This blog thing is the best. Not only do I spend way less time boring my non-knitting friends with knitting blather ('cause I can bore the entire internet, see), but there's all kinds of validation to be found.
Take Teep for example. Pattern-averse, half-assed swatcher, not the world's fastest knitter, and funny as hell: "I'm not using a pattern except as something I can hold my knitting up in front of and say things like, "La La La, I can't *hear* you!". Awesome.
In my own knitting news, I was couch-ridden with a wicked chest cold today (hear that, boyfriend? And yes, I Blame You). Minimal sock knitting was accomplished in between the horking phlegm and the chills and the sweating.
More importantly, I picked up an exciting new knitting skill. Well mostly a frogging skill, which given how much time I spend frogging things is probably more important than new knitting skills. I used to just pulled out the needles, rip back the stitches to where I made the mistake and then spend ages picking up each stitch individually. This was infuriating.
Turns out you can pick up the stitches before the mistake, then pull out the needles, rip out the work to where you've picked up the stitches and not spend hours fiddling with stupid, splitty yarn.
I ripped out the whole heel flap and puckered gusset and spent less than two minutes getting the stitches back on the needles.
It's like magic. If magic were self-evident, logical and clearly illustrated with helpful pictures in an introductory knitting book.
October 9, 2006
October 8, 2006
Dispatches from the very good goat department
Our trip to the Topsfield Fair began inauspiciously, with bad traffic at the Topsfield exit.
The traffic jam did give us an opportunity to sing along loudly, and embarrassingly, to my friend’s newly purchased Simon & Garfunkel Live in NY CD. There’s a wonderful moment in the middle of the show where Simon (or Garfunkel?) commends the civic-mindedness of “the guys selling loose joints” because they planned to donate half their proceeds to the city. Drug dealers these days have no sense of social responsibility.
In any case, after an hour of excruciating inching, we were informed that the fair parking lots were full and we would have to catch the shuttle from the satellite parking lot. I managed not to ask the nice policeman why the hell no one thought to tell people that before they spent an hour sitting unnecessarily in traffic. Ergh. Things didn’t improve much once we hit the satellite parking lot.
If I ever wondered how much I love fried foods and rubber frog-catapulting games, the answer is “an extremely unhealthy amount" because a full hour later, we were squeezed onto a school bus and dropped at the fairgrounds. And then things improved immeasurably. There were lights...
And rides...
And snacks...
There was a Latino dude playing the traditional Peruvian folk tune “(I Can’t Help) Falling in Love with You” on the pan pipes.
And, of course, there was this sign...
And this...
There were chicks hatching, which was really very cool until I noticed two of the chicks were having a rough time. One just lay there with a leg awkwardly twisted up and over its chest, racked by really painful-looking seizures. Another misshapen runty one kept trying, and failing, to stand. A little kid asked his distressed-looking mother if the runty chick was “going to make it” and in a stricken voice she told him “I don’t think so.”
It’s so wonderful when children can be exposed to the miracle of life – and the inevitability of suffering and death - at such a very young age.
I also saw real live sheep for the first time since I started knitting. Sheep are soooo much more exciting when you’re a knitter. They’re yarn, with legs.
I even managed to accomplish some hat knitting…
Many thanks to my fabulous friend Megan for driving and being such excellent (and patient) company.
The traffic jam did give us an opportunity to sing along loudly, and embarrassingly, to my friend’s newly purchased Simon & Garfunkel Live in NY CD. There’s a wonderful moment in the middle of the show where Simon (or Garfunkel?) commends the civic-mindedness of “the guys selling loose joints” because they planned to donate half their proceeds to the city. Drug dealers these days have no sense of social responsibility.
In any case, after an hour of excruciating inching, we were informed that the fair parking lots were full and we would have to catch the shuttle from the satellite parking lot. I managed not to ask the nice policeman why the hell no one thought to tell people that before they spent an hour sitting unnecessarily in traffic. Ergh. Things didn’t improve much once we hit the satellite parking lot.
