Dear Samus

I've been patient.

I really have. I picked your pattern up off Knitty, and then it sat in my pattern archives. I wanted the time to be right for you and I. I wanted us to have time for ourselves, to really get to know one another. You were the first. I've knit shawls, and socks and hats and mittens and all manner of things for wee small babes and children. But never, never have I knit a cardigan for me. And I picked wool (not orange), and I loved you.

And oh Samus, it was special. I started your lovely cable, and it was so wonderful. I knit and knit on this cable, and then I realized 2 repeats in that I had mis-crossed a cable, and well, there's no going back from that, and I wanted this relationship to stay pure, so I ripped back and started over. And then we watched the second James Bond, and I got a bit distracted, so I started the cable over a second time. And I will admit, I was perhaps a bit tetchy.

And there were some challenges in the cable, including a bit where I randomly repeated rows 13-26 at row 34. No idea what happened there, but I decided that you were like me, slightly flawed. And then the first stirring of dissent in Cardigan land, when I realized that if I completed the number of pattern repeats specified on the cable pattern, you would go around an elephant. We did really stinking hard knitting math. Indeed the math was so hard we did it 3 times, scratching our head (skein) and thinking that couldn’t be right.

Then when we started picking up the stitches, and lo, the math was wrong. Very wrong. But, we ignored the wrongness of it all, and we held on for another 4 inches. Alas, 4 inches and 15,000 stitches did not fix the inherent wrongness of the math, and together, you and I unraveled, slowly, spinning around on my ball winder, weeping silently. And then we re-did the math, and wound up with another number. With the promises of a new beginning in our ears, we started again. And this time, we decided, you and I, that you would be happy and fulfilled with waist shaping. And lo, we researched and we did the waist shaping. And lo, the math was wrong a second time.

And so we re-did it a 3 time. Perhaps at the 3rd time there were harsh words. Perhaps I suggested you weren’t pulling your weight in this relationship, and maybe I did call you stupider than a barn yard full of turkeys, and yes I’ll confess, I even threw you on to the couch and stomped off. And when I came back and the cat was sleeping on you, I threw a look and possibly I said “serves you right”.

But, dear Samus, all relationships take patience. And I picked you up and lint rollered you off, and ripped back for the 3rd time. And lo, this time the math was right. And I started knitting. And truly, around about 10 inches, I started getting nervous, looking at the wool hanging off my needles, and the skeins left in the cupboard, and lo, I ordered more.

And the wool, it arrived with my knitpicks order, and oh, all right, it looked a bit funny. When I held it up to you, the wool on the new skein didn’t feel as soft and it had more twist, and maybe the colour was a bit off, but really, who can tell that, it’s a heathered wool. I decided that you were a resilient sweater Samus, and you could take this change.

And last night, I finished your left front. What, with the random math to make the decreases work at my gauge. And you looked good. I put you down last night, and I caressed you, and I pictured you and I watching the Sea Lions and eating crab in SFO. I pictured you meeting Martha in Vegas. I was excited. Things were on a new track for you and I. This was the start of a beautiful thing, Samus.

And then today, still in this wonderful feeling of euphoria, I pulled you out. And that extra wool, that extra wool that was Telemark and not Wool of the Andes? It’s nowhere near the same colour. Not at all.

And in the harsh light of this morning, this doesn’t work. In the harsh light of this morning, I am going to rip out 15 inches of work, and I’m going to have buy new wool, and dear Samus,

I have to tell you,

You’re moving into the closet for a bit.

Hey Teach is calling my name.

It's not me, it's you.

We'll Call This One . . . .

I'm not a moron. No, really, I'm not.

I have a university degree, with economics. Which can be really freaking hard. Really hard. I regularly read Canada Revenue Agency Interpretation Bulletins, and I have spent the better part of a month reading the FINTRAC guidelines, which do not provide much in the way of guidance. (The CRA Bulletins don't interpret much either).

All of this in spite of the fact I can't count to 11, and I can't do really basic math, even with a gauge calculator.

But, I'm not a moron.

Nope. Not me.

It's just that it was late on Wednesday night, and I really wanted to bring my sweater to knit at the Knitting Philosophy Club, and I was doing the gauge swatches, and they absolutely weren't working, and I had tried 3 different needles, so I had to pull up my gauge calculator, and well, I did something really wrong.

