miter diplomacy Round 1

Our call to Kofi Annan for peacekeepers went unanswered. We read the papers. We understand. The first round of mitered square afghan assemby had to be handled all by ourselves.

Our plan was, start out calmy with a limited square swap, no need to attempt a full afghan layout. We'd mix up our use of colors and stripes, sew them into sets of four independently and meet again in two weeks to lay out the whole she-bang.

We have no restraint. 30 seconds after I walked into her place:




Tendencies quickly emerged.

There was reconsideration.........

and we found an agreeable first layout, knowing we still had options, when we meet again with these in sets of 4.

We have five squares left to knit, we wanted to see if any color combo was obviously missing. Umm, yeah, right.
After I showed her a really lumpy demo of how to do mattress stitch (not), we decided to see how long it'd take to steam/iron and weave in ends of a couple of squares.
Its not so bad. Really.

had to, want to, won't

Had to: buy this shirt.
I spent most of the weekend shooting a tourism job featuring an arts festival. With vendors. Sure the theory here is make money, not spend it, but how could I pass this by?

Want to: koolaid dye a big pile of sturdy Newfoundland gray worsted wool that a friend gave me in May. I was so happy with my light gray overdyeing last year and looking at Kathy's dyeing successes inspired me . I keep thinking of beets and the juice they make in such tempting deep red tones....

Won't : No beet dyeing! Here's why not. How much do I love the internet? I could easily have spent a whole day and a big honking red mess of cooked beets to end up with crappy brown on gray. mmmm-mm. Note that the site, which looks immensely helpful if you are interested in dyeing, opens with "novice dyers assume that beets will make a good dye" . Oh heellloo? over here? That's me you're speaking to!

I wonder if anything in my garden would make a good dye? I wonder if I'd be better off tucking a tiny sign in the flowers that says " KoolAid! Aisle 5. Go Now"

p.s. go click on the Yarnival button in my side bar, its a great idea by Eve . She must be a whiz at this editing/blogging/linking speed warp thing or maybe a lot of time on her hands..either way, I'm looking forward to learning about some new blogs this way. Check it out.

rekindled

Waterfire in Providence last Saturday night.

(Note the subtle titling to work this in. ) If you can, go. Schedule here. The image doesn't come close to the impact. Several city blocks of bonfires, lit in an old canal/river downtown, while music speakers set above the water line play haunting accompaniment: monks chanting, opera, world music. Its awesome in the true sense of AWE. Thousands of people show up to stroll & watch but its just about silent as this shirtless guy in the jean skirt - yet somehow looking extremely macho- lights the braziers from a black boat, except for one end of the canal, here, where he walks on old bridge supports. There's close to a hundred fires blazing by the end. Even the teenagers along reluctantly on this Mandatory Family Outing were blown away.

OK, we turn now from tribal togetherness and beauty to miters. A few more completed, clearly I was on a cream jag here. So far no two are alike.

I've been finishing miters and sticking them into plastic bags casually, when last week the mitering sister called to say she'd finished about a dozen, how was I doing.

To our surprise, when I took them out to count, our project is just like my mental state this week: only ten squares short of a full afghan.

No Mo SloMo

I could tell you what happened to me in July if only I knew what it was. Not doldrums, not lack of inspiration, nothing bad or sad or nasty. I apparently went into slo-mo. I have unfinished blog entries that document the condition, but I'll spare you.

Instead I'll show this baby hat and booties.

Pattern for the hat is from AlterKnits, the booties are a basic Lion Brand pattern and in real life are the same size as each other, I am a bad stuffer. I'd choose a more refined pattern for the next pair. An aside: do not do a search online looking for "booty". Trust me. I love this yarn. The colors are wonderful, the feel is soft & spongey, all this from one skein with a bit left over, and the hat reminds me very much of the tie-dyed new mama its going to.

The house refilled with guys, the camping son returned with a gimp addiction "Mom, its just like you with the knitting. I can't stop when I'm sitting around"


I managed to turn out one squoosh hat. Its KnitPicks Shine again. Love the stuff. I could be their poster child knitter. This specific hat didn't expand enough for the big headed friend it was supposed to cap, it was snapped up by another guy , so my squoosh backlog remains static. NO complaints, I like making these from time to time. Its nice to be appreciated by the sweaty teen boy herds. History of the squoosh hat here , toward the bottom of the post.