If I ever wondered how much I love fried foods and rubber frog-catapulting games, the answer is “an extremely unhealthy amount" because a full hour later, we were squeezed onto a school bus and dropped at the fairgrounds. And then things improved immeasurably. There were lights...
And rides...
And snacks...
There was a Latino dude playing the traditional Peruvian folk tune “(I Can’t Help) Falling in Love with You” on the pan pipes.
And, of course, there was this sign...
And this...
There were chicks hatching, which was really very cool until I noticed two of the chicks were having a rough time. One just lay there with a leg awkwardly twisted up and over its chest, racked by really painful-looking seizures. Another misshapen runty one kept trying, and failing, to stand. A little kid asked his distressed-looking mother if the runty chick was “going to make it” and in a stricken voice she told him “I don’t think so.”
It’s so wonderful when children can be exposed to the miracle of life – and the inevitability of suffering and death - at such a very young age.
I also saw real live sheep for the first time since I started knitting. Sheep are soooo much more exciting when you’re a knitter. They’re yarn, with legs.
I even managed to accomplish some hat knitting…
Many thanks to my fabulous friend Megan for driving and being such excellent (and patient) company.
October 6, 2006
On the having of standards
I did a quick perusal of my August and September entries and it appears that in two months I’ve completed two socks, frogged one other, stopped knitting another sock after part-frogging it several times, finished a hat that was already 2/3 complete and started on another hat - a hat that I’ve already started, frogged and re-started three times. I do a lot of frogging.
I think I’d like to spend less time ripping shit out and more time finishing things.
In the meantime, I’ve decided I should rename my blog. From now on librarian-in-training should be accessed via i-rip-shit-out.blogspot.com.
I wonder if this penchant for starting, mangling, then not finishing projects means:
1) I need to improve my knitting skills, or…
2) I need to lower my standards
Doubtful? Work with me for a minute.
Option 1: It’s possible I’m just a really crappy knitter. I’d be ok with that. It’s also possible that I would be a much better knitter if I could just get over my aversion to gauge swatching. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure that won’t change any time soon.
So thankfully there’s also Option 2: it could be that my standards are too high. If I could just abandon concepts like “fit” and “drape,” I would be much more successful in my “finishing projects” goal.
For example, I'm a systems analyst By Day. This means I help design, test and implement internal systems for a consulting company. A few days ago, my knitterly coworker and I were testing a bug fix on one of our systems and chatting idly while waiting for several (agonizingly slow) pages to load.
Suddenly, she looked up at me and said “IF I HAD TO USE THIS SYSTEM EVERY DAY, I WOULD DIE.”
And I said, “That’s exactly the kind of user experience we were looking for.” Mind you, this (agonizingly slow) system was considered a successful implementation! That’s the kind of standards I’m talkin’ ‘bout.
There are several other workaround options: I could try to befriend way more people, preferably people that come in way more sizes. To hell with this “normal size” group of friends I have. I want people with shockingly humongous heads and miniscule feet! Barrel chests with stubby little arms! Scrawny legs, broad heels and strangely square toes.
My new tag line can be....Misshapen? Freakish? Disproportionate? Have I got knitwear for you!
Also, my friends totally need to get with the breeding program. If baby knits turn out too big, they will always fit the recipient eventually. Selfish friends.
Seriously though, I need to fucking back off a little bit on the frogging thing. I need to remind myself that I took up knitting for fun. I need to remember that I’ve been knitting all of a year, and it’s ok if I’m not turning out sock after sock in between gorgeous lace shawls and saucily redesigned sweaters nearly every day.
I work. I’m in grad school. And I have the attention span of a hyperactive blowfly. On crack. I will most likely never be that kind of knitter.
And that's perfectly fine with me. Standards be damned.
I think I’d like to spend less time ripping shit out and more time finishing things.
In the meantime, I’ve decided I should rename my blog. From now on librarian-in-training should be accessed via i-rip-shit-out.blogspot.com.
I wonder if this penchant for starting, mangling, then not finishing projects means:
1) I need to improve my knitting skills, or…
2) I need to lower my standards
Doubtful? Work with me for a minute.