Non Knitting Explanation: Gauge means the number of stitches you get per inch. If you are getting more stitches per inch, than you should, and you don't increase the number of stitches you are knitting with, your sweater will be too small. Similarly, if you are getting fewer stitches per inch than you should, and you don't decrease the number of stitches you are working with, your item will be too big. Either way, get it wrong and you'll find yourself looking for a chilly elephant, or a cold barbie that needs covering up.

So, when my tired brain tried to tell me, several times, on Wednesday night, and then again on Thursday at lunch that there was something wrong, because I was knitting more stitches per inch than I should be (remember, that makes your work smaller, not larger) and I had cast on fewer stitches to begin with, as I knew my gauge was wrong, well, I really should have listened.

Because 2 wrongs don't make a right.

They do require you to rip out 10 inches of knitting. Or, to put it in a more painful way, around about 17, 000 stitches.

$187 CAD

Canada Day Stash. Don't look at me like that. It was on sale. On Sale. At it's for already established projects. (well, mostly, except for the stuff that isn't. Why do you have to be like this anyway?)

Toby doesn't care about the stash either.

Ravelry

I'm fully "on" Ravelry. I have catalogued my stash, I have a list of my wip's, and I have photo's. See all the photo's of stash organizing? (There are no photo's of stash organizing, blogger kept breaking every time I tried to load them. Which is probably just as well. Those of my dear readers that don't knit, wouldn't understand. Neither, for that matter, would Mr. Spit)

It's just,

I have no friends on Ravelry.

If you are on Ravelry, would you please be my friend? Pretty Please?

I'm MrsSpit

(I could give you some lovely 100% acrylic wool . . .)

Ahem

I believe,

yes, indeedy I do,

that we can call this done.

Done like dinner.

Doner than done.

Finito!

Ok, except maybe for the blocking, but there's no need to talk about that, is there?

This Post brought to you by . . .

Expocrete - as Mr. Spit and I try to decide what stones to use in our front walk way, and how to do rounded stairs.

Twizzlers' black licorice.

Cherry Nibs

and the scarf from hell (which may look familiar, it was started in another colour - a lovely green, and I ran out of that wool before the scarf was done and could not buy more, and so now I am re-knitting it in another colour and the whole project is decidedly unpleasant, and I refuse to allow myself to cast on or even knit on anything other than this, as it is for my mother's birthday, which is in, oh, 12 days, and I must have it done, because giving my mother something that is only half knit is not an option. Not at all.)

Grok* the Sock

Look, when the Yarn Harlot says that you can't do something, you just can't. It is not possible. She's that knowledgeable, and yes, she's that good. Also, I like to think I am a smart person. When an intelligent, witty, kind and experienced woman tells me that knitting does not do X, I don't try it. Learn from the lessons of others, you can't live long enough.

On Sunday morning, the Philosophical Knitter and I were preparing to learn about sock knitting. I'm quite enthused. I am working on my first pair of toe-up socks, and I'm hating them. (Non-Knitting translation: you can start a sock at the cuff or at the toes.) And I'm grooving, because my idol is saying that she thinks that toe-up socks are just dumb, because among other things:

"You cannot knit a heel flap with short rows on a toe-up sock".

My eyes travel to the sock I am, at this very instant - this exact instant - knitting. In her class. This toe-up sock.

And, um, more or less, it has a heel flap. Modified. But there was a flap, and then I turned the heel, and then I picked up the stitches along the side of the flap and I knit them, and then decreased, and that gave me a gusset, and yep, this is a heel flap. There are only 2 kinds of heels in hand knitted sock, and I'll be honest, I don't even know how to do the other kind. This *is* a heel flap.

Ummm. Ahhhhh.

And I look at PK, and sure enough, she has the same heel. I know she has the same heel, because neither of us really used a pattern for our socks, and we had a discussion at lunch, and we decided on a heel flap. And in fact, we knit a heel flap. Indeed, when the time came to do the first one, I was in Emergency with Mr. Spit, and I had no Internet, no pattern book, no nothing. I couldn't even use my phone (and while I'm mentioning it, does any one find it odd that my $20 cell phone will wreck multi-million dollar equipment?).

So, I turned the heel. I sat and looked at it, figured out a plan, arsed it up 3 or 4 times, and then just finally dug in and knit the darn thing. And you know what? It worked. Really, it did. As you can see, it looked like a heel! It had short rows, and a gusset. It's a heel man, and I assure you, I started at the toes.