So if its productivity you're looking for, try the farmer's market.
Or my maybe next blog entry, I feel like the lethargy is lifted. Or maybe its the deadlines I have this week.........

I might be mitering

Many thanks for the dog sympathy, he's in decent shape, considering.

The incident, summed up in a letter from one son to his brother at camp:
"Gordo was attacked while I walked him. Pit bulls. He has his ass-meat sewn back on."
Would Hemingway be proud?

Lets move from ass-meat to yarnly pursuits, shall we?

More miters. Notice how few stick to the two color scheme. My un-Hemingway-esque tendencies to add more color and detail, revealed.

You'd think I'd have dozens additional, this week both my sons are gone. Its dashed my illusion that if only the guys weren't around all the time, I could catch up on work , the house'd be clean and stay that way, I'd reorganize my office, really get a ton of knitting done, go through the old clothes, finish that backyard landscaping project, make stuff (any stuff! lots o'stuff!), organize.

Not so much. I've been socializing, moving slowly, leaving dirty dishes in the sink (do not tell them! I am the dirty-dish police!) , we've been hanging out at the beach at dusk with wine...oh yeah, I remember, what we used to do 15 years ago before we were parents, what made me think we'd changed or grown? I'd like to tell you I'm off to do some of the productive things I just listed . Instead I set up some double parking out front, I persuaded a friend to come over and go for a paddle and swim.

(later ) Look what she brought me, you know what we'll be doing at night for the rest of this week. At least I knit while I watch, except the killing parts where I need to cover my eyes . Bada BING!

what you don't want to hear on the eve of a holiday weekend

(phone rings, its my older son who's taken the dog for a short hike with friends)
Mom! Quick! Bring the car down to the start of the trolley trail. Some dogs attacked Gordo and he's bleeding. We have to get him to the animal hospital. One was a pit bull....


I'll skip the nasty details, the closeup shots of the ooozing stitched up wounds with drains when we picked him up at the emergency hospital the next morning, the profanities spouted and the horrifying total of the vet bill. He's going to be OK but is looking pretty sad, and doped up.

The trip back to the beach in Delaware was cancelled but it s a beautiful weekend here, not such a bad Plan B. Friends made us a birthday dinner complete with sparklers and ice cream. Although considering that the dog leaves smeary stains from his wounds, I probably shouldn't have rented the steam carpet cleaner until after this is all healed.

Sock! The magic loop is the way to go for me. I just love this one. I couldn't have planned it but look how the yarn placed the heel colors and toe striping. I decided to try a three needle bind-off on the toe instead of grafting with kitchener. Worked for me. Thinking it might be a weaker ending, I reinforced it by sewing in the yarn ends. Its less fiddly and quicker, which is what I want when the knitting is over.

And my mom's sock adventure? She finished it, calling twice to make sure she interpreted the 4 needle pattern I'd given her onto the circ correctly, kvetching just a little that she really wasn't sure this was her kind of thing. Yesterday she called to say its done, its kind of cute but the sportweght sock yarn isn't as nice looking as that fingering weight I'd had, and she knew her lys was having a sale this weekend...... I believe she's hooked.

Have happy 4th to those in the US. Next post, the expanded miter square collection.

A bit of sky this week by the Old State House in Hartford CT.

contagion

I admire those who blog every day. How do you do it? Since my last post...

Summer arrived. I know this because we had our town road race (no member of my family looked this cute across the finish line, btw) and the daylilies bloomed.
School ended, and the concept of "working" from home went down the drain faster than you can fling a fully loaded backpack across the room yelling "DONE!". Until camp and summer programs start.
We headed south to the beach in Delaware for some family togetherness, since attempting anything productive during this limbo period is futile .
Before I left, 3 more miters and one started in just slightly more subdued tones. Couldn't take it along, since that'd reveal the surprise to my parents. In truth, my dad wouldn't notice if you were knitting an atom bomb but my mom'd be all over it, wondering what stitch you'd chosen to convert the plutonium.

I returned to the socks, but not without a complete insurance package.

