Detour from the Sock Tour for a Big Ta-Da

Once upon a time there was a book called Mason-Dixon Knitting. I bought this book on impulse in 2005, when I was pregnant with my daughter. It called to me across a crowded bookstore and said, "Take Up Thy Needles, We Promise It Won't Hurt This Time."

And Lo, it was Correct.

Since then, I've been a huge fan of the Shayne and Gardiner oeuvre, and their smart, well-written books and blog have also led me to other fantastic knitting godmothers, like Ms Righetti, Ms. Zimmermann, and Ms. Starmore.

Funny thing, though, I haven't knit many of their patterns. I've done baby kimonos and ballband dishcloths, and that's it. Until--

The Log Cabin.

Log Cabining, as Kay calls it, is less a pattern and more a lifestyle. It's zen knitting at its best; knit back and forth, make stripes wider or thinner, follow your cabin-y bliss. (Those Moderne Baby Blankets that some people seem to make by the truckload are the love child of Log Cabin and Mondrian.)

Here is mine--over a year in the making (non-monogamous, of course), many many shades of worsted wool on size 8 needles, 9-ridge garter stripes, around and around and around until I felt done.

(National Geographic for scale. The seemingly-semi-annual King Tut issue. Which was actually very interesting but made me laugh when I saw the cover. Circulation down much?)

I started this project a year ago June and worked on it on and off until a week or so ago. I wish my photos did the colors more justice--i'll have to try again--because they are just every shade of lovely in my life. Peacock, olive, royal purple, leaf, denim, charcoal, black and more on the cool side; flame, tangerine, spice, traffic cone, mustard, burgundy, sunshine, and toast on the warm side. Some from stash, some left over from patterns, some from the rest of my Aunt Iva yarn, some purchased just because I couldn't resist. Most solid, some heathered, one marled, one tweed. Cascade 220, nameless worsted wool, Paton's classic, and even some leftover Dream in Color Classy and Artyarns Supermerino.

I love the way the colors play with and off of each other. Combinations I never would have expected to love ended up giving me happy little fits of infatuation: olive and peacock; blue-green and denim blue; sunshine yellow and almost-purple, burgundy and spice.

The knitting in this sucker is so straightforward it's almost like breathing, but there were a few technique references that helped me make it the best blanket it could be.

First off, I had trouble picking up stitches along the sides and tops of the garter stripes, and the first few strips had yucky ridges running along the back. I knew from discussion on the Mason-Dixon KAL that some knitters were just leaving their stitches live on holders, but I didn't want to deal with huge long pieces of waste yarn or tons of holders, especially because I wanted this to be pretty good-sized; plus, I felt like the bound-off strips would give more structure and stability, make it feel more quilt-like.

Fate stepped in just a few weeks after I started the project when the Yarn Harlot posted here about her method for picking up in garter stitch; one outstanding tutorial later I was off and running with a blanket where I like the back almost as much as the front.

So life went on well for a year or so, and then I came to the border, running into the challenge of a garter stitch border in-the-round. Why break that streak of all that lovely knit stitch with a bunch of purling???

Again, with the fate. Fleegle's tutorial for No-Purl Garter In the Round proved just the thing.

The border was a bit dicey with such a big blanket -- it didn't fit comfortably on even my longest circs, so I ended up with splitting the live stitches between two 40" circs around and then using a third 40" as the working needle, kind of like REALLY BIG DPNs.

The only thing I'd do differently if I did the border again would be to use YO increases (as in Fleegle's tutorial) rather than the raised increases I used--with black yarn I had a hard time seeing and marking the increase lines clearly and so two of my corners are kind of messed up. (In the sort of no-one-will-notice-but-me-but-it-still-bugs-me way.)

After I used up TWO ENTIRE balls of Patons Classic Wool for the border (12 ridges) it was time to bind off. what to use, what to use. Garter stitch is so flexible and stretchy, I hated to do a traditional bindoff, which is so, um, binding. I thought about a sewn bindoff but then got hives about the huge piece of yarn I would need to use for the sewing part. Jeny's Surprisingly Stretchy Bind-off was a contender, because I've been loving it so much for toe-up socks, but it didn't have the gravitas I envisioned.

Enter another tried-and-true Mason-Dixon staple: applied i-cord.

If you read Kay and Ann's blog you know they harbor an abiding love of i-cord and all things Elizabeth Zimmermann. Kay, in fact, had written a post about how to do a contrasting applied i-cord without any fancy manuevers or extra knitting to hide the "color blip." (Read it from her: it has pictures. I can vouch for the effectiveness.) The only thing I did differently than Kay is mine is only a 3-stitch i-cord.