So, now I have this sock, and friends, this sock should not exist. There is a possibility that this sock is bending the time-space continuum, and it is also possibly responsible for every strange thing that Micheal Jackson has ever done. This sock is a problem. And it is sitting, plainly existing, in spite of the impossibility of the situation: a toe-up sock, with a heel flap.

Umm, Erm, toe-up sock with heel flap?!

I start knitting my freak-show sock under the table.

I'm not sure what to do. Do I rip it out? Bury it in my back yard in the dark of night and never, ever speak of it again? Holy yarn, help me. Woolly nylon, this is bad. Cheap acrylic bad. Getting to the end of a 300 stitch lace pattern, out one stitch, bad. Very bad.

I keep listening to the class, learning lots, but honest to wool, my world has been rocked. Finally at the end of the class, I put my hand up, very gingerly. I don't want to ask this question out loud. I want her to come over, so I can very quietly say:

"Umm, Stephanie, I have this toe-up sock, see this one right here and it's really a toe-up sock, and it's really got a heel flap, and yes the gusset goes up the leg and not down the foot, and I made the flap smaller and picked up fewer stitches, but really it's a heel flap and I knitted it on toe-up socks and oh, please for the love of wool, tell me I haven't broken knitting, and you aren't going to take my needles away from me, and strangle me with acrylic, and I'm really sorry, but you see I just didn't know that you couldn't do it, so, well, I did it, and I'm really sorry, and if you can't have a heel flap heel in a toe-up sock, tell me what I've done. Please?"

The Harlot says it's ok.

It's the same style as an absolutely brilliant designer named Cookie A came up with in 2006. It's called Baudelaire. And if I broke knitting, she broke it first. Also, she is teaching at the Sock Summit, so I don't think she broke knitting.

Phew.

*******
It's from Robert Heinlen's Stranger in a Strange Land. No, I didn't get the reference either.

Ahem

Going to a Monastery to see a Harlot.

Back on Monday.

Have a great weekend.

Things I Thought I'd Blog About

Sigh. All evening I tell you. I kept thinking. Must not be sitting here knitting, must be thinking of something to write for the blog. Also, must vacuum, but let's move on.

I was going to write a post on etiquette and theatres, and etiquette and funerals, but, umm, not done that yet.

I was going to take photo's and tell you about the 3.5 pairs of socks that I have knit in the last 4 months, but I can't take pictures. The red ones are in the wash, the STR Thistle one's are a bit of a problem, because I know where one of them is - right behind my computer, but, umm, I can't find the other one? And I hyperventilate when I think about the possibility that I have lost them? So I try not to?

The STR Puck's Mischief socks are about 70% done, although I'm not all that jazzed about toe up socks, since grafting the toes together has never been that much of an issue for me.

Oh, and the self-striping ones have terrible holes, which means I have totally arsed them up, and I have not a single idea of how to fix them, other than totally ripping them apart and re-knitting them. I am trying not to think about that much either.

How about we compromise on this. . .

My mum's birthday scarf.












You lot sure are hard to please. . . .

(Also, many thanks for your suggestions. I'm ordering my chairs from a company called the Calgary Chair Company - thanks Carmen- that is, oddly enough, located in Calgary!)

Friday's are for finished projects

Mr. Spit's hat. The fair aisle pattern is from my book of traditional fair aisle patterns. The hat pattern is of my own devising. Louet wool. (Riverstone Chunky, in Cream, Cariboo and Sandalwood)

More detail of the fair aisle patterning.

MIL knee warmer (don't ask, she asked, I knit it). I can't imagine why someone would want a pattern of this. The cheapest grey acrylic that my stash had to offer up.

Sweater for local toddler out of wool his mum spun from his nanna's sheep. Sort of modified from sweater in Men in Knits, using measurements from Ann Budd's amazing book of knitting patterns

JamieD, did you think I was kidding? A hat for your wee one.

Debbie Bliss Cashmere. My own pattern.

Mr. Spit's New Hat

This is a picture of Mr. Spit's new hat. It's really nice huh?

This is Mr. Spit wearing his new hat. Yes, the fair aisle work is lovely, and I do really like those colours. I'm very pleased with how it's turning out.

This is a picture of the scarf I'm knitting to go with it. I think 4 inches is long enough, right? No, ok. I'll keep knitting. No, I didn't want to do fair aisle on the scarf, so I'm just knitting all the colours together. It gives a nice variegation. I'll do a bit with the dark brown and the light brown, and then the white and the dark brown. Kind of like stripes, but not really.

Yes, they look very attractive.
What, you can't see the pictures?

Oh, yes. My camera was stolen, and Mr. Spit's work camera is at, well, work. Sigh. Pictures later. And if you are my insurance person, hello, I'm still waiting for you to call me, fax me, email me, send a carrier pigeon, knock on the door (don't ring the bell, ok?). Something. Please?

I'm sorry for the short post.

The weekend was enormous fun.

I will post pictures of the $700 swatch, tell you the story of my water bottle on the tray, and illustrate how not all knitters are good knitters. I will talk about how the reindeer pulling Santa's sled have rain poncho's for each night.

I only brought knitting for me (for all of my projects, I have exactly one thing that I knitted. Everything else I have given away. It is my first pair of socks. Sufficed to say, I have learned lots since then.) There is a shawl that I started, and a pair of socks in purple and lime green, and a scarf that I carried all the way there, and back, and didn't start, but there are 6 more tiny hats for wee ones born still. And many knitters that have heard about our precious children, and how much we love them.

There were fiber purchases, knitting in front of the fireplaces, dessert every night, and smoked salmon on good cream cheese, with capers, on rye bread every morning. There was in fact, every good kind of food, and a spectacular room mate, who did not make fun of me for being odd.

The train trip was spectacular, and somehow 50 knitters restrained themselves from shearing all the Dall sheep we passed. (It was hard, we persevered). There was a paper bathing suit, and a photo of a woman in the paper bathing suit, who should not look that good in a paper bathing suit. In fact there is no one that should look that good in a paper swim suit.

Oh, and there was Ashley. I will also tell you the story of Ashley.

So, photo's and stories tomorrow. For tonight there is a husband who was so happy to see me, he bought me a food processor, (which is more romantic than you are thinking) - there are cats and dogs to pet and love, and a bed with my name on it.

I thought of you all, even though I had no Internet. I'm slowly catching up on your blogs, be patient with me.

Erm. . . .

So, the posts are pre-set to run over the next few days, as I will be off to Jasper, to knit and drink wine and generally enjoy myself. I'm at a knitting retreat with a friend.

I thought you might be interested in my to do list.

I will attempt to update it through the day.

1. Wake up (I'm not expecting this to be a problem. . .)
2. Paint Sewing Room - 1st and 2nd coats of second colour. Decide if roller is the problem, or if it is paint. Be cross either way, that the paint is not going on smoothly.
3. Go and buy PJ's for sake of roommate's sensibility on knitting retreat. (I do wear night shirts, but, believe in, ahem, airing things out. So, because I like Kuri, and I want her to stay friends with me. . . )
4. Dig up carrots. Finally. Also, consider the problem of the fridge again.
5. Remove evidence of dead mums, possibly by burying them in the compost heap.
6. Determine if the knitting classes have homework. Do homework if required. Also, figure out where I have to be when, so that I can actually catch the train on time.
7. Pack knitting projects, also, clean underpinnings. (Honestly, the knitting is more important than the clean underpinnings. Underpinnings can be swished out and hung over the shower rod to dry. Knitting on the other hand, must be brought)
8. Think about what sorts of things Mr. Spit could cook while gone. Possibly purchase something for him. Also, remind him, that he might be feeding his Mother in Law's cat.
9. Find pumpkins for front door.
10. Mail things to Alicia and Jen and Martha.

Finally, as they walk through a valley, would you keep Jenell and Rob and their wee twins in your heart? She's one of ours, and could use all the love they can get.

Today was going to be . . .

Finished project Friday.

No, not Becky's baby sweater, I'm not that fast. Not even close to that fast. I haven't even wound the skeins. I haven't even figured out the basics of what gauge I'm knitting at, and what gauge the baby sweater purports to be knitting at, and how to make my gauge equal that gauge, so I get a sweater suitable for a baby, not an elephant that happens to be cold and likes pink.

And when I figure that I out, I have to decide whether I need to to do it for Antigone first, because I think she is likely to come first at this whole having a baby thing, because she got started earlier (But if you would both speak up in the comments about relative dates, that would be absolutely brilliant.)

No, actually I finished socks for a birthday present, for a stand up, bang up friend, who kindly has sent me a birthday present last month, even though hers was exactly 6 months before mine, and she would have been quite justified in sending me my birthday present somewhere around her next birthday, because hers is well over 6 months late. And instead, she sent me a lovely candle and a bunch of truffles and she did not include a reminder that her birthday present consisted (at that time) one entire sock, and a sock to the heel for the other foot. Nor did she remind me that she, rather like most humans, has two feet, and would find it most useful to have two socks.

So, I finished them up earlier today, and they are all done, with the ends woven in, and ready to go, but I must confess, I feel like hell today, and possibly tomorrow, and I'm not sure where the camera is, and I feel crappy, and whiny, so pictures tomorrow, which means, Banana - your socks will be in the mail on Monday. Oh and Alicia, your scarf too. I still have to weave the ends in.

I really am that sad and pathetic these days. I'm sick. . . .

Now, I'm going back to bed.

(And on the subject of stand up, bang up women - could we all bow to the Amazing Martha, who blessedly sent chocolate and pet treats. I saved it to share with Mr. Spit (well, mostly). Did you all know that chocolates are called candy in the US? When ever I read books and the hero bought candy to the heroine, I always imagined some sort of bucket of hard candies, and I thought this was a bit odd, but anyway. So, I opened up the box of See's candy and they were the most amazing chocolates in the universe. I am sorry that Mr. Spit won't get to share them. But there's lots of other stuff)

Mum Didn't Raise an Idiot

The words lipstick on a pig have been bandied about a lot lately. . . .

Anyway.

The scene:

My kitchen table. My mum is over for coffee. I'm still knitting a mitten for my parish priest's new wee one (3 hours per mitten, times 4 mittens = are we done knitting mittens yet?)

She looks at me over her coffee. "What are you knitting X and Y for their baby?"

Me: Trying to manipulate 3 skeins of yarn (fair isle knitting) and 4 double pointed needles. "Nope"

Mother: "Pardon?"

Me: Looking perhaps, a tiny bit exasperated, wondering what round I'm on.

"Nothing. I'm not knitting anything"

Mother: "Oh, is it because of *insert long, drawn out drama here, that is totally a waste of time*. Because you've knit for all the other children."

Me: Ripping back. The row was supposed to be green, not blue. "I'm not knitting for them. I'll pick up something from somewhere. Probably diapers or something."

Mother: "Why?"

And I put my knitting down on the kitchen table. I looked over my glasses (progressives, we can likely blame really tiny lace knitting for this.) And I thought.

I thought about why I'm not knitting for this baby. It's not that I'm not glad they are having another baby. It's not the whole dead baby thing, I've knit for other babies since Gabriel. It's not the present long, drawn out drama and their unkindness.

"You didn't raise an idiot."

The very first blanket (I wrote about it here) I knit for these parents, I ran across it a year ago. Thrown in a corner, covered in dirt. The mother looked at me, as I went to go and rescue 150 hours of my time, and said that it was nice to have a spare blanket at the cabin.

Now, let me let you into a secret about knitting for babies. They do unspeakable things to hand knits. Truly. And I am a knitter who has been known to knit a baby a sweater made of a cashmere-merino blend. I don't expect projects for children to live behind glass. Nothing, nothing gives me greater joy than to see people wear things I've knit for them. And when unspeakable bodily fluids wind up on $80 worth of cashmerino? Oh well.

And this blanket? It was my first big project. And folks, let me tell you, there's a reason I'm nice to people about their first big project. I think I had knit a few dish clothes and a scarf before this blanket. The dishcloths have long since been shredded, and, well, the scarf has never seen the light of day. The blanket was ok.

I looked at it that day, and noted that my tension is much more even, I have fewer dropped stitches, I have become much more proficient in my craft.

But, that didn't change anything. This blanket was knit out of heartbreak and sorrow, and a wish to send joy. And, to put it mildly, it didn't seem to be very valued.

I learned something that day.

My time, my craft, they are worth something. I am not "just a knitter". The time, the cost, the quest for perfection that I put into gift's for others, they are worth something. My gift, it is one of love, and it's worth something. 150 hours, it's worth something.

I am putting down my foot. (or possibly my size 16 knitting needle).

I'm not knitting for those who don't appreciate it.

Mum didn't raise an idiot.

Would you Help a Knitter Out?

So, I have this

















And this.






