more yarn until Wisconsin Sheep and Wool in four weeks. My stash is big enough to last, but I'm just not inspired. The large percentage of cheapass acrylic doesn't help, of course. I have projects in mind that simply cannot be done from stash and the projects that can be all strike me as blah. The pair of ribbed socks I have on the needles right now and the fancier socks for my husband are just not doing it for me. Poor guy...everything I have planned to knit for him ends up in the "I'm bored with this" pile. The most exciting, inspiring thing I've done with fiber lately is learning to spin, but I have not a single scrap of roving on which to practice and I'm not allowed to buy any yet! Aaaaaagh! Why, why did I do this?
Oh yes, and did I mention that it's summer, for heaven's sake? Even handknit socks are too warm to wear, and early Christmas gift planning rings just a little hollow.
Runners, I'm told, keep themselves going by fixing their vision on a point far down the track. They keep their eyes on the next goal and the next until the finish line is crossed. To what shall I fix my eyes? Wisconsin Sheep and Wool, of course, for one thing. I'm so excited about meeting the sheeps and the sheepiedogs, finding nice roving and handspun, and just having a grand time. But that is not going to be happening for a while. Instead, I'm looking forward to helping bring a brand new knitting gamer into the world...my friend Valerie. She too is a gamer and has asked to join our cul...er, I mean, hobby...after hearing my enthusiastic testimonials. We are going to go to a fabulous local yarn store and pick her out something nice, after which I will teach her to knit. Her first project: a dice bag...only fitting for a knitting gamer, no?
My knitting's suffering is primarily due to the fact that I have a new research project I'm carrying at work. Between learning how to use the automated slide stainer, performing literature searches for background information, and moving forward my previous project, my time at work is at something of a premium. The in-between times while waiting for something at work used to be prime knitting time, but now it's just not there. What time I do have is being hijacked by the need to study for Step 3, to be taken in October, and continue work on my Match application. It's no fun when things suddenly heat up like this, but it happens.
Another issue that is just killing my drive to knit is the fact that I made an agreement with my husband not to buy any more yarn until Wisconsin Sheep and Wool in four weeks. My stash is big enough to last, but I'm just not inspired. The large percentage of cheapass acrylic doesn't help, of course. I have projects in mind that simply cannot be done from stash and the projects that can be all strike me as blah. The pair of ribbed socks I have on the needles right now and the fancier socks for my husband are just not doing it for me. Poor guy...everything I have planned to knit for him ends up in the "I'm bored with this" pile. The most exciting, inspiring thing I've done with fiber lately is learning to spin, but I have not a single scrap of roving on which to practice and I'm not allowed to buy any yet! Aaaaaagh! Why, why did I do this?
Oh yes, and did I mention that it's summer, for heaven's sake? Even handknit socks are too warm to wear, and early Christmas gift planning rings just a little hollow.
Runners, I'm told, keep themselves going by fixing their vision on a point far down the track. They keep their eyes on the next goal and the next until the finish line is crossed. To what shall I fix my eyes? Wisconsin Sheep and Wool, of course, for one thing. I'm so excited about meeting the sheeps and the sheepiedogs, finding nice roving and handspun, and just having a grand time. But that is not going to be happening for a while. Instead, I'm looking forward to helping bring a brand new knitting gamer into the world...my friend Valerie. She too is a gamer and has asked to join our cul...er, I mean, hobby...after hearing my enthusiastic testimonials. We are going to go to a fabulous local yarn store and pick her out something nice, after which I will teach her to knit. Her first project: a dice bag...only fitting for a knitting gamer, no?
Monday, August 8, 2011
Ask the Knitting Gamer 2: Learning to Spin at a Gaming Convention
Hi all zero of you! Many apologies for the unexpectedly long hiatus, and the exact reasons for it are still a little unclear, so I won't explain. My husband and I have returned from Gen Con with a few new stories to tell, a few new games, a few new friends, and a few new skills. In order to avoid a super-long post with all the details, which are going to come out over time anyway, I thought this might be an opportunity to do another round of Ask the Knitting Gamer!
Gooooood morning, and welcome to round two of Ask the Knitting Gamer - the Con Edition. Shall we get started?
Let's.
(1) As a knitter, why would you want to accompany your gamer to a huge national convention like Gen Con? What bribes were necessary?
Conventions like Gen Con can be incredibly fun for a knitter, so there was little need for bribes. Although a little handpainted sock yarn couldn't hurt.
Aside from the charms of the con itself, with the wide variety of costumed persons, wandering minstrels, games to demo, and the like, there are non-game events sponsored by the Spouses Association. And many of these...are fiber arts classes! Yay!!! As noted in the title, I learned at this year's convention, in an introductory-type manner, the fine art of drop spindle spinning from one of these. There is, of course, a "knitting 101" and "crochet 101", but there are so many more, and there are more every year.
(1) Give us the straight dope then...Are the classes really any good? Would a person who already possesses some skillz in knitting and/or crochet actually want to attend, or are we the ones who teach this stuff?
They are surprisingly fantastic, and there are more than purely introductory classes. My spinning class was taught by a totally gifted teacher who happens to live about 45 minutes south of me, so I'll be seeing her at the state Sheep and Wool Festival next month, no doubt. Her teaching skill led me to crave my next hit of cra...I mean, roving. Despite the pure suckitude of my attempts at learning, she eventually got me to loosen my sweaty death grip and figure out what drafting really means. In sheer gratitude, I may end up feeling good enough about my spinning to send her some handspun someday. The best part of learning this at Gen Con was that I then got to sit down at the table where my husband was playing a game and watch all the other players stare at me like I'm the Second Coming as I practiced spinning.
(3) So, what else can the gamer-loving knitter do at Gen Con?
Live in the open crafting room!
