The Importance of Reading

I've started a sweater. It's top down, so once the yoke increases are done it feels like the rows are four miles long. Still, it's been going fairly well. Monday night I told myself how fantastic I was when the stitch count shockingly turned out just as it was supposed to. I spread it out, admiring it.

I started the next row of the chart and thought, "Huh. I'm surprised they have a foop* at the beginning of this pattern and not at the end." Immediately, the blood rushed to my head and I scrambled for the pattern.  

The chart has eight rows.

The directions CLEARLY say, "Cont to work in patt est’d until 18 total rows of Deep Waffle Stitch have been worked, ending with a WS row."

Let's review the math.

8 + 8 = 16

16 does not equal 18.

I'd read 18 and then told myself that 18 rows was two repeats of the chart. It clearly was not.

 Talamh cardigan knit in Blue Moon Fiber Arts' 

BFL sport in The New Color of Love

Someone is going to argue that nobody can tell if the foop is there or not. (You certainly can't from this picture.) I understand the argument. However, I'm too close to the beginning of this thing to pretend this doesn't bother me and carry on. The sweater went into time out. I'll rip it back when it hurts less.

Fine. No sweater. I'll start a sock. A boring, ribbed sock.  There's no need to even look at a pattern.

This worked really well when I was swapping out a hard drive and rebuilding a computer yesterday.  I have learned that computers have a sick sense of humor. They will pretend to install something that takes half an hour, but as soon as you walk away they will put up a message box that needs clicked before it will do anything else, such as, "Is your language still English?"  Of course it's still English! I told you that thirty seconds ago! Why are you asking me again?

It's asking me again because it wants to make sure I am held captive by its foolish questions.

I have no idea how IT people manage to remain calm without knitting. Now that I am on to the evil ways of the computer, I sit patiently in front of it knitting a sock while it randomly stops installing and asks me mundane questions to which it already knows the answers.

So, the sock was great for time spent in front of the computer, but it was too boring to knit on last night. I was feeling restless.

You know what's not too boring? The Garden Gate socks. They are intense. You have to pay attention. They're slow.

Garden Gate socks knit in Dream in Color Smooshy in Wisteria colorway

I was feeling pretty good about the start of them. After a few rows of the leg chart, I decided to reread the key just to make sure I was knitting everything correctly. At the bottom of the page, it's clearly written, "Repeat these rounds 3 more times and then work round 1 once more continuing on to the leg."

I hadn't repeated them. This means I basically have no cuff and my socks may fall down.

Another rip.

Remember pet rocks? Maybe I'll take up painting those for a hobby.

*Technical term**

**Not really.

Hang This

Andrew and I have been searching for a coatrack. Our entryway isn't large enough to have a coat tree, so we had to get something that would hang on the wall.

We found the perfect coatrack on etsy.

I started with this

was carefully supervised by this

 and this

measured and taped

and ended up with this.

I'm thrilled with it. Perhaps now we'll stop hanging our coats on the dining room chairs.

Random With Purpose

I knit a lot of socks. Since sock yarn typically comes with enough yarn to knit socks for feet bigger than mine, I have leftovers.

Lots of leftovers.

I've done several projects in an effort to try to decrease the alarming amount of leftover soft yarn I have.

I've made clock cozies:

I've made Frankenscrap Jays:

I've made Franken-Knucks:

While great projects, they have done little to decrease the amount of yarn I have. Then I found the Mini Mania Scarf. It's a linen-stitch scarf made entirely of scrap yarn. It's knit lengthwise, which meant each 500 stitch row took around 20 minutes to knit. Surely that would put a dent in the yarn stash.

The scarf is glorious. However, I realized when I was only a few hours into the project that the scarf made me feel uncomfortable.

Sort of itchy and twitchy.

Its gloriousness stems from its randomness and yet I can't handle the randomness. I realized this may be the reason I've knit two clock cozies as gifts and not knit one for myself, despite my deep and profound love for them.  The socks and knucks were also given away.

All these projects are really, really lovely and yet I don't like them.

I felt like a freak for about four seconds. Then I realized that it's okay to be someone who doesn't like randomness. I like a plan. I like a plan even better if it can be color-coded. When I planned the garden for this year--a pretty simple endeavor, really--, I used four different markers and a letter code. As a kid, one of my favorite pasttimes was dumping out my 64 box of crayons and putting them back sorted by color.