And all of this is to be a hat/mittens/scarf set for twins. Well, two sets actually. (You know, one for each twin). My parish priest just happens to be adopting two twin boys from Haiti. They are coming in October. I'm knitting, and then going out to buy snowsuits for them. They should be between the ages of 2-3. At least their pictures look about that. They are very cute. Very.

Anyway, the scarf is going along swimmingly (except for the usual scarf angst - am I done yet? Surely a 6 inch scarf will work for a 2-ish year old. No? Humph)

Anyway, the plan is to knit the scarf first, because I can use that to swatch gauge, (take that knitting fates!) and really how hard is knitting a scarf. Knit. Keep knitting. Throw some pattern stuff in. Repeat the pattern stuff on the other side of the scarf, in the same order. (I will confess to having a bit of trouble with the same order thing in the past. But, I have resolved to do better!)

The problem is the hat and the mittens. I'm not sure of the dimensions of children's heads and hands. I have no idea what dimensions might comprise these particular children, and I have noticed that there is a particular dearth of toddlers around Chez Spit. I checked most closely. Even the basement. No children. None. Most inconvenient when you are trying to measure.

I have carefully consulted the internet and the dogs. The internet and the dogs were of utterly no assistance. (But the dogs would like you to know that they still have not been fed, and the cat is looking tasty)

They all suggested I ask the blog.

So:

If you have a child, of between 2 and 3 years of age that just happens to be lurking in your house and consuming your groceries and generally being present (In, I don't know, the spare cupboard under the stairs?) Would you mind checking to see if they have a head and at least one hand in reasonably good repair?

If so, would you ever mind hauling them out and running a measuring tape around their head, about where a hat brim would usually sit?

And would you ever mind grabbing their hand (my experience suggests that it might be a good idea to wash said hand first.) and measuring around their wrist, about where their watch band would go (if they have one. Feel free to guess if not. No actual watch band is required for this), and then from the wrist to the end of their longest finger? (Generally this is the middle finger, but we are all about not judging here at Mrs. Spit's.)

And then, would you ever mind writing those measurements down and leaving them in the comments section?

The children who have to wear these garments this winter, in a facsimile of reasonable fit, and I, both thank you.

The dogs; however, do not. They are still stuck on this whole food thing, and you have failed to feed them. They are picky like that.

Domknitrix Knitting

At some point you reach the end of a project. Especially with lace like things, you are left with a misshapen, lumpy thing. Looking like something that a particularly large flamingo exhumed, there is a need to block knitting, to illustrate to it, firmly, what sort of a shape you intended it to be, before the willy-nilly decreases. (It's for a friend. She doesn't know she's getting it. Don't tell her.)

There are no photo's of the washing. You will have to rest assured it happened. The camera is expensive, and it does not inspire matrimonial concord when you drop it into the sink. . . .

The beginning of the drying process. It's high tech. You can see a corner of the Very Big, Very Fuzzy, Very Pink Thing (VBVFVPT). There is a mastiff hanging over the chair, wondering if this process will involve food.





See, I told you the drying process was high tech. . . .






And in order to block something, you need a flat surface . . . . It will be just like sleeping next to Mr. Spit. Except that he's not pink or cold and clammy. . . . It does expand to take all the available space on that side of the bed, much like Mr. Spit (No photo of Maggie, looking very concerned about where she was going to sleep tonight)


Everything prepared for blocking. Thanks to Kuri for the loan of the wires. I meant to count the pins, you know to make sure I got them all back. Nothing says I love you and welcome home like being stabbed in the nether regions by a stick pin.





See those funny looking scallops. This is why we are blocking the VBVFVPT. Blocking hides a multitude of sins. It's a knitter's best friend.





All laid out. Getting suspiciously close to the side of the bed designated as mine. Still looking distressingly lumpy. I also discovered a dropped stitch. Remind me to fix it, would you?

With wires. Note, no scallops. . .







The second part of the high tech drying process. . . .

I'll sleep, it will dry.



Will post pictures of it when done. Really, all you need to know- it's very pink, very fuzzy, very large. Knit on needles roughly the size of lamp posts. It was hard to go back to the size one's for Anna's socks.

So tell me, any guesses on what it is?

The Kindest Compliment

The very kindest compliment that can be paid to a knitter is to:
a) Wear the stuff they knit.
b) Be thankful.