No, I kid. There is far too much else to do to live with donated Red Heart. One can go on a haunted walking tour of the downtown Indianapolis area with a representative of the local Paranormal Society...if one was insufficiently surrounded by weird already. The vendor hall is full of a wide range of items, including a jeweler booth where I purchased a set of bronze DPN's, replicas of a set found in a 13th century grave in Estonia. One can sit down to dinner with a couple of gamers and find out that one of them has a knitter wife, and that the other is a gamer lawyer who enjoys discussing exactly what you can or cannot do with a purchased pattern. Last but not least, you could actually play a game. DM's are often amused by a player who knits during a Dungeons and Dragons run and may incorporate this into the character.
(4) What did you knit during Gen Con?
I finished a pair of plain socks and most of a plain, soft hat. Oh yeah, and I knit a little swatch of my very first handspun. I'm proudest of that.
Gooooood morning, and welcome to round two of Ask the Knitting Gamer - the Con Edition. Shall we get started?
Let's.
(1) As a knitter, why would you want to accompany your gamer to a huge national convention like Gen Con? What bribes were necessary?
Conventions like Gen Con can be incredibly fun for a knitter, so there was little need for bribes. Although a little handpainted sock yarn couldn't hurt.
Aside from the charms of the con itself, with the wide variety of costumed persons, wandering minstrels, games to demo, and the like, there are non-game events sponsored by the Spouses Association. And many of these...are fiber arts classes! Yay!!! As noted in the title, I learned at this year's convention, in an introductory-type manner, the fine art of drop spindle spinning from one of these. There is, of course, a "knitting 101" and "crochet 101", but there are so many more, and there are more every year.
(1) Give us the straight dope then...Are the classes really any good? Would a person who already possesses some skillz in knitting and/or crochet actually want to attend, or are we the ones who teach this stuff?
They are surprisingly fantastic, and there are more than purely introductory classes. My spinning class was taught by a totally gifted teacher who happens to live about 45 minutes south of me, so I'll be seeing her at the state Sheep and Wool Festival next month, no doubt. Her teaching skill led me to crave my next hit of cra...I mean, roving. Despite the pure suckitude of my attempts at learning, she eventually got me to loosen my sweaty death grip and figure out what drafting really means. In sheer gratitude, I may end up feeling good enough about my spinning to send her some handspun someday. The best part of learning this at Gen Con was that I then got to sit down at the table where my husband was playing a game and watch all the other players stare at me like I'm the Second Coming as I practiced spinning.
(3) So, what else can the gamer-loving knitter do at Gen Con?
Live in the open crafting room!
No, I kid. There is far too much else to do to live with donated Red Heart. One can go on a haunted walking tour of the downtown Indianapolis area with a representative of the local Paranormal Society...if one was insufficiently surrounded by weird already. The vendor hall is full of a wide range of items, including a jeweler booth where I purchased a set of bronze DPN's, replicas of a set found in a 13th century grave in Estonia. One can sit down to dinner with a couple of gamers and find out that one of them has a knitter wife, and that the other is a gamer lawyer who enjoys discussing exactly what you can or cannot do with a purchased pattern. Last but not least, you could actually play a game. DM's are often amused by a player who knits during a Dungeons and Dragons run and may incorporate this into the character.
(4) What did you knit during Gen Con?
I finished a pair of plain socks and most of a plain, soft hat. Oh yeah, and I knit a little swatch of my very first handspun. I'm proudest of that.
Monday, July 25, 2011
My Knitting Heresies
Knitter's Review has a lovely forum, and there are some really interesting threads that get going on there from time to time. I'm in the middle of reading a thread entitled "Knitting heretics", in which people confess their real, less-than-politically-knitting-correct, opinions about what is supposedly knitting gospel. The Yarn Harlot, in her blog and in her published work, often likes to comment on what an amazing thing knitting is to bring together such widely varied people. There is no one thing that can be said about all knitters, who they are, what they like, and the fiber industry has a really hard time keeping up with us. Things everyone knows are popular are always going to draw detractors who think that holding a "nonconformist" opinion somehow improves their status or their life, but admittedly some things do not deserve to be popular sometimes.
In that spirit, I'd like to offer a list of my own "knitting heresies", which are of course only my own opinion. After weeding out "heresies" which are so common as to actually verge on orthodoxy (I hate novelty yarn, I actually like cuff-down socks with heel flaps on DPN's, I never swatch, etc.)
(1) I felt like the show Knitty Gritty talked down to me, and frankly to all knitters of some experience. Except for knowing how to physically make the knit stitch and perhaps the purl, there seemed to be absolutely no brain cells required of the viewer. Vicky Howell seemed very nice, but the kind of knitting celeb who would only be appreciated by those not too far on their journey into our craft.
(2) I absolutely hated every single project in the original Stitch and Bitch book and I'm not quite sure I'd recommend it as a beginner book even for the learning section. The recent "Superstar Knitting" followup, however has redeemed Debbie Stoller in my eyes, if only for the descriptions of some more advanced-ish techniques.
(3) I cannot stand garter stitch. Think it's ugly as sin and frankly looks cheap. Must have been the garter stitch Red Heart rectangles I was forced into as "beginner projects." Thank gawd I love my grandparents-in-law enough to make a giant garter-stitch log cabin acrylic-in-massive-numbers-of-colors afghan. It would not exist if I wasn't using my great-grandmother-in-law's 1970's dime store acrylic stash, in memoriam.
(4) I love the members of my knitting group and adore talking to them, but I'm often ambivalent about the act of getting in my car for twenty minutes to do what I was about to do on my couch.
(5) I'm currently making my first sweater in pieces. Don't think the top-down-raglan crowd is going to make any headway with me.
(6) I'm generally unaware of what "everyone" is knitting. It's not that I actively avoid things like Clapotis, I am purely clueless.
(7) I sometimes intentionally choose projects to bring to my knitting group purely for show. I hate this about myself, but I just soak up comments like "I'd never have the patience for that".
(8) Crocheted fabric strikes me as weird looking and one-note.
(9) I would love to knit in church if I could - I swear I'd actually pay more attention - but there's always my mother's voice in the back of my head saying "Are you crazy?"
(10) I love pooling and flashing in my sock yarns. Think it looks awesome.
Aaaand...there you go.