At each corner, I knit one round of "free" i-cord before and after the corner stitch, which gave it a little ease. I think if I wanted the corners squarer, I could have done 2 rows. I didn't care.

So what did I end up with? A cushy, squishy, oh-so-warm blanket...reversible because the pick-up seams are hardly noticeable (and actually kind of pretty)...with a flexible, vivid red edging that echoes the center square and ties it all together.

We all love it.

Tour of socks, part three: Sharp Right Turn

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Originally uploaded by Wordpurler

In my very last post before going on my extended period of radio silence, I wrote about visiting Knit Purl in Portland and buying this yarn.

It's since become a pair of Skew socks, from Knitty, Winter 2009. This is an extremely clever, albeit extremely fiddly, pattern that yields a funny-looking but good-fitting (for my average-size feet and calves) sock.

The pattern is complex, no doubt. The designer, Lana Holden, is some kind of mathematical genius person and I'm guessing she dreamed it up in some sort of Beautiful Mind trance; possibly Paul Bettany appeared with a little girl and dictated the whole thing to her. For us average knitter types, though, it's a bit daunting. (When printed out, the pattern is 6 pages long.) (Yes, you read that right.)

Each bit of this pattern requires an unfortunate amount of attention to detail as well as Kitchener skillz for the heel. (Yes. The heel.) (I know.) There's very little mindlessness to this pattern because just when you get in the swing of things it changes from increasing every second row to every fourth, or something equally fidgety.

I started the first sock, the left one pictured here, back in the spring sometime, and worked on it sporadically. I hit some sort of snag that I can't remember (maybe Ed Harris, wearing a black fedora, was stalking me?) and set the project baggie aside until July. Then, during our idyllic week on beautiful Camano Island, I got it back out, fixed my mistake, figured out where I was in the pattern, and finished it up, starting the right foot immediately and finishing that two weeks later.

The socks fit well and I love the yarn, though it's a bit, I don't know, ROPY-feeling against my feet. It's a tightly spun yarn (Lorna's Laces Shepherd Sock in colorway Tahoe) and it may soften over time, I guess.

The verdict: interesting intellectual exercise that yielded good-fitting socks with a lovely diagonal stripe, but not exactly the mindless purse knitting I hope for in socks.

Divesting; or, Requiem for a Chair

Picture it: Bellingham, winter 2003. A hugely pregnant me navigates the aisles of Toys R Us with my mom, in search of a gliding rocker for my nursery. We've already been to three furniture stores and the cost of their gliders has nearly made me go into premature labor. This one, simple, creamy, and (best of all) AFFORDABLE goes home with us. Over the next seven years I log hour upon hour in this chair: nursing, snuggling, reading, or simply perching, watching Mr D and then Miss E play. If only these things came with odometers; I've surely glided hundreds of miles, front-to-back, back-to-front.

Today it went home with another soon-to-be mama. One who didn't mind the rip in the cushion, and talked with her mom about what color fabric would look good for slipcovers. One who'll also have a winter baby. I told her it was a good chair for nursing, and that the back is tall enough that when you fall asleep with the baby in your arms you don't hurt your neck. As I spoke I could see in a flash the exact view--crib, changing table, CD player, door--I saw for so many hours when Mr. D was an infant.

This summer has been one of divestiture: co-sleeper, breast pump, jogging stroller, crib, bike trailer, hiking backpack--all craigslisted or passed on to other families. Bag upon bag of books, toys, and clothing has gone to Goodwill or to consignment stores. It feels wonderful to see empty space in the garage where once STUFF was.

It's melancholy, though, to realize that my kids don't need that stuff any more; that they can sit on the couch and tear through Calvin and Hobbes (as Mr. D's been doing all day) or ride with training wheels all the way to the neighborhood park (as Miss E did last week). The stuff of infancy and early childhood is rightfully moving on to new kids and families; I love being able to bless others with the objects that greased the wheels of our family machine for the last seven years.

And with each object moving on, there is more space for the next phase, the next project; big kid bikes, tools, art supplies, camping gear. I hope we remember, though, the peace of fewer things, of more space, of ROOM.

Tour of socks, part two: Modified Milkmaid

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Originally uploaded by Wordpurler

Strictly speaking, this should have been the first stop on our tour, because it was the first pair of socks I made last year, and the first of my semi-obsessive set of Upstream constructions. Oops. Please excuse me the non-chronological order of our tour.