Accordingly, Heather, the winner of Whinge-For-All-Thursday has written a very lovely post about my hat.

Verily, it makes this knitter's heart swell with joy. (My heart is possibly almost normal sized now!)

Thanks Heather, you made my day!

And everyone, go tell Heather how fabulous she looks. . . .
http://bubblesnducks.blogspot.com/2008/07/i-tip-my-hat.html

Dear Knitting Fates

A moment of your time, if you please.

I would like you to know - I am a nice person. I eat my vegetables, weed my flower beds, keep a clean-ish house, am nice to my mother, pay my bills on time (mostly) and volunteer. Really, truly, I'm nice. People even like me.

I started this shawl in plenty of time. I really did. I had 32 weeks. Well, 30 by the time you figured in shipping. I bought good quality wool. Even if it is like knitting with dental floss. And the mum? She is eminently deserving. According to all the things that govern the knitting world, this project should have worked extremely well.

I tried not to take it personally, when I couldn't make the Yarn Harlot's shawl pattern work for me. Honest. I reminded myself that Stephanie Pearl-McPhee is a darn talented knitter. (Steeks!) She can do thing's that I can only dream of, truly. Yea, I bow at her feet, I do. I forgave my inability to count to 5 (or was it 8?)

I did not cry, when in the middle of a lace knitting class, my shawl turned into a snarly, knotty mess, and I had no idea where I was, in spite of stitch markers and post-it notes and highlighting. I accepted that this shawl was not destined to be mine to knit. (Although, I would like you to know, dear Fate, the knitting store women had thought I was an intelligent person, up to this point.). And Steph, I'm really sorry for the things I might have said about your pattern. Honest. Come to Edmonton, and I'll buy you a beer. Or, a lot of beer.

Indeed, I accepted that I should pick another pattern. And when that pattern didn't work out, I picked a 3rd pattern. And that didn't work out (apparently, counting to three is also a problem), and my size 5 knitting needle ran away from me, and I accepted that I was going to have to do something, because the mum, she wasn't getting any less pregnant.

Now, you listen to me, Knitting Fates. I have purchased a pattern. The pattern is not hard. I have purchased $16 knitting needles from Addi. I mean it knitting fates. This time, the shawl will work. I have hit the wall. The mother is really quite pregnant. I am running out of time. She is running out of time. And I am starting to take this VERY personally.

I am going to have a nap. And then, I am going to start this shawl/blanket/wrap. And it is going to work to wrap this wee babe in. I will knit from now until the end of the weekend. I will do nothing but knit. I will not be deterred. I will eat such food as I can scavenge from my pantry without cooking. I will watch bad television show re-runs. I mean it knitting fates, this time, I mean business.

DO YOU HEAR ME?
I'VE HAD IT.
THIS TIME IT WILL WORK!!!!!
I WILL WIN.

(Now, dear readers, if you'll forgive me, I probably won't post much this weekend. Either the shawl/wrap/blanket will work, or I will have killed myself with $16 knitting needles)

Finished Project Friday

Ahh, finished the first Cara baby sweater. It's been to class, to lunch, to appointments, to the low altar of caffeine. Finally all done, including the seaming up. Dropping it off for the baby tomorrow.

(For the knitters, it's Bristol Gallery - 45% alpaca, 45% merino and 10% cashmere. Yes, it was heavenly to knit. Didn't halo as bad as you might think - bought it from WEBS for about $4 a skein - used 5 and a teeny bit skeins.)



Based on this lady's adaptation of a Cardigan for Arwen. Chopped down and tinkered with, because I am hopeless at just following a pattern. I have to add something. Its a thing with me. Some nice detailing of the cable. Held closed with toggles. Quite like the toggles. Adds to the hobbit-ish touch of the sweater.











And then there's hats. To fit micro preemies. I'll work on the blankets to match, this weekend. (Knit in Debbie Bliss Cashmerino. Again, heaven on earth to work with.) And I think I have found at least one more person to knit them. I think I'll do concentric hearts, or butterflies for the blankets. Any thoughts?

By in large, I only knit in natural fibre's. I know it's expensive, and babies do all manner of revolting things to them (Adults too!). And yes, it has broken my heart when I have seen items treated badly. Want to get a group of knitters going? Get them to talk about the things we've spent hours on, and then seen abused. Stories to break your heart.


What about you? What's the worst thing you've ever had done with a gift you've given?