In that spirit, I'd like to offer a list of my own "knitting heresies", which are of course only my own opinion. After weeding out "heresies" which are so common as to actually verge on orthodoxy (I hate novelty yarn, I actually like cuff-down socks with heel flaps on DPN's, I never swatch, etc.)
(1) I felt like the show Knitty Gritty talked down to me, and frankly to all knitters of some experience. Except for knowing how to physically make the knit stitch and perhaps the purl, there seemed to be absolutely no brain cells required of the viewer. Vicky Howell seemed very nice, but the kind of knitting celeb who would only be appreciated by those not too far on their journey into our craft.
(2) I absolutely hated every single project in the original Stitch and Bitch book and I'm not quite sure I'd recommend it as a beginner book even for the learning section. The recent "Superstar Knitting" followup, however has redeemed Debbie Stoller in my eyes, if only for the descriptions of some more advanced-ish techniques.
(3) I cannot stand garter stitch. Think it's ugly as sin and frankly looks cheap. Must have been the garter stitch Red Heart rectangles I was forced into as "beginner projects." Thank gawd I love my grandparents-in-law enough to make a giant garter-stitch log cabin acrylic-in-massive-numbers-of-colors afghan. It would not exist if I wasn't using my great-grandmother-in-law's 1970's dime store acrylic stash, in memoriam.
(4) I love the members of my knitting group and adore talking to them, but I'm often ambivalent about the act of getting in my car for twenty minutes to do what I was about to do on my couch.
(5) I'm currently making my first sweater in pieces. Don't think the top-down-raglan crowd is going to make any headway with me.
(6) I'm generally unaware of what "everyone" is knitting. It's not that I actively avoid things like Clapotis, I am purely clueless.
(7) I sometimes intentionally choose projects to bring to my knitting group purely for show. I hate this about myself, but I just soak up comments like "I'd never have the patience for that".
(8) Crocheted fabric strikes me as weird looking and one-note.
(9) I would love to knit in church if I could - I swear I'd actually pay more attention - but there's always my mother's voice in the back of my head saying "Are you crazy?"
(10) I love pooling and flashing in my sock yarns. Think it looks awesome.
Aaaand...there you go.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
Victory For Birch, the Miraculous Shawl.
This is what Birch looked like when she was brand new. That was the first ball of Kid Silk Haze, after an unfortunate run-in with a certain spaniel whose name rhymes with Shady. Fairly early in the process, I left our house with my husband to have dinner on our Friday Date Night, as usual. No big deal. As we were walking away, he reminded me that Birch had been left on the couch, rather than deliberately out of Lady's reach. I, being an idjit, insisted to him that this would be fine and that Lady was not in the habit of destroying things. We went on our merry way, enjoying dinner without a thought.
Upon returning, I saw it. Birch was on the floor, miraculously not off the needles. Not a stitch dropped, thanks be to wool. The formerly neat ball of Kid Silk Haze was spread out and undone, but again miraculously, not tangled. It took me many hours, but I was able to repair the damage.
Since Birch was cast on, I have completed one pair of mittens, one pair of socks, and a first sock of a second pair. One of said socks was the fastest sock I've ever done, at a solid two days. This shawl, during her production, has overseen my most prolific knitting month yet, and that includes last December, my first real Knitter's Christmas.
This is what Birch looked like on her way to glory. Yes, that's my desk at work. It's lunch, I swear it is.
I kept Birch going for longer and longer, building on the victorious energy with which I started her.And here she is now, an incredibly incredibly miraculous, victorious shawl.
Welcome to the world, Birch.
Monday, July 18, 2011
The Most Boring Post Ever - I Dare You to Read It
With a fairly quick push, the Rockin' Socks for July are done...beautiful, beautiful colorway from Blue Moon Fiber Arts Socks that Rock, and a very useful pattern from a fantastic designer. These are on my feet twelve days early, meaning I'm ready to cast on for the next Sock Club pair as soon as the package arrives next week. Score one more for the Victory of Birch...which appears to be the Neverending Shawl. Maybe it's sticking around to absorb as many other FO's in its web of victory as possible.
It's clear just how many of all zero of you care deeply about my weekend, so here it is. Saturday was my first day in so long that I just got to spend at home with my husband and my dog. No plans, no requirements, no nothing. It was delicious. Lady, the pooch, got a bath and now smells more like vanilla than dog, which is an improvement.
Sunday, I had to do my first reading at Mass, which turned into a really nervewracking situation for me because I ended up having to do my first two readings. And the prayers of the people and the announcements. With a priest who has never said Mass at our parish before. I was counting on having someone else to keep a little eye on to ensure that I'm doing things right, and ended up screwing up a time or two because I had NO safety net. Joy. Serving the Lord, crazy initiation challenge style.
In order to unwind, my husband and I ended up deciding to go to the Renaissance Faire, which was a lot of fun, but I had conveniently not been paying much attention to the extreme heat advisories. Baking heat, massive humidity did not make four hours walking around outside the most optimal of ideas, but luckily my husband and I enjoy the Faire so much that it was worth it. We saw a couple comedic shows, which were delightful, and enjoyed the food, drink, shopping, and funne at ye faire. In addition to last year's corset acquisition, I now have a lovely underdress for which Birch will make a lovely overskirt. Tada, boring description of weekend accomplished! Still no knitting pictures! However will I maintain my extensive readership? Who knows.
It's clear just how many of all zero of you care deeply about my weekend, so here it is. Saturday was my first day in so long that I just got to spend at home with my husband and my dog. No plans, no requirements, no nothing. It was delicious. Lady, the pooch, got a bath and now smells more like vanilla than dog, which is an improvement.
Sunday, I had to do my first reading at Mass, which turned into a really nervewracking situation for me because I ended up having to do my first two readings. And the prayers of the people and the announcements. With a priest who has never said Mass at our parish before. I was counting on having someone else to keep a little eye on to ensure that I'm doing things right, and ended up screwing up a time or two because I had NO safety net. Joy. Serving the Lord, crazy initiation challenge style.
