In which I make up for lost time

Swatching sure FEELS like a waste of time--can I get an Amen?

That said, I know IN THEORY that it is an absolutely essential part of making handmade, not homemade, knits. "Use your head to save your feet," as my grandpa would say, or in this case, to save your hands. "Take time to save time," as Melissa Leapman says, IN ALL CAPS, in Cables Untangled.

So I'm choosing to act the part of the virtuous, organized, paced knitter, and am demonstrating for you here the SWATCH I INTENTIONALLY KNITTED for the Swallowtail Shawl.

It CERTAINLY IS NOT a SHAWL I STARTED and then MESSED UP and COULDN'T FIGURE OUT HOW TO FIX and so BOUND OFF and CALLED IT A SWATCH TO SAVE FACE. Nosirree Bob.

I learned two things--and that's what this is all about, right, learning? Having fun?

First: I like lace. I really really like it.

Second: Threading a lifeline is a good idea.

If Baby E is allowed to play with Barbies (for one) and is interested in Barbies (for two), Barbie is sure going to have one heck of a purty shawl.

The color is very red. This is my absolute favorite color in all the world, though I don't own many true red clothing items. I'm already imagining wearing it with a 3/4-length-sleeved black ballet tee. Drool.

In which I show off my cute kids

As a rule, I object to gratuitous cute kid pictures. My children are people, dammit, not sweatshop workers toiling to provide fodder for my blog, to be digested and spit out by the voracious knitblog community!

(For the record, I disapprove of gratuitous cat pictures, too.)

That said, I just HAD to show you how cute my daughter and niece look in their Easter dresses. That's baby E on the left, niece G on the right. G just turned 10 months, E will be 10 months on the 19th.

(And, oh, that guy in the middle's pretty cute, too...just no handknits.)

Beyond the kiddo ogling, there was Scrabble. There were trail walks. There were trips to the mall. There were glasses of wine and bowls of gelato. There was sushi. A lovely visit!

In which I write yesterday's post (again)

It's the little things.

Like...not having enough stitches at the end of a row of lace knitting.

Like...not having any idea how you lost a stitch and then realizing you're not even sure which row you're on.

Like...not having threaded a lifeline.

Like...not having a problem with frogging, since you've only done 3 or 4 repeats. (It's a swatch! am I right?)

Like...not having batteries in the camera.

The little things.

In which I write yesterday's post

Yoga for Knitters led by Maureen Braun. The ad in our community college's flyer caught my eye, and I asked for the class as an early birthday present. Headed off at 10:45 on Sunday morning for 5 hours of "me time." Just being kidless for five hours, much as I love them, was a gift in itself...and getting to knit AND do restorative yoga AND have a leisurely lunch? Bliss.

Being a chicken blogger, I didn't take any photos during the class, but here's a still life from the day...the start of my tea cosy, in rice stitch; the patterns; my notepad from The Chrysalis Inn & Spa, a great location for this class; and Maureen's Yoga For Knitters book.



Here's how the day went:

INTRODUCTIONS: There were about 14 people, all women, in the class. Some were experienced knitters--one woman had supported herself knitting for 22 years, knitting commissions and garment samples and owning a retail store--while others were pretty raw newbies. Yay for the newbies! I'd say I was on the low end of total time knitting, but the middle-to-upper end of skill.

CENTERING THOUGHTS:
Maureen, the teacher, talked about the similarities she sees between knitting and yoga: ritual, repetition, and rhythm. She shared some stories about herself as a knitter and how she came to change from a product to a process knitter after giving herself a repetitive stress injury in her shoulder trying to finish a shawl.

This story really made me think about how I've been so focused on finishing M's chevron socks that I've neglected my health...knitting with a sore shoulder & elbow, etc.

We then wrote our own centering thought for the day, and Maureen had us couch them as "how can I" questions rather than "I must/need" statements. You can see mine in the photo above.

STARTING THE PROJECTS:

We made a little i-cord, which was, surprisingly, a new skill for at least half of the knitters, and then started off with the cable cast-on, also a new skill for many. I started visiting with the woman next to me, who had just moved here from Juneau, Alaska, where she taught in an alternative high school. That particularly focused buzz of knitting and voices in conversation filled the room.

The project I chose, of the two options, was a tea cosy in rice stitch. The original pattern (used with permission) is in One-Skein Wonders and calls for cashmere. (Um, why would I dress my teapot in cashmere?) I brought Paton's Classic Wool, which has been on sale at JoAnn this week, two for $8!

(The other project option was a dishcloth with a knit/purl pattern of hearts and I'm sort of dishclothed out right now. And why would I want anything other than my favorite Mason-Dixon pattern?)