Funny thing happened on my way to the magic loop. Before I cracked the pamphlet I decided to knit my stitches from the dpns, where I'd knit about an inch of cuff, onto the circs. Predictably by the time I got to the third needle, things were getting tight. I figured I'd pull up some cable to ease it, then I'd figure out what the "magic loop" procedure was all about. Well, duh, that was it. I offered the pamphlet to my mom who was looking on skeptically at the whole operation.

My mom is an ace knitter. She should be, her mom owned a dry goods store in the South Bronx in the 1930's-50's. Grandma gave sidewalk knitting lessons, with neighborhood women perched on milk crates. (and yes, I wish I could go back in time to that). But she doesn't love knitting in the round and hasn't knit socks since she was a teenager.

One quick bike ride to the lys, and look what happened.

my weekend knitting theme song

If I had one, would have featured Mick Jagger and started out " I Can't Get No......"

Half finished home improvement disrupting projects scattered anywhere I set my eyes. Two sons making me crazy with their plans (and lack of interest in mine). Escape into knitting was required. What?
Only two more miters and I realized the mail hadn't brought more yarn. I was flat out, unless I want a square that is all cream colored with maybe 4 rows in mixed colors.

I returned to my Opal Rodeo sock. I was just about up to the toe decreases when I tried it on. I knew it was a little snug, knew I wished the cuff a bit longer...but I didn't know about the big honking hole in the gusset/ankle area. Where did that come from? Upon closer inspection, a tiny dropped stitch, no doubt off the end of one of my traveling dpn toothpicks, had started to run, creating a stinkin' hole.

Three strikes against this sock , out I ripped. This did not make me any happier. Return to the Rodeo is now at about an inch.

Without wasting any more time (ha) I re-read a socks on circs tutorial, still didn't quite get it, took a leap and ordered a long circular needle. I was ordering more Shine Worsted , anyhow.

This last was, admittedly, satifsying: my 15 year old was seen by friends in one of his squoosh hats, and now they asked if I might, please, maybe, could I, if I had time, make them one too. Are there sweeter words? Aside from, can I help clean up the yard, sure I'd love to go to the festival with you and then I'll go study for finals. I didn't for the record, hear those last three phrases this weekend.

I wandered through the homestead looking at the half-mulched front yard (ran out of chips), the living room where I decided to reaarange furniture and talked Dave into helping me get rid of a truly disgusting old sofa, only to realize its replacement wasn't ready yet (frame only), wandered up my my office where I'd stalled reorganizng a shelf last week - what has gotten into me???- didn't even look at the unweeded back gardens. Felt like a lunatic.

Until I finally saw that fat old full moon Saturday night. A-Ha! Ended the weekend on the beach with a beer and my little bit of sock.

Peony, mint & false Indigo bouquet from the yard. Very satisfying!

comments on comments/comments on miters

I have a comment problem. I love getting comments (except from those who want to sell something or enlarge non-existent parts of my anatomy) but there's something about my settings that many come with a "no reply" tag address. I can't Use My Manners and write back to you.

This may give the impression that I'm either incredibly lazy or incredibly rude. In truth I may be a little of both but if I could write back, I would. Sometimes I can sleuth it, channeling my inner Harriet the Spy. Some are just dead end links. So..that said. I apologize. Keep them comments coming.

To answer pressing comments: Kay asked if my sisters would get response time while the afghan collaboration is chronicled. My answer: are you kidding? Uh-unh. They don't even know I have a blog. sshh. Its just a matter of time before one of them hits it while surfing. Anyway. They would only seize it as an opportunity to correct me and reveal how insufferable I am as an older sister. So, in short. no.

Elysbeth (I can only find you here, do you have a blog?) asked to see more of my bag. You betcha. She called it fab and she's right. You can keep your handbags, purses, clutches, baguettes, evening bags. Give me a nice capacious tote anyday. This is one of my favorites, it reverses from vintage floral to a red denim but I almost never flip away from the retro flower side. Credit due, as with most of my nicer accessories, to the tighter miter sister who gifted me with it a couple of years ago. The company makes a lot of bags with retro fabric , go look but I warn you, you'll buy something to carry your summer knitting in.

On to my miters. Layed out randomly.