One of the patterns in New Pathways for sock knitters is for the Milkmaid Socks. They are a darling pair of white and blue socks with a lace inset. (Most milkmaids would probably end up with cow pie on their socks, but these must be for some sort of Disney-fied clean and tidy milkmaid, or for one with highly effective rubber boots.)

I received this Lane Cervinia yarn in a swap package and it sat around in my stash for a year or so until, one day, it called out to me that it needed to be socks.

(This was after I tried to force it into becoming an Ishbel shawlette. Epic Fail. It wanted to be socks.)

I dug out the New Pathways book and, remembering how much this yarn hated to be lace, started a standard toe and a plain stockinette foot on size 2 needles. By the time I finished the gusset and heel I decided to spice things up a bit and stole a modified Feather-and-Fan cuff from the Milkmaid socks. (It uses p2tog rather than k2tog for the decreases, which yields a very interesting texture.)

And, where I'd ended up with neck and shoulder pain when I knitted socks on size 0s or 1s, size 2s seemed to work just dandy.

A tour of socks, part one: Marsh-a, Marsh-a, Marsh-a!

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Originally uploaded by Wordpurler

In the spirit of rediscovering our friendship, I'd like to start small. To start with the small projects that I have been doing while taking breaks from (procrastinating on) my larger, more complicated projects.

I've been a sporadic sock-knitter since I made my first pair in 2007, but for some reason (coughCatBordhicough) I have really been churning them out lately.

It's not just because she's from the Pacific Northwest, or that she's a former teacher, that I think she's a genius. Cat Bordhi's brain really must work differently from other knitters'. I've been working my way (non-systematically) through the various "sockitectures" in her book New Pathways for Sock Knitters, and with her clear directions and clever twists, each pair of socks turns out just lovely.

This particular pair were made for my sister-in-law. She loves these colors, so when I got the yarn on sale from Knitpicks (Felici, in the color Marsh, now discontinued) I knew they would be for her.

I used a Whirlpool toe, then did 2x1 rib across the top of the foot, then the Upstream architecture for the gusset, which creates a triangle shape on top of the instep. Then I did a reinforced heel and a stockinette leg, then ended with a 2x1 rib cuff and Jeni's Surprisingly Stretchy Bindoff.

I don't know what it is about Upstream but it fits my foot and leg incredibly well. And, apparently, my sister-in-law's, because she loves these. She's not a knitter, so the idea of seamless socks ("There's no bump over my toe!" she exclaimed) was revolutionary.

As for the yarn--Felici is incredibly soft and silky. I used size 2 needles so I'm a bit worried about wear--the fabric wasn't incredibly dense--but it really was a joy to knit with.

Next up: more socks!

Hello old friend

April 6? Can that be right? Surely Blogger has made a mistake.

(It hasn't. And don't call it Shirley.)

You know how you have that friend who lives far away and sometimes you go months without calling or e-mailing and the longer time you spend without calling you convince yourself more and more that it would be awkward, nay, an IMPOSITION to call, and then one day you put on your big girl panties and you dial that long-distance number and you hear her voice say "Hello?" and you say, "Hi, it's me," and she says, "Hello!" with joy in her voice and, "I'm sorry it's been so long, I've been MEANING to call you," and you say, "Me, too!" and then the conversation is off and running and you wonder what took you so long?

That's me with this blog.

So:

Hello! I've been MEANING to call you. There's been knitting, and thinking, and writing, and ONE MILLION HOUSE PROJECTS and travel and birthdays and all kinds of wonderfulness.

I can't wait to fill you in.

Gumption

I am not the world's most assertive person.

I am totally comfortable working with teenagers, and I have no problem managing my classes...It's my peers that get me.

When grown-ups are rude, insensitive, nasty, and/or unprofessional (and I've worked with folks that managed to be all four at once!) I just have no idea what to do. Sometimes it's because I don't want to draw anyone's fire...sometimes it's just that I don't want to be seen as bitchy. I've always been a peacemaker, and I forget sometimes that just covering over a problem sometimes lets it fester, and ends up making me feel bitter and unappreciated. I've really been working on this in my relationships lately.

So, with that in mind, dear readers--let me regale you with a story of how I grew some gumption this weekend.

We had dropped the kids off in Olympia with Grandma and Grandpa and then drove the rest of the way to Portland for a gift-night-away. We checked into in this cool hotel and then headed out for some exploration. (We're pretty wild; our most solid plan included Powell's and the Deschutes Brewpub.) As we walked out the door in the rain, I think I actually heard the angels sing and saw the clouds part for just an instant: kitty corner from our hotel was--wait for it--Knit Purl.