Option 1: It’s possible I’m just a really crappy knitter. I’d be ok with that. It’s also possible that I would be a much better knitter if I could just get over my aversion to gauge swatching. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure that won’t change any time soon.
So thankfully there’s also Option 2: it could be that my standards are too high. If I could just abandon concepts like “fit” and “drape,” I would be much more successful in my “finishing projects” goal.
For example, I'm a systems analyst By Day. This means I help design, test and implement internal systems for a consulting company. A few days ago, my knitterly coworker and I were testing a bug fix on one of our systems and chatting idly while waiting for several (agonizingly slow) pages to load.
Suddenly, she looked up at me and said “IF I HAD TO USE THIS SYSTEM EVERY DAY, I WOULD DIE.”
And I said, “That’s exactly the kind of user experience we were looking for.” Mind you, this (agonizingly slow) system was considered a successful implementation! That’s the kind of standards I’m talkin’ ‘bout.
There are several other workaround options: I could try to befriend way more people, preferably people that come in way more sizes. To hell with this “normal size” group of friends I have. I want people with shockingly humongous heads and miniscule feet! Barrel chests with stubby little arms! Scrawny legs, broad heels and strangely square toes.
My new tag line can be....Misshapen? Freakish? Disproportionate? Have I got knitwear for you!
Also, my friends totally need to get with the breeding program. If baby knits turn out too big, they will always fit the recipient eventually. Selfish friends.
Seriously though, I need to fucking back off a little bit on the frogging thing. I need to remind myself that I took up knitting for fun. I need to remember that I’ve been knitting all of a year, and it’s ok if I’m not turning out sock after sock in between gorgeous lace shawls and saucily redesigned sweaters nearly every day.
I work. I’m in grad school. And I have the attention span of a hyperactive blowfly. On crack. I will most likely never be that kind of knitter.
And that's perfectly fine with me. Standards be damned.
October 5, 2006
Sock History
Lollygirl suggested that Socktoberfest types share their sock history, so here goes...
I started making socks this summer. I blame, er, credit, the Yarn Harlot’s Knitting Rules and her utterly charming chapter on the allure of sock knitting. Plus knitting socks makes me feel like a super-genius.
I originally taught myself using the Harlot’s Rules and the free pattern on a (hideous) ball of Lion Brand Magic Stripes yarn. Over the summer I also took a sock knitting class at A Good Yarn, wherein I discovered I already knew how to knit socks, but was reassured to hear that my “mistakes” (ladders, holes at the gusset) were totally normal and could be fixed with practice and some yanking.
I had already made two other socks (not a pair) before making the first full pair for my sock knitting class. Considering that I made them out of DK-weight alpaca at the end of August, they’ve had minimal wear and have consequently held up brilliantly.
That first pair is chock-full of mistakes, but I pretty much adore them just the way they are.
In terms of construction, I might try a short-row heel next or toe-up, but so far it’s been plain old top-down, heel flapping on DPNs for me. There's something pleasingly tidy and old-fashioned about that method.
I do have Cat Bordhi’s Socks Soar on Two Circular Needles, though I haven’t tried it out yet. Oddly, I’m always willing to buy yarn that might not pan out, but I just can’t make myself invest in several Addis for a sock-knitting method I might not like. And I don’t do enough knitting with fingering weight yarn to justify teeny tiny Addis for anything else.
As for yarn, I’ve tried Opal, Lorna’s, Sunshine Yarns and Lion Magic Stripe, as well as the DK-weight alpaca. Mostly, I’m just a big slut for cute colors and stripes. The yarn itself matters less to me.
Just the one pair so far, so I guess I'm a sock novice. I’ve started and frogged three or four others, and I’m currently in a fight with my most recent sock (I love him so, but I'm afraid we're not meant to be together).
So I suppose in the spirit of Socktoberfest, I should be knitting something sockish, instead of just talking about it…
Off to the knitting!
I started making socks this summer. I blame, er, credit, the Yarn Harlot’s Knitting Rules and her utterly charming chapter on the allure of sock knitting. Plus knitting socks makes me feel like a super-genius.