No one warned me how addictive these are. Once you get to the middle of one, the finish is just minutes away, thanks to quickly diminishing size. Talk about the thrill of victory, they just pop right off the needles. I am also having a hoot with the colors, so inaccurately captured in these photos. Combos that I thought I'd hate, look good. The hues change with proximity. I don't see boredom setting in for a good long while. The main reason I don't have more - aside from a full plate o'work and family demands- is I've almost used up my first order of yarn and am dragging the sticks till the next order gets here. Square eight is on the sticks for me.

Lulu is on her second, I haven't seen 'em but she warned me that they are presently more "homemade than handmade'. This was a major mantra of our mom's when we were growing up, you were always aiming to cross that thin line into handmade. Kind of an outdated saying, as homemade now means you have the luxury of time at home, but it used to be an insult, as in you couldn't afford storebought.

Nevertheless she's saying she's got issues with her miters. As in some have holes. The other two knitters join in when school ends June 18th. I'm not worried. And neither is Lulu. Says she, steely glint in eye "well, I may not do so great with the squares but when it comes to laying the whole thing out, I'll know exactly where to put each one"

my sister has a tighter miter

Prologue: My bright idea. My sisters, my niece and I will make a mitered throw for my parents. Surprise our mom who knits for everyone.
This'll be in the spirit of Mason Dixon Knitting - a collaboration, two of us Yankees,
the other two south of the divide line in the DC area. We ignore history. The last collaboration - a parody song for an anniversary party- unleashed levels of sisterly sniping unseen since we used to share a bathroom and steal each others' clothes. (usually they took mine. For the record..I still want that vintage mexican jacket back).

The rules: We agree there are no rules. We will use the same yarn & pattern. Choose any colors you want. No quota of squares per person. No hard deadline. No telling anyone else that their square is ugly.

The personae: We are all in the visual arts professionally. warning warning! We have Opinions on Things Visual. We grew up knitting but only one of us knits all the time now. One of us used to work as a textile designer/illustrator. One of us is more experimental with materials than all the others. One of us is still in high school and is slightly freaked out by her mom and 2 aunts bickering like 12 year olds.

Scene 1:
My front lawn, late Saturday afternoon. I've already persuaded the sister who doesn't relax enough to watch me garden, take a long bike ride and have a glass of wine .That last one wasn't so difficult, persuasion-wise. We crack the book, take out the freshly arrived yarn. We cast on. We sip wine. Lulu develops some problems. The pattern says size 6 us needles gets gauge, she is using 7's. I am on size 5 because I almost always need to go down a size. A few rows in, Lulu's miters are looking funny. She can barely move the yarn, its squeaking she's got it so tightly pulled. She accuses me of telling her to keep the knitting on the tight side. I, of course, deny. We then have an extended conversation about why its pointless to try to guess gauge when you've only knit 3/4 of an inch. I tell her to measure when she gets to 4" or better yet, consider her first square a swatch and we'll measure when we finish them. She further claims I'm not demonstrating the ssk well.
We sip more wine. We admire the stripes.
she: what color will you do next?
me: ummm, I don't know. I guess I'll see what I'm in the mood for.
she: but , only two colors, right?
me: No, I might use more. Remember, we agreed, no rules on colors?
she: But you will keep the stripes uniform, right? No skinnier?
me: oh, I think some split stripes will look cool
she: No! the pattern says 6 row stripes
me: remember, we all agreed, no rules...
she: (and here's where the conversation starts to devolve )
You know. Saying No Rules is Making a Rule. You are making a rule.
me: (with attitude although I guess she's right on a technicality but you didn't hear me say that ) well. I'm am not promising my stripes will all be the same thickness.

We restrain ourselves from sticking out our tongues. I breathe deeply and contemplate the nature of collaboration and sisterhood.
Any Family Psychology PhD candidates looking for thesis material? Sign on now!

cue that cloying disney song that celebrates our planetary interconnectness

Because I had a comment from Kathy in Juneau. So I check out her new blog Knitting Weather. I like her knitting, I look at her profile and then I realize. I knew her. In real life. From a long time ago, in our hometown on the cloudy shores of Lake Ontario. What a hoot. Go check out her site, I mean, how many knitters in Alaska do you know?
(so, are you humming the song? Is it stuck in your head yet? Did you know there's a name for that?)