In order to unwind, my husband and I ended up deciding to go to the Renaissance Faire, which was a lot of fun, but I had conveniently not been paying much attention to the extreme heat advisories. Baking heat, massive humidity did not make four hours walking around outside the most optimal of ideas, but luckily my husband and I enjoy the Faire so much that it was worth it. We saw a couple comedic shows, which were delightful, and enjoyed the food, drink, shopping, and funne at ye faire. In addition to last year's corset acquisition, I now have a lovely underdress for which Birch will make a lovely overskirt. Tada, boring description of weekend accomplished! Still no knitting pictures! However will I maintain my extensive readership? Who knows.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Astonishing Progress Against Knitting Friction
There has been some astonishing progress with the ol' sticksnstring lately, mostly because I stealthily cast on (and off) a pair of mittens for my 2 year old neighbor girl for Christmas (It's only five and a half months away, people!). She's absolutely adorable and I think every single preschooler NEEDS to have a pair of bright red mittens, preferably on a little fingerknit string to prevent mitten loss. They should be issued on their second birthday, just to ensure full penetration of the preschooler market. I picked up some Debbie Stoller Alpaca Love at Michaels on clearance a few weeks ago in bright red and bubblegum pink, which immediately gave me visions of a 2-row striped scarf and mittens for the Neighbor Cutie. Surprise, surprise...once I cast on, the mittens took about 2 hours each, and I'm slow. Armed with this knowledge, I suddenly feel a knitting binge coming on, with plenty of bright red alpaca/wool and two more toddlers among my coworkers to be recipients. This is going to be a doozy.
Also, among my FO list for the day is the first Rockin Sock, with the second being cast on as we speak. I love this pattern (Unisex Slip) and will probably return to it a fair amount from here on. That makes three, count 'em, three FO's in one day, which is a marvelous victory. When Birch is done, it will have absorbed so much knitting victory that I will have no choice but to drape it about my shoulders every time I knit for a deadline, just for the mojo.
All this thinking about progress has me looking back a little at my history with knitting. I learned the knit stitch, longtail cast on, and the classic bindoff from my mother as a child, but quickly developed a chronic low grade distaste for garter stitch, especially in rectangular forms. Since she felt she could not impart any further skills in this area, that was about all I had, so I dropped it. My college freshman roommate was a crocheter, but too mean to bother to teach me, so all that did for me was spur me to pick knitting back up out of spite, to have a competing interest. I struggled for years to understand book descriptions of the purl stitch until one day it clicked and my knitting world expanded.
This is the story of my knitting life...I learned almost everything myself through a process of beating my head against it until one day my hands just do it out of nowhere. I learned knitting in the round on DPN's when a friend in my medical school days made me a stethoscope cozy and pointed out where the pattern was online. Google those words and you'll find it too. I struggled and struggled and one day it just made sense for no reason. The seventeen inches of in the round stockinette per cozy was a perfect way to practice DPN use, and the widening at the top taught me another useful skill...M1 increases. My increases always looked like poo until I realized that a KFB was not the only one around. Learning to knit in the round was absolutely a watershed moment for me, in that it significantly widened the possibilities for me and made anything possible. That was when I met the crowning love of my entire knitting career - socks. Once I made a couple, I was hooked.
My hands suddenly learned to do two-handed stranded colorwork the very same way just a month or two ago...rather spooky actually. It was the same theme of struggling and struggling and one moment I looked down and the movements were smooth, different than other ways I had tried before for no reason I could fathom. Lately, I've been struggling and struggling against that absurd deadline on Birch and then suddenly the friction gave way and now I have three FO's. Knitting has friction, oh yes...now I just have to figure out the coefficient of friction and I'll be able to overcome it more easily. (Yes, I took physics in college. Yes, I'm making a physics-related point in a knitting blog. I'm just that cool.)
Also, among my FO list for the day is the first Rockin Sock, with the second being cast on as we speak. I love this pattern (Unisex Slip) and will probably return to it a fair amount from here on. That makes three, count 'em, three FO's in one day, which is a marvelous victory. When Birch is done, it will have absorbed so much knitting victory that I will have no choice but to drape it about my shoulders every time I knit for a deadline, just for the mojo.
All this thinking about progress has me looking back a little at my history with knitting. I learned the knit stitch, longtail cast on, and the classic bindoff from my mother as a child, but quickly developed a chronic low grade distaste for garter stitch, especially in rectangular forms. Since she felt she could not impart any further skills in this area, that was about all I had, so I dropped it. My college freshman roommate was a crocheter, but too mean to bother to teach me, so all that did for me was spur me to pick knitting back up out of spite, to have a competing interest. I struggled for years to understand book descriptions of the purl stitch until one day it clicked and my knitting world expanded.
This is the story of my knitting life...I learned almost everything myself through a process of beating my head against it until one day my hands just do it out of nowhere. I learned knitting in the round on DPN's when a friend in my medical school days made me a stethoscope cozy and pointed out where the pattern was online. Google those words and you'll find it too. I struggled and struggled and one day it just made sense for no reason. The seventeen inches of in the round stockinette per cozy was a perfect way to practice DPN use, and the widening at the top taught me another useful skill...M1 increases. My increases always looked like poo until I realized that a KFB was not the only one around. Learning to knit in the round was absolutely a watershed moment for me, in that it significantly widened the possibilities for me and made anything possible. That was when I met the crowning love of my entire knitting career - socks. Once I made a couple, I was hooked.
My hands suddenly learned to do two-handed stranded colorwork the very same way just a month or two ago...rather spooky actually. It was the same theme of struggling and struggling and one moment I looked down and the movements were smooth, different than other ways I had tried before for no reason I could fathom. Lately, I've been struggling and struggling against that absurd deadline on Birch and then suddenly the friction gave way and now I have three FO's. Knitting has friction, oh yes...now I just have to figure out the coefficient of friction and I'll be able to overcome it more easily. (Yes, I took physics in college. Yes, I'm making a physics-related point in a knitting blog. I'm just that cool.)