I originally taught myself using the Harlot’s Rules and the free pattern on a (hideous) ball of Lion Brand Magic Stripes yarn. Over the summer I also took a sock knitting class at A Good Yarn, wherein I discovered I already knew how to knit socks, but was reassured to hear that my “mistakes” (ladders, holes at the gusset) were totally normal and could be fixed with practice and some yanking.
I had already made two other socks (not a pair) before making the first full pair for my sock knitting class. Considering that I made them out of DK-weight alpaca at the end of August, they’ve had minimal wear and have consequently held up brilliantly.
That first pair is chock-full of mistakes, but I pretty much adore them just the way they are.
In terms of construction, I might try a short-row heel next or toe-up, but so far it’s been plain old top-down, heel flapping on DPNs for me. There's something pleasingly tidy and old-fashioned about that method.
I do have Cat Bordhi’s Socks Soar on Two Circular Needles, though I haven’t tried it out yet. Oddly, I’m always willing to buy yarn that might not pan out, but I just can’t make myself invest in several Addis for a sock-knitting method I might not like. And I don’t do enough knitting with fingering weight yarn to justify teeny tiny Addis for anything else.
As for yarn, I’ve tried Opal, Lorna’s, Sunshine Yarns and Lion Magic Stripe, as well as the DK-weight alpaca. Mostly, I’m just a big slut for cute colors and stripes. The yarn itself matters less to me.
Just the one pair so far, so I guess I'm a sock novice. I’ve started and frogged three or four others, and I’m currently in a fight with my most recent sock (I love him so, but I'm afraid we're not meant to be together).
So I suppose in the spirit of Socktoberfest, I should be knitting something sockish, instead of just talking about it…
Off to the knitting!
October 4, 2006
Smitten
I'm so completely in love with this new yarn. And not just because it has the cutest label I've ever seen (happy sheep! knitting!)...
No, I also love it because it's so pants-crappingly beautiful.
[Updated November 10, 2006 to replace the photo I deleted from my Flickr account]
My photo in no way does it justice. In real life, this yarn is the most wonderful combination of green-blue glass and smoky silver and stormy seas, with forest floors and old moss and bursts of Martha Stewart blue and apple green thrown in. I get excited every time I pick it up, just to see what color might come up next.
It's so beautiful that I think I achieved knitting nirvana. I twisted the stitches - not once, but TWICE - while joining for the first round in the hat. And I absolutely didn't care. I really thought "Yay, more knitting!" as I ripped it out. And every time I come across a gigantic hunk of organic matter (twig? hoof? poop? nail clippings?) mashed inside the yarn, I calmly pluck it out and keep knitting.
In fact, I give full credit to this yarn for the cute Australian that started chatting me up on the T yesterday while I was knitting with it. When I told the boyfriend all about it, he responded with withering (yet strangely sexy) sarcasm, "Yeah, I'm sure he was really interested in your knitting."
This is the boyfriend that texted me today that he was watching TV in my apartment but would also "guard yarn in case of intruders." I do love him.
In library news, my class visited the Thomas Crane library in Quincy yesterday, and I feel ever so much better about everything. The library was beautiful and lively and light-filled, not to mention well-funded. They have up-to-date technology everywhere and real live birds in the children's room and the center of their library is a three-story atrium with a cafe and performance space. It's the kind of place where the patrons complain that the staff is too loud and that they lack librarian-ish decorum.
It reminded me that there absolutely are libraries I would be thrilled to work in. Thank f-ing God.
No, I also love it because it's so pants-crappingly beautiful.
[Updated November 10, 2006 to replace the photo I deleted from my Flickr account]
My photo in no way does it justice. In real life, this yarn is the most wonderful combination of green-blue glass and smoky silver and stormy seas, with forest floors and old moss and bursts of Martha Stewart blue and apple green thrown in. I get excited every time I pick it up, just to see what color might come up next.
It's so beautiful that I think I achieved knitting nirvana. I twisted the stitches - not once, but TWICE - while joining for the first round in the hat. And I absolutely didn't care. I really thought "Yay, more knitting!" as I ripped it out. And every time I come across a gigantic hunk of organic matter (twig? hoof? poop? nail clippings?) mashed inside the yarn, I calmly pluck it out and keep knitting.