On the sock front, pair #2 is coming along ribbingly. I might have 3 bear syndrome with my sock knitting. You know: the first pair was too big, the second too small and then my next will be just right. Let's hope. Anyway I do like how this one looks, and it fits the water bottle well. We'll see how it does on my foot. I've learned a few things about myself . I like heels, they are the entertainment value of the sock, and I really need to learn magic loop because I drop many stitches during transport. Accordingly, I learned it would be a very good idea to have a nice small crochet hook because a big one is as useful as my stubby fingertips in trying catch the drops.

Knitting time is little, its the time of year when things are flying everywhere. Testosterone. oh. my. god. I grew up in an all sisters family. Spring is sprung and the hormones of 12-15 year old boys gush forth in a manner that means all impulse control is gone. I just try to grab the needles, look at the stitches and not think about too much.

identity crisis (or just call me The Little Sock Knitter That Could)

id crisis a: In yarn stores, sometimes the owner says, "hey take a look at the wonnnnderful sock yarns". To which I reply, "oh, they are beautiful but...I'm not a sock knitter".

Scratch that, with a full pair complete. I am a goner. Thanks to the practice on the first, the second has a more polished toe and tighter stitch. Its a better fit but I have to do something about ankle baggage. And! I have the floor and the shoes to go with them. Thanks again Cate. (for the yarn, not the floor & shoes).

id crisis b: I have too much of the Question Authority left in me to think self-patterning yarn a Good Idea. Variegates, oh yes. Noro color changes, love 'em. But self-patterning just seems so... german.Oh look, what's that language on the ball band ? Anyhoo, scratch that, too. All that.Less than 30 rounds in I am LOVING this Opal Rodeo yarn.

id crisis c: I haven't actually been doing much knitting because, like every May, I get my Little Engine That Could head on and decide that this year I really will get the yard under control and do some landscaping. This small mountain was living a half mile away unwanted, so we've moved it here piece by piece and I can be viewed, when its not raining too hard, in my front yard with a pitch fork trying to dig out an area it can edge. These are big ol' heavy New England stones, and though my manly household has helped some, I'm doing the heavy lifting on this project. And I am not speaking figuratively here, sisters. I've been secretly thinking of myself as Rock Chick. I hope she doesn't mind.

sockku

cherry blossoms bloom
memories of poems assigned
compelled write of spring


first handknit sock. look!
much self congratulation
alas: big, baggy

soon to be a pair
winding yarn al fresco is
a special delight

casting on same size,
the extra bowl of ice cream:
knowing bad choices made.

so near a yarn store
a flat tire's stress diminished.
the sea is full of fish.

new leash on life

Before I go totally off-topic, I must report my giddy sock enthusiasm remains full force as I approach the toe, grinning like a fool. I realize its a size too large and it'll be a baggy sock. But that's OK. I like baggy socks.

However, the next pair...any suggestions for a sock pattern that stays up well? I think I want something more than plain ribbing & stockinette. Nothing too challenging,though, like that Pot-a-Whatta-Mus. Don't ask how long I browsed sock patterns online earlier today, OK?

Ok, now to the magic.

Meet Gordo
He is big & hairy & mostly lovable. He is the dog version of a frat boy, always ready for a party. Gordo joined our family about eight years ago from a dog pound, shortly after our dear old dog died. For a while we thought he was just settling in, and its hard to be the replacement model. Over time he's calmed down, and he's smart, with a lovely thick shiny fluff coat and friendly smile. Which is probably what's kept him in our good graces, most of the time. His fatal flaw:he has never, ever, ever - despite daily walks, yelling, sporadic serious training attempts, much upper arm muscle development and wrenched shoulders - walked well on a leash. At 70 pounds of unbridled enthusiasm, he can yank over most adults in a swift lunge. He always wants to be the lead dog, and that gets unpleasant when you are halfway down the street and there, at the other end of the block, is another canine.

No longer. We have been touched by magic. It said "satisfaction guaranteed" and because it was less than $ 10. I thought it worth a try. This product , the Anti-Pull Harness changed my dog owning, skeptical shopping life. Gordo walks like a trained dog. He doesn't act like the new harness bothers him in the least, there wasn't any pain or woofing. This is a dog who would just about strangle himself pulling on a choke collar, huffing and coughing while passersby said helpful things like "heh, heh, who's walking who?".
Magic, I tell ya.