This love of order is an excellent trait in nearly all areas of my life. If it means I have to give some of my knitting away--to people who really love the randomness of scrap yarn projects, might I add--then that's fine.

It is a pretty scarf...

...for someone else.

Dear Nature,

I believe that a healthy relationship is based on honesty. In the spirit of that, I want to recap what I promised you last year.

I promise...

I will accept that squash can't be grown in my tiny space, and I won't plant any.

I will accept that I can't grow enough soybeans to make it worthwhile.  I will buy bags of frozen edamame and be grateful that other people grow acres and acres of soybeans.

I will be honest about how many tomato plants I need and not get sucked into the descriptions in the seed catalogue.

I will keep track of the pepper varieties so I will know when they are ripe--green? yellow? red?

I will accept that I can't grow hellebores, even though I love them and that fact fills me with sadness. (Why can't I grow hellebores? Everyone else can grow them.)

I will either plant sunflowers where they have a shot at growing instead of scattering seed and hoping for the best or I won't plant them at all.

I will be honest with myself that I get carried away planting vegetables and then don't harvest and eat them all. I will plant only what I am sure I will eat, even if that means I fill my garden with flowers.

When the Burpee catalogue arrived in January, my willpower wavered. I know it's the same every spring, but I believe I can do better.

I'll put the squash in the yard behind the gardening space, and it can take over all it wants. I'll keep it away from the trellis so it doesn't encroach on the other veggies. I'll borrow a rotor tiller and make a nice spot for sunflowers. I'll document the peppers with more than just their name so I know when to harvest and how hot they'll be. I'll eat more vegetables!

But I might as well plant some soybeans since I already have the seeds. And since some of my tomato seeds haven't done well for two years now, it only makes sense to try some new varieties.  And since the squash won't be vying for space, I have enough room in the garden to try some new-to-me determinate tomato varieties.

The good news is that I haven't bought another hellebore... yet.

Baby UGGs

A friend asked me to knit a pair of these for her to give some new parents.  I've made three pair of these and one matching hat thus far.  They're fast--I had them done in one day. The "suede" (read: nylon) yarn has the tendency to split when stabbed by a needle, which happened pretty frequently. I wouldn't want to use this yarn for a sweater but it's fine for small projects like this.

Suede Baby Booties knit in Berrocco Suede in 3729 (black) 

and 3792 (pink) and Plymouth Yarn Oh My! (white)

The pattern was on a Knitty Gritty episode back in 2004. That's pre-knitting for me, and I've never seen it. The pattern for the booties and hat can be found here: http://www.knitandcrochetnow.com/fly.aspx?layout=patternsindex&taxid=163. (Search the page for "suede" to make it easier.)

Moral Force

Knitty's blog directed my attention to an article from The Guardian's archives, originally published on Feb. 10, 1962.


I was especially taken by this quote:

The urge to knit is surely the most moral force in the world. Knitting is industrious, economical, virtuous, therapeutic, mildly creative and above all tranquillising. Research would show that knitting wives never become nervous wrecks and that it is never knitting girls who break up happy homes. Conversely it would be found that the Other Woman never knits.

I take offense to "mildly creative," but it's nice to have proof that knitters never become nervous wrecks and nonknitters are hussies. Isn't that what we've always suspected?

I Could Get Used To This

Let me again say how grateful I am that Andrew likes color. He does not ask me to knit miles of gray stockinette, and for that I rejoice.

When we made our road trip to Simply Socks, Andrew picked out yarn for future socks. He especially liked Zauberball Starke 6, a sportweight sock yarn with really odd and delightful color repeats.  

Generic sock recipe on 56 stitches 

knit in Zauberball Starke 6 in colorway 1537

Did I also mention how grateful I am that Andrew doesn't need his socks to match?

Andrew likes his socks tight, so I did a 3-1 rib all the way down the leg and the top of the foot. I can't explain why they were finished so quickly. Some of it must be that I was entertained by the colors and kept knitting to see what would happen next. It's also true that 56 stitch rounds instead of 64 or 72 zip right along.

I have no problem knitting more of these... which is good since Andrew bought three balls of the stuff.