Pride cometh

... before the frog.

Allow me to explain.

Last year, to mark our ten year anniversary, I told Andrew that I would spin and knit him a sweater. I know that - had I *not* had some unforeseeable complications - I totally would have finished the sweater in 2011.

Shouldacouldawoulda.

So.

I made some excellent progress on my Ravelympics Ravellenics project- which was the Ribbed Baby Jacket by Debbie Bliss out of Malabrigo Rios. I finished the knitting with a week to spare in the Ravellenic games.

Occasionally I'll have a bout of finishitis, where I'm inspired to dig in my UFO bins and FINISH EVERYTHING.

"I'm going to finish knitting your sweater during the Ravelympics!" I told Andrew.

"Ravellenics," Andrew corrected, "And I'll believe it when I see it."

I pulled the sweater out. The sleeves were half-knit. (Both of them. I was knitting the sleeves two-at-a-time.)

"I can totally do this!" I told Andrew, who responded with a few less-than-encouraging skeptical remarks, including one about his sweater being in the "sweater [witness] protection program"**.

"You'll see. I'm going to get this done before the end of the Ravelympics," I said, with the confidence of a woman who Could. Not. Lose.

"Ravellenics."

"Sweater. Mark my words, husband."

I knit a few more inches on the sleeves before I realized that something wasn't right. I looked at the sweater diagram, and at their largest point, the sleeves should have been 18 1/2". This was closer to 15".

There was nothing wrong with the math on the sweater. I measured my gauge, and then remembered that when I swatched for the sweater, I needed to go up a size or two on my needles from the body of the sweater.

Which I neglected to do when I started the sleeves. Because I was so excited about powering through the sleeves. HUBRIS!

Before and after, the background is the body of the sweater

Andrew ripped out the sleeves, apologizing the whole time.

Maybe it won't get done during the Ravellenic Games, but since it's going to be in the low to mid '90s, I'm sure in the next few weeks will be *plenty* soon enough.



** How exactly would one get into the Sweater Witness Protection Program? Is this a sweater that has seen too much? If it's identity was made public, would it go to sleep with the frogs?

A reconciliation

Once upon a time, a knitter named Jasmin knit her [then] magnum opus, and it was called "Mariah". She knitted the body in a flash, and not even the sleeves managed to slow her down:

I understand your sleeve envy.

She installed the zipper all-by-herself (using the tutorial from Splityarn), and even though it was hot and humid out that day, she put it on proudly so that she could take a picture of herself in it.

I look like Mom when I make that face.

If you recall, she hated it. She sulked for a while about it, and in a fit of holy-crap-it's-early-and-yoga-starts-soon induced urgency, she grabbed Mariah to wear to class. Because that's what you do with ugly/ill-fitting clothes. You wear them to yoga.

(Can we go back to first person? This third person business is exhausting and frankly, confusing my poor, addled brain.)

So I did. I got *SO* many compliments on Mariah, it was unreal. All from non-knitters. One woman from class liked my Mariah so much that she is LEARNING TO KNIT. I'm totally serious.

I'm not normally someone who is swayed by public opinion, but when they're saying really nice things about a sweater that you created, stitch by stitch, it counts more. It just does. You could say that Mariah and I have found a place where we can cheerfully coexist. And that place is yoga.

I do need to order a better zipper, and "let" Mom help me apply it (no reflection on Caro's tutorials, more on my lack of mad zipper-installing skills). For now, this story finally found its happy ending.

Oh, also? I cut off (almost) all of my hair:

I call this "pink steel".

The whole not-bleaching-your-roots business was driving me crazy, and I've always wanted a mohawk. Suzy (my amazing stylist, since I was 6 years old) refused to give me a mohawk, because (a) I would never blow my hair out to have it be mohawk-y and spiky and (b) even if I did, the sheer WEIGHT of my hair wouldn't stand up.

This is our compromise- the curly ladyhawk. Depending on my product mojo, some days it's more hawked than others. Sometimes when you have an extreme change in your life (like perhaps, a SharkBean in progress (thanks, LizzLizzLizz), and extreme 'do usually follows suit.

Because that's how I roll.

Love turned sour

I first discovered Knitty in 2004, and Mariah was the pattern that introduced me to the incredible resource that *is* Knitty. Before Knitty, there were some sources for free knitting patterns on the internet, but fewer than half had photos, and even fewer were enticing enough to knit. Mariah had me at "Hello".

I saw it at my [then] boyfriend's cottage, because he was oh-so-cool enough to have DSL, and I printed out the pattern because I knew I *had* to knit it. I might have carried the pattern around with me, and every worsted weight yarn was a potential candidate for My Mariah.

Maybe it was all the anticipation, how could any pattern hold up to almost SEVEN years of dreaming about knitting it. Mariah was my magnum opus**, my "someday I'll be a good enough knitter and I will make this" sweater. I bought hot pink cashmere on sale, and it marinated in my stash WAITING for the day when I decided I was finally ready.

This January, partly because of Jasmin 2011 (but also a little Jasmin 2009). Jasmin 2011 is all about productivity- knitting what I'm inspired to work on, when I'm inspired to work on it. Combined with my Jasmin 2009 goal of using the good stuff now, it seemed like exactly the right time for Mariah to stop being a dream and start being a zippered cardigan.

I blasted through knitting the body

I knit the body in one piece, instead of three.

Highlighted the chart with NO MERCY

I <3 these highlighters

And sleeves, which are normally my kryptonite? Not a chance with a chart this interesting

This sweater was brought to you without a cable needle.

It's a yoke sweater, so the get-Chloe-to-set-my-sleeves-in time delay didn't apply here. I attached the sleeves and after the first few awkward rows (which they are, at first), my beautiful yoke sweater actually looked like a beautiful yoke sweater.

The hood slowed me down, but I kept at it. Finally, it came time to add the zipper, and I was going to do it myself. Three trips to the fabric store later, and four zippers later, with the aid of Caro Sheridan's brilliant tutorial, I applied my first zipper.

The zipper install is hardly my best work, and really, my backstitching looks more like highway 17 than a beautiful, straight row of stitches, but it's my first one. I'm going to re-do it when I get the perfect zipper, and my next zipper install will be better, because now that I've done it by myself, it's okay for Mom to help me. You understand.

I wove in all my own ends, and despite the fact that it was 78ºF (25.5ºC) and humid (for California) I put it on proudly and bounded over to my mirror to admire my handwork.

I hate it. It's boxy and shapeless, and the neckline is AWFUL. You can't see it from this shot, but where the hood grows out of the sweater is weird and floppy, leaving the awful straight-across neckline in a place that doesn't agree with normal t-shirts (I tried two different shirts, no success). The phrase "waste of cashmere" may have crossed my lips.

I blinked back the tears of a woman who finally got what she wanted, and realized that it wasn't, quite. "Disappointed" doesn't seem to quite cover it and "devastated" seems a bit melodramatic. However, I had plans with Guido, the charming host of the It's a Purl, Man podcast, and he was not deserving of my bad mood, so I pushed the misadventures of Mariah to the back of my mind, giving it only a brief mention when with a fellow knitter. He could relate.

After dinner, where Guido and I discussed the finer points of the difference between a knitting guild and a knitting group, where knitting is going, and whether or not weaving and spinning are the next knitting, he invited me to the Where 2.0 conference, where they were having Ignite sessions. Guido knows how to show a geek girl a good time, let me tell you. The sessions we saw were interesting, engaging, funny, and enlightening.

(It also made me want to unplug my whole life and live as off-grid as possible, but that is usually how I respond to the whole "everyone knows what you're googling" side of the internet.)

Where 2.0 is at the Santa Clara Convention Center, where Stitches West is held. The SCCC is notoriously over air-conditioned, and I didn't notice. I was wearing my Mariah, and I was comfortable.

Maybe we'll come to some sort of agreement. Maybe (with the help of my friends) I'll find a way to make Mariah more fabulous. After all, who *isn't* improved with a few minor nips and tucks?

Maybe this was my fault, hyping up Mariah so no matter how great it turned out, I would be disappointed.

Nope