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Ask the Knitting Gamer 1
Boring. Boring. Boring. My knitting is proceeding pretty much at a steady clip, and I'm most of the way in on my first Rockin Sock and so close to finishing Birch I can taste it. Sadly, however, there are no FO's and I'm not in the habit yet of taking pictures of WIP's. I can feel all zero of you beating down my door with pitchforks and torches, demanding "Where are the pictures! Must have pictures!" You will just all have to wait! I can't take this pressure! Aaaaah!
Instead, today we'll be starting a segment I like to call Ask the Knitting Gamer, or How Games and Knitting Do Not Mix.
Hello and welcome to Ask the Knitting Gamer. I have to say, with Gen Con coming up in two weeks, the excitement of being able to frighten unwashed gamer-boys with shiny pointy sticks is building to a fever pitch!
It sure is, Kiki!
Q: So, as the wife of a committed, though usually washed, gamer-boy, what kind of advice do you have for the novice Gamer Widow?
A: First of all, I want to reassure all knitters newly hitched to a gamer that his (ok fine, or her) hobby is actually ideally suited to your needs if you have the right attitude and carefully execute the Game Avoidance Technique I am about to describe. The types of events attended by gamers and their entourage are fairly ideal places to knit. A typical board game costs about as much as a skein or two of REALLY nice sock yarn (I'm talking the cashmere, people!) or several skeins of what you usually buy after petting the cashmere for a few minutes. If you work out a tit-for-tat hobby budget with your gamer, you get to feed the stash every time they succumb to their LGS (LYS equivalent) and that just warms the heart.
Q: What Game Avoidance Technique? How do you avoid the incessant demands to "participate" whenever games are laid out, thereby actually getting to knit?
A: Sadly, one of the biggest problems with having a gamer in your life is that their hobby, particularly if the video branch of the game tree is not their favorite, is by necessity a social one. There are few games that can be played alone, and those that can be generally suck anyway for single-player. I'm sure you can sympathize with how badly this must bother the poor gamers...unlike knitters, they can't practice their hobby any time they want. Thus, when they're in the mood to play and there is no event to attend, married gamers must pounce on their poor wives with demands to play. Here's how to maximize knitting time anyway.
(1) Have a headache, or the more believable alternative "heartburn."
(2) When at game events, which must stretch for hours to accomodate the playing of more than one game, play one game only, preferably a mid-range not-so-long one, and then sit at the table in an out-of-the-way chair and knit with a look on your face that says "I'm totally interested in the game you guys are playing."
(3) Gain a reputation for being the official knitter at game groups, with ass-kissing knitted gifts to the leadership if necessary.
(4) Play games that require significant thinking time during one's turn so that you can get an entire row or two in while everyone else takes their turn. This is particularly effective if you don't mind losing because you're missing everyone else's strategy. Note: this is not the time for cabling or lace...it gets tiresome if you're too absorbed in your work when your own turn arrives.
Join us next time, when we will be discussing Learning to Spin at a Gaming Convention, and How to Walk Through a 10,000 Person Crowd and Knit A Scarf Too
Instead, today we'll be starting a segment I like to call Ask the Knitting Gamer, or How Games and Knitting Do Not Mix.
Hello and welcome to Ask the Knitting Gamer. I have to say, with Gen Con coming up in two weeks, the excitement of being able to frighten unwashed gamer-boys with shiny pointy sticks is building to a fever pitch!
It sure is, Kiki!
Q: So, as the wife of a committed, though usually washed, gamer-boy, what kind of advice do you have for the novice Gamer Widow?
A: First of all, I want to reassure all knitters newly hitched to a gamer that his (ok fine, or her) hobby is actually ideally suited to your needs if you have the right attitude and carefully execute the Game Avoidance Technique I am about to describe. The types of events attended by gamers and their entourage are fairly ideal places to knit. A typical board game costs about as much as a skein or two of REALLY nice sock yarn (I'm talking the cashmere, people!) or several skeins of what you usually buy after petting the cashmere for a few minutes. If you work out a tit-for-tat hobby budget with your gamer, you get to feed the stash every time they succumb to their LGS (LYS equivalent) and that just warms the heart.
Q: What Game Avoidance Technique? How do you avoid the incessant demands to "participate" whenever games are laid out, thereby actually getting to knit?
A: Sadly, one of the biggest problems with having a gamer in your life is that their hobby, particularly if the video branch of the game tree is not their favorite, is by necessity a social one. There are few games that can be played alone, and those that can be generally suck anyway for single-player. I'm sure you can sympathize with how badly this must bother the poor gamers...unlike knitters, they can't practice their hobby any time they want. Thus, when they're in the mood to play and there is no event to attend, married gamers must pounce on their poor wives with demands to play. Here's how to maximize knitting time anyway.
(1) Have a headache, or the more believable alternative "heartburn."
(2) When at game events, which must stretch for hours to accomodate the playing of more than one game, play one game only, preferably a mid-range not-so-long one, and then sit at the table in an out-of-the-way chair and knit with a look on your face that says "I'm totally interested in the game you guys are playing."
(3) Gain a reputation for being the official knitter at game groups, with ass-kissing knitted gifts to the leadership if necessary.
(4) Play games that require significant thinking time during one's turn so that you can get an entire row or two in while everyone else takes their turn. This is particularly effective if you don't mind losing because you're missing everyone else's strategy. Note: this is not the time for cabling or lace...it gets tiresome if you're too absorbed in your work when your own turn arrives.
Join us next time, when we will be discussing Learning to Spin at a Gaming Convention, and How to Walk Through a 10,000 Person Crowd and Knit A Scarf Too
Monday, July 11, 2011
Confessions of a no-longer-Teenage Product Knitter
I hereby confess that Birch is not yet done. 80% of the way, yes, but not yet there. I ended up wearing my non-handknit backup shawl for the wedding and feeling sure that it was far inferior in every way. The wedding was wonderful, despite being unfamiliar with the bride, the groom, and everyone else present with the exception of my mother and brother. The mother of the bride, a good friend of my mother, looked beautiful and relaxed, and the bride herself was, as expected, radiant. I've never before danced at a wedding in front of monkeys and a scared armadillo, but the choice of the Cleveland Zoo for the reception location was a brilliant one. So much fun for a wedding I all but crashed.
Not making "deadline" on Birch has brought me back to the state I had intended to be in the entire time...just a relaxed victory lap through a couple of interesting, delicious projects. The third Rockin Sock Club pair, the plain pair, and the end of Birch can now go back to their respective places as my work knitting, my distracted knitting, and my sitting-at-home-concentrating knitting. Instead of despising spring green mohair to the core of my being, I'm charmed by it again. Instead of languishing in the corner of my desk, the Unisex Slip socks can return to being fondly petted and squeezed and called George. Dressing for the wedding with an unfinished Birch was a reset button on my entire attitude toward life and knitting, which was just what I needed. Sometimes we knitters who lean toward the product side get so crazy and fixated on having the product for a specific deadline-driven purpose that our limitations just get wiped from our memories. You don't even really like knitting in that state...the knitting of it is holding you back from the having of it.
I always thought there was something noble about being a process knitter, something more patient and accepting and selfless. "I have no need for this material possession. I need only the act of creation." Since everyone knows that we define ourselves by what we want to be, not what we are, my belief in my own process-knitter-ness was firm and unwavering. I've begun to notice, however, a certain unmistakeable pride in wearing my own handknits. A lack of enthusiasm toward projects intended for others, particularly a certain sweater my husband will never wear at this rate. A drive to complete a shawl in a totally unreasonable timeframe just so I can wear it. The choosing of projects no longer for the skills I'll acquire along the way or for the interesting execution but because dammit I want that scarf. I'm Kiki the Alto, and I'm a product knitter.
Not making "deadline" on Birch has brought me back to the state I had intended to be in the entire time...just a relaxed victory lap through a couple of interesting, delicious projects. The third Rockin Sock Club pair, the plain pair, and the end of Birch can now go back to their respective places as my work knitting, my distracted knitting, and my sitting-at-home-concentrating knitting. Instead of despising spring green mohair to the core of my being, I'm charmed by it again. Instead of languishing in the corner of my desk, the Unisex Slip socks can return to being fondly petted and squeezed and called George. Dressing for the wedding with an unfinished Birch was a reset button on my entire attitude toward life and knitting, which was just what I needed. Sometimes we knitters who lean toward the product side get so crazy and fixated on having the product for a specific deadline-driven purpose that our limitations just get wiped from our memories. You don't even really like knitting in that state...the knitting of it is holding you back from the having of it.
I always thought there was something noble about being a process knitter, something more patient and accepting and selfless. "I have no need for this material possession. I need only the act of creation." Since everyone knows that we define ourselves by what we want to be, not what we are, my belief in my own process-knitter-ness was firm and unwavering. I've begun to notice, however, a certain unmistakeable pride in wearing my own handknits. A lack of enthusiasm toward projects intended for others, particularly a certain sweater my husband will never wear at this rate. A drive to complete a shawl in a totally unreasonable timeframe just so I can wear it. The choosing of projects no longer for the skills I'll acquire along the way or for the interesting execution but because dammit I want that scarf. I'm Kiki the Alto, and I'm a product knitter.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Birch-a-riffic
I really have absolutely no time today to post anything other than a statement that Birch is 31% done (by the Shawl Progress Calculator) and I continue to labor at breakneck speed believing that the remaining 69% will be done by Saturday. An entire triangle mohair shawl, 238 ever decreasing rows, completed in 8 days. This is madness. Send reinforcements.
Monday, July 4, 2011
Baby, You're A Firework
Happy Fourth of July to all zero of my American readers. 235 years is the blink of an eye compared to the long history of the nations that birthed and midwifed us. 235 years has changed us deeply but has made little impact on the central things we hold dear.
235 years ago:
235 years ago:
My ancestors still lived in the United Provinces of the Netherlands, Roman Catholics in a predominantly Protestant nation. Their region and their province were descending into an economic depression in the most ruthlessly capitalist society of their day.
My husband's ancestors probably already lived in Santa Fe, (eventually to become New) Mexico. It wouldn't be until his father's generation that members of his family stopped primarily speaking Spanish.
The women who unknowingly would lead to me and my husband were spinning, knitting, weaving, and creating. They provided clothing for their families as part of their work, and they were proud to do it. Skills I know and want to learn today as a passionate hobby, for fun, they were doing on a daily basis because otherwise those in their care just plain wouldn't be clothed.
The Wolf River I floated down today in an inner tube was being visited by deer, badgers, birds, dragonflies...and Native Americans. It was surrounded by forest, where farmland and small rural towns stand today. Where my house now stands, Native Americans of a related tribe, if not the same one, were hunting, beginning to trade with the European trappers who stumbled into the area and were making themselves at home. They built a community in a place they called The Good Land next to a really big lake that, for all they knew, may as well have been the ocean.
None of the peoples mentioned above probably had much of an idea 235 years ago today about the events that were taking place in Philadelphia. If they had heard of the English king and his colonies, it was as a side note to their everyday lives. As a result of the ensuing 235 years, the nation I'm proud to call my home has been molded into what she is today. Those condescended-to Dutch Catholics who had lost everything, those proud descendents of Spanish military men who built a thriving town in the mountain desert of northern Mexico, the different kinds of people who turned this nice place for a harbor into a port town, all found a place in this nation. Happy 235th, USA. Compared to the nations whose tired, poor, and disheartened you welcomed, you're a firework. Brilliant, explosive with progress, and impossible to hold down without getting burned.Friday, July 1, 2011
Difficult Day
Today is going to be a little difficult. There, I said it. Normally, I don't make any particular judgments about days, at least not on the negative side, preferring to let them happen and see what comes of it. I'm not so reluctant to proclaim a day as having been particularly happy, but this is usually in retrospect. My wedding day, the day I graduated from medical school, and the like as obvious exceptions. In this case, I have my reasons for saying that this day might suck, just a little.