In fact, I give full credit to this yarn for the cute Australian that started chatting me up on the T yesterday while I was knitting with it. When I told the boyfriend all about it, he responded with withering (yet strangely sexy) sarcasm, "Yeah, I'm sure he was really interested in your knitting."
This is the boyfriend that texted me today that he was watching TV in my apartment but would also "guard yarn in case of intruders." I do love him.
In library news, my class visited the Thomas Crane library in Quincy yesterday, and I feel ever so much better about everything. The library was beautiful and lively and light-filled, not to mention well-funded. They have up-to-date technology everywhere and real live birds in the children's room and the center of their library is a three-story atrium with a cafe and performance space. It's the kind of place where the patrons complain that the staff is too loud and that they lack librarian-ish decorum.
It reminded me that there absolutely are libraries I would be thrilled to work in. Thank f-ing God.
October 3, 2006
Too many crayons
My boss has twin boys that just started kindergarten. When she was back-to-school shopping, she mentioned that the kindergarten gave very specific instructions regarding the number of crayons to purchase. Something like 12 or 18, not the monster-size box (with 68 crayons and an awesome built-in crayon sharpener) I remember so fondly from my elementary school days.
Apparently, if young children have too many crayons, it takes them forever to decide which crayon to use. Hear that - too many colors equals paralyzing indecision.
Ah, you may say, "but you're not a five year old."
Or "you're a grown-up, you should totally be able to cope with having lots of yarn."
But oh how wrong you would be. No. Idea. What. To. Knit. Next.
Apparently, if young children have too many crayons, it takes them forever to decide which crayon to use. Hear that - too many colors equals paralyzing indecision.
Ah, you may say, "but you're not a five year old."
Or "you're a grown-up, you should totally be able to cope with having lots of yarn."
But oh how wrong you would be. No. Idea. What. To. Knit. Next.
October 1, 2006
Knitting math
Finding more brown yarn
+ procrastination
= a finished hat!
This hat has been languishing in my Unfinished Object basket since last spring. I actually finished it (the first time) in March, then ripped out the top third after re-reading the part of the pattern that said, in all caps:
BEGIN DECREASING EVERY OTHER ROW
I believe I decided the pattern was "not the boss of me" and decreased every row instead. This turned out badly and I was irritated, so the hat remained unfinished. Until now.....
I keep sneaking into the bathroom to admire it while it's blocking. Now I know it's nothing particularly spectacular, but I do so love a finished object. Finishing makes me feel like the kind of knitter that doesn't just sluttishly start project after project, abandoning them as soon as they have a problem. The kind of knitter that won't be seduced by any soft, gorgeously colored yarn that saunters by.
The kind of knitter, in short, that finishes what she started.
Maybe I'll pick up something else from the UFO basket today.
Maybe I'll virtuously finish EVERY SINGLE F-ING THING IN THE DAMN BASKET....
Or maybe I'm still high from all that yarn I bought yesterday.
+ procrastination
= a finished hat!
This hat has been languishing in my Unfinished Object basket since last spring. I actually finished it (the first time) in March, then ripped out the top third after re-reading the part of the pattern that said, in all caps:
BEGIN DECREASING EVERY OTHER ROW
I believe I decided the pattern was "not the boss of me" and decreased every row instead. This turned out badly and I was irritated, so the hat remained unfinished. Until now.....
I keep sneaking into the bathroom to admire it while it's blocking. Now I know it's nothing particularly spectacular, but I do so love a finished object. Finishing makes me feel like the kind of knitter that doesn't just sluttishly start project after project, abandoning them as soon as they have a problem. The kind of knitter that won't be seduced by any soft, gorgeously colored yarn that saunters by.
The kind of knitter, in short, that finishes what she started.
Maybe I'll pick up something else from the UFO basket today.
Maybe I'll virtuously finish EVERY SINGLE F-ING THING IN THE DAMN BASKET....
Or maybe I'm still high from all that yarn I bought yesterday.
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