As we walked past I made M promise that I could go back before it closed that day. The treat of visiting a yarn store I've heard about on many podcasts and seen ads for in my favorite publications gleamed like an aura around the rest of the afternoon. We had a lovely late lunch and a fantastic poke about Powell's, leaving with gifts for everyone. (I bought Alice Starmore's The Celtic Collection for $10 plus a Robin Hobb book I've been trying to find used; M bought a pint glass.) He decided to poke about for a bit more and head back to the hotel, releasing me to go to Knit Purl.

He knows well that he will be bored out of his mind if he goes to a new yarn store with me. My normal pattern is this:

1. wander around the store 10 times (minimum) and take mental inventory of their stock list
2. imagine all the projects I could make with all the yarn I see
3. inspect the store samples
4. fondle the yarns I haven't seen before in person
5. pet the old familiar ones
6. become completely overwhelmed because of course I don't have my queue with me or even know what's on it and hadn't planned to buy yarn today and - ooh is that Madelinetosh? - and what on earth do I need? needles? a project bag? aaaaaaaaah!
7. then, and only then, buy something practical as a souvenir. (Seriously. In Port Townsend last month, I ended up with a row counter.)

This process usually takes me about 45 minutes. Now you see why M elected to go back to the hotel and read his book rather than watching me orbit the store like an ADD goldfish.

So here's where the gumption comes in.

There were about five or six other customers in the store, all pretty much doing the same thing as I was. Circling, petting, choosing--just breathing in the yarn fumes. But one customer was a bit more high maintenance. When I came in, she was at the counter and the saleswomen were looking something up for her on Ravelry. She was about 6 months pregnant, very chicly dressed--including those knitted Ugg boots that I personally think look like slippers but probably cost more than I make in two weeks) and sounded like she was an experienced knitter--asking about Spud and Chloe yarn (which Knit Purl doesn't carry), talking about patterns. She was completely monopolizing the sales staff and talking very loudly, running back and forth to the sock yarn wall (I think she was looking at the ShibuiKnits selection).

The thing that got me, though, was at one point, about two minutes after I walked in, the conversation turned to "big box" shopping.

Disparagingly, one of the saleswomen talked about when people come in asking for big box brands. "Oh, you have to go to someplace like Michael's for that, " she sneered.

"Yeah," said Preggo Uggs, mimicking their response to such a gauche request. "'Go out the door and up the road a few blocks.'"

"No," replied Snobby McSnobster. "For that I think you have to go to the suburbs."

Cue catty laughter all around.

The clouds rolled in on my lovely treat. The store's atmosphere went from boutique to bitch; from the best meaning of "exclusive" to the worst. I got a lump in my throat, and I felt like leaving--just slinking out the door. I clearly was not Knit Purl clientele material.

There's room in the world for every kind of knitter, I fumed silently, and knitting snobbery chaps my hide. If someone wants to use Red Heart for every project, at least they're knitting, and not axe murdering. If I were that saleswoman, I'd use that as an opening to say something like, "We don't carry that line here, but may I show you something similar?" or "Have you ever tried X?" Every person is a potential customer and every customer is worth your time and respect, even if they're going to leave with one skein of Cascade 220, not $250 worth of Debbie Bliss Cashmerino.

I pulled myself together, though, and ended up choosing two skeins of Lorna's Laces Shepherd Sock in the colorway "Tahoe," a beautiful blend of purples and aquas. It just matched my mood (not to mention my shirt) and will be a lovely reminder of our rainy weekend in Portland.

(side note: I see why so many people buy sock yarn as souvenirs--it's usually a good price point, there are often local dyers available, and it's very portable. I just wish I knit more socks.)

As I took it up to the counter, I resolved to say something when I normally wouldn't have, when I usually would just have stored up my frustration and never darkened their doors again. As the saleswoman (not the snobby one, phew!) wrapped up my yarn and swiped my card, I mentioned how excited I'd been to see their store was so close to my hotel and that it was my first visit.

"Well, welcome!" she said.

"I don't mean to be rude," I said, "but I just wanted to say that I live in the suburbs, and I sometimes shop at Michael's. To hear that as a topic of conversation in such a disparaging tone when I came into the shop didn't feel very welcoming."

She looked a bit chagrined. "I can see that. I'm sorry."

"Just some food for thought from a customer service perspective," I said, smiling, and took my yarn.