(1) To top the list, I was supposed to become a third year resident today. All my medical school friends are, and for two of them, it's their last year of residency. It would have been mine, had I not made a fateful decision to switch specialties. The day one year from now when two of my bestest friends finish their residency for good, I will (hopefully) be starting all over at the beginning. That just plain hurts, and I haven't given it two seconds' thought until now.
(2) Today, ERAS opens. That means that today is the first step in a journey back to residency, and I'm worried. I'm worried that everything I'm doing will be a waste of time and money and emotional investment if next March does not find me headed to a new position. I'm worried that the faith in me that is being shown by my husband, my boss/mentor, my old program director, will mean nothing if programs take one look at me and decide to look elsewhere.
(3) Today, the Pediatric Pathology practice manager who was the first one to really usher me in and make me feel welcome here is leaving for a new job. I've only known him since February, knitted him a nice gift, and wish him well, so this would be much less affecting if it wasn't for the above two points. I'm hit by the contrast between his bright future and my muddy one.
It must be a good thing that I've surrounded myself by yarny goodness, right? Date night tonight will include one danged stiff drink and possibly some dessert of a chocolatey nature.
(1) To top the list, I was supposed to become a third year resident today. All my medical school friends are, and for two of them, it's their last year of residency. It would have been mine, had I not made a fateful decision to switch specialties. The day one year from now when two of my bestest friends finish their residency for good, I will (hopefully) be starting all over at the beginning. That just plain hurts, and I haven't given it two seconds' thought until now.
(2) Today, ERAS opens. That means that today is the first step in a journey back to residency, and I'm worried. I'm worried that everything I'm doing will be a waste of time and money and emotional investment if next March does not find me headed to a new position. I'm worried that the faith in me that is being shown by my husband, my boss/mentor, my old program director, will mean nothing if programs take one look at me and decide to look elsewhere.
(3) Today, the Pediatric Pathology practice manager who was the first one to really usher me in and make me feel welcome here is leaving for a new job. I've only known him since February, knitted him a nice gift, and wish him well, so this would be much less affecting if it wasn't for the above two points. I'm hit by the contrast between his bright future and my muddy one.
It must be a good thing that I've surrounded myself by yarny goodness, right? Date night tonight will include one danged stiff drink and possibly some dessert of a chocolatey nature.
Thursday, June 30, 2011
The Newest Love of My Knitterly Life
This always seems to happen. Just when I think I am fed up with my knitting, just when I am about to conclude that a stash composed primarily (by weight, if not by volume) of my husband's grandmother's acrylic worsted from the Seventies is completely uninspiring, it happens. On the heels of a finishitis victory over Second Sock Syndrome of legendary proportions, it happens.
I've been charmed to such an extent that I have now beaten my old record for "number of new cast ons in 24 hours." To knitters of dedication, passion, and skill, the number is ridiculously low to be a "record" for me. But however desultory I may be as a knitter, I tend to cast on new projects in a slow-ish but steady stream, mostly hopping between projects I already have on the needles. In the last 24 hours, I have cast on three projects. One of them twice. Two of them (to my shame...will I never learn?) socks. I know. I know. A grand total of 710 stitches cast on, if one includes the second run at Birch.
Each of the three projects begged to be cast on in a different way and for different reasons. After Second Sock Stravaganza, I spoke of a victory project of luxe yarn and awesome proportions. I found it in Birch, a Rowan pattern from #34 I think, out of Rowan Kid Silk Haze. Dreams of glory flitted through my head as I cast on, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it can float around my shoulders at this wedding my mother has requested I join her for next weekend. No way is this going to happen unless the long weekend provides far far far more knitting time than I figure it will. Crack Silk Haze is so far charming me because I'm knitting it in UltraFocus mode, knowing that any mistake is going to be a far bigger pain than it would be in any other yarn. It will be lovely. It's the newest love of my knitterly life.
With that on the brain, why socks? Why two? The first is the third RSC pair, made from the most gorgeous colorway of the year so far. I want to take the little yarncake, love it, squeeze it, and call it George. It's so beautiful I barely want to knit it up. What spurred me to cast on right now is the idea that all three pairs could be done before the fourth RSC package arrives at the end of July. The idea of being ahead of the game and ready to cast on #4 instantly is powerful juju. The second was cast on purely because my previous pair of plain, no frills stockinette socks is done, and I need a project to grab and take with me. Birch requires UltraFocus, so she stays home. The socks, particularly the plain ones, take care of time at work while I'm on the phone, when I need a little motivation (one row on the sock for every so many tasks completed...), that type of thing. See? SEE? The method behind my madness is beautiful and clear.
I promise that I am aware that a self-respecting knitting blog requires pictures. Pictures prove (sort of ) to the (nonexistent) readers out there that I do in fact create items of beauty, worth, merit, or supreme ugliness. Without them, I might just as easily be lying bold as brass to all zero of you. Pictures will follow whenever I can begin the habit of getting pictures off of my danged camera less than a year or two after I take them. On the upside, I have started the thrilling new habit of taking my new knits out for "official photoshoots" upon finishing. Part of the problem, I suspect, is that three of the five projects I've mentioned are from the Rockin' Sock Club, and are therefore unbloggable at present. So, there you go.
I've been charmed to such an extent that I have now beaten my old record for "number of new cast ons in 24 hours." To knitters of dedication, passion, and skill, the number is ridiculously low to be a "record" for me. But however desultory I may be as a knitter, I tend to cast on new projects in a slow-ish but steady stream, mostly hopping between projects I already have on the needles. In the last 24 hours, I have cast on three projects. One of them twice. Two of them (to my shame...will I never learn?) socks. I know. I know. A grand total of 710 stitches cast on, if one includes the second run at Birch.
Each of the three projects begged to be cast on in a different way and for different reasons. After Second Sock Stravaganza, I spoke of a victory project of luxe yarn and awesome proportions. I found it in Birch, a Rowan pattern from #34 I think, out of Rowan Kid Silk Haze. Dreams of glory flitted through my head as I cast on, thinking that maybe, just maybe, it can float around my shoulders at this wedding my mother has requested I join her for next weekend. No way is this going to happen unless the long weekend provides far far far more knitting time than I figure it will. Crack Silk Haze is so far charming me because I'm knitting it in UltraFocus mode, knowing that any mistake is going to be a far bigger pain than it would be in any other yarn. It will be lovely. It's the newest love of my knitterly life.
With that on the brain, why socks? Why two? The first is the third RSC pair, made from the most gorgeous colorway of the year so far. I want to take the little yarncake, love it, squeeze it, and call it George. It's so beautiful I barely want to knit it up. What spurred me to cast on right now is the idea that all three pairs could be done before the fourth RSC package arrives at the end of July. The idea of being ahead of the game and ready to cast on #4 instantly is powerful juju. The second was cast on purely because my previous pair of plain, no frills stockinette socks is done, and I need a project to grab and take with me. Birch requires UltraFocus, so she stays home. The socks, particularly the plain ones, take care of time at work while I'm on the phone, when I need a little motivation (one row on the sock for every so many tasks completed...), that type of thing. See? SEE? The method behind my madness is beautiful and clear.
I promise that I am aware that a self-respecting knitting blog requires pictures. Pictures prove (sort of ) to the (nonexistent) readers out there that I do in fact create items of beauty, worth, merit, or supreme ugliness. Without them, I might just as easily be lying bold as brass to all zero of you. Pictures will follow whenever I can begin the habit of getting pictures off of my danged camera less than a year or two after I take them. On the upside, I have started the thrilling new habit of taking my new knits out for "official photoshoots" upon finishing. Part of the problem, I suspect, is that three of the five projects I've mentioned are from the Rockin' Sock Club, and are therefore unbloggable at present. So, there you go.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Conqueror of Second Sock Syndrome
Today I achieved a momentous day in my knitting career. So momentous, in fact, that I had to open a blog just to tell the world about it. I have summarily conquered Second Sock Syndrome. How did I do this, you may ask, oh nonexistent reader? Read on, my friend, read on...
Three weeks ago, I found myself at the business end of a bit of a knitter's nightmare. A pair of socks that had been commissioned from me were complete, but three socks sat before me, all unpaired for various reasons. One I miscalculated how much Koigu KPPPM it would take to make a pair, ending up with a single sock and far too little to make her mate, at which point the universe decided that the colorway needed to vanish from my immediate environs and the number of the colorway needed to vanish from my memory. By the time more was obtained, the sock had sat around pairless for too long. The second loner was from the Socks that Rock Rockin' Sock Club (sorry, no pics allowed...) in a pattern that ended up being more fiddly than I expected. No, scratch that...it was an epic stranded colorwork battle that I barely survived, being something of a noob to stranded colorwork. Worse yet, I made them in the smallest size, knowing that I was planning on giving them away to a friend with tiny feet. A pair of socks that epic with no hope of wearing them gleefully at the end? Please, child. I would rather get stabbed with a rusty DPN than cast on #2. The third was my friend, another RSC pattern that charmed the absolute snot out of me, with the first sock newly finished.
At this point, I made a resolution: it was time for Second Sock Stravaganza. I would not take any other project seriously until three second socks were made, done, gone. Upon completion, a project that (for the love of Gawd) would not be a sock would be selected and made purely to proclaim my victory. No absolute deadline was made, but an informal deal with myself was witnessed by my husband who would be annoyed daily by running commentary on my status. It was in his best interest to bug me to get the things done.
The plan was simple, though in retrospect quite backwards. I would pick up momentum by completing That Pair I Loved. I'd whip through plain-stockinette Koigu, and finally have the wherewithal to attempt Mount FairIsle. If I had been smart, I would have conquered the mountain first before coasting to victory on the other two, but that would have required brains.
After an epic uphill climb involving significant amounts of knitting while reading laboratory policies and procedures at work, I stand before you today with two new pairs of socks for myself and one for a friend that kind of looked like a colorwork version of a man's anatomy while I was knitting the heel. Seriously.
Next: Birch, a lace mohair shawl. Not a sock. Not even remotely close. To Victory!!!!!!
Three weeks ago, I found myself at the business end of a bit of a knitter's nightmare. A pair of socks that had been commissioned from me were complete, but three socks sat before me, all unpaired for various reasons. One I miscalculated how much Koigu KPPPM it would take to make a pair, ending up with a single sock and far too little to make her mate, at which point the universe decided that the colorway needed to vanish from my immediate environs and the number of the colorway needed to vanish from my memory. By the time more was obtained, the sock had sat around pairless for too long. The second loner was from the Socks that Rock Rockin' Sock Club (sorry, no pics allowed...) in a pattern that ended up being more fiddly than I expected. No, scratch that...it was an epic stranded colorwork battle that I barely survived, being something of a noob to stranded colorwork. Worse yet, I made them in the smallest size, knowing that I was planning on giving them away to a friend with tiny feet. A pair of socks that epic with no hope of wearing them gleefully at the end? Please, child. I would rather get stabbed with a rusty DPN than cast on #2. The third was my friend, another RSC pattern that charmed the absolute snot out of me, with the first sock newly finished.
At this point, I made a resolution: it was time for Second Sock Stravaganza. I would not take any other project seriously until three second socks were made, done, gone. Upon completion, a project that (for the love of Gawd) would not be a sock would be selected and made purely to proclaim my victory. No absolute deadline was made, but an informal deal with myself was witnessed by my husband who would be annoyed daily by running commentary on my status. It was in his best interest to bug me to get the things done.
The plan was simple, though in retrospect quite backwards. I would pick up momentum by completing That Pair I Loved. I'd whip through plain-stockinette Koigu, and finally have the wherewithal to attempt Mount FairIsle. If I had been smart, I would have conquered the mountain first before coasting to victory on the other two, but that would have required brains.
After an epic uphill climb involving significant amounts of knitting while reading laboratory policies and procedures at work, I stand before you today with two new pairs of socks for myself and one for a friend that kind of looked like a colorwork version of a man's anatomy while I was knitting the heel. Seriously.
Next: Birch, a lace mohair shawl. Not a sock. Not even remotely close. To Victory!!!!!!
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