Here's a bad macro shot of the rice stitch used for the cosy:

It's a super easy stitch that comes out looking like long johns. Love it!
RICE STITCH
Worked over an odd number of stitches (45, in this case):
Row 1 (RS): (P1, K1 tbl) until last stitch, P1
Row 2: K
(I'm pretty sure this is an old and common pattern found in lots of stitch dictionaries, so I don't think I'm breaking any copyright law by posting it here. Anyone know otherwise?)

We knitted until lunch, then took a 90-minute break. My friend & neighbor Analisa and I walked about a third of a mile into Fairhaven and lunched at the Colophon Cafe, one of my all-time favorite Bellingham places.

We returned to class, did an hour of restorative yoga using Maureen's cool book containing all her original drawings, and then closed with reflections.

The yoga was almost all chair yoga, I guess because one knits, typically, sitting? We did a little bit on the floor at the very end. As we stretched, I reflected on how I tend to rush through stretching when I do it on my own. Focusing on the sensations, the breathing, and really being present for your body...that's what I like about yoga--it forces me to stop and both think deeply and not think at all.

My only beef with the day--and it's a tiny one--is I wish they had just raised the class price $10 and given us the books instead of having to purchase them there. It was optional, of course, but I felt it added a little unnecessary commercialism to the day, and I also felt I needed to buy the book because I otherwise wouldn't remember much of the series of stretches we did. Again, a small thing.

In which I debate the value of drool

Antique glass. That's the colorway name of this sock yarn, handspun by a local spinnery selling its wares at my farmers' market.

I stopped, two kids in tow, and lost myself in the plies, the interplay of the greens and blues, the absolute gorgeousness of this green-blue-aqua-water fiber. Just looking at it, stroking its wooly goodness, I felt peaceful and calm.

Until I checked the tag.

$36. For 175 yards.

Unless I'm knitting footies, that meant $72 for a pair of socks. My sense of calm fled, followed by a sense of frustration and, dare I say it, guilt.

I want to support local artisans. I admire the chutzpah of anyone who tries to eke out a living teaching mosaic classes, or making mead, or being a potter, or growing basil (and not the OTHER herb for which Northwest Washington is famous). And I WANTED this yarn. But $72 is a hefty investment for me for ANYTHING. Living on one teacher's salary with a mortgage to pay and a hope of retirement before age 92 and a burning hatred of credit card debt--lets just say that M and I are very careful with our money.

I felt frustrated and outraged by the price point, and then I felt guilty for being frustrated, because, after all, they have to earn a living, too, and clearly being the sheep-to-skein creators of this fiber entails much of the proverbial blood, sweat, and tears.

I hope someday I can afford better to support my local artisans. In the meantime, though, my reality is what it is. So I found another way to support them--I found their website and sent them an encouraging e-mail instead.

In which I lace up

I'm finding that whenever I think, hmm, I don't know why anyone would want to knit X, I usually end up wanting to knit it within a few weeks. This category has included, but is not limited to: socks, fair isle, entrelac, and mitered squares.

My recent reading of Eunny Jang's archives got me thinking about lace, and this afternoon during a rainy, quiet hour when both children were napping, I cast on for this shawl.

Before, lace seemed too delicate, too fussy; now, after weeks of man-socks-on-size-1s it now feels positively decadent, and a bit clumsy, to pick up size 4s.

I'm working, like Eunny says to, on learning to read the knitting, searching for understanding of the purpose of each stitch to the pattern rather than being welded to the chart. This is working pretty well so far, and now that I finally seem to have conquered my block of which direction k2togs point vs ssks...well, I'm in business.

I think this is a lovely pattern, and I'm working it in an alpaca/silk blend in "true red". I envision wearing it over a black turtleneck. I'm hoping the vivid color will temper any possibility of Jemima Puddleduck syndrome.

In which I experiment on my spouse

The Trekking socks progress, a pair of fraternal twins.

Harvey, on the left, is the sensible one, definitely the left-brained older sibling. His heel is traditional heel stitch, bordered by a 3-stitch garter selvage. He asks nothing extra, says "please," "thank you," and "excuse me," and cleans his plate. He'll settle into a shoe with nary a complaint. Flying under the radar, Harvey's quiet class will always be underestimated.


Harry, however, is the rebellious, artsy second child. His heel rocks the eye-of-partridge stitch with a twisted German chain selvage. He is fussy, meticulous, and high maintenance. He will rebel against shoes--Fight the man!--wanting to show off his rockin' bod to the world. Though we live in the land of birkenstocks-and-socks, I'm doubting my mild-mannered husband will indulge Harvey's desire to be on display.

As the Yarn Harlot says, the only reason for making socks in this day and age is because you love someone.

Damn.

Speaking of loved ones...seems all of my artful still-lifes have earned a fan and an imitator...sincerest form of flattery and all that.

I heard the camera beeping the other day, and witnessed Mr D, age 4, walking purposefully about his room, arranging and recording his belongings for posterity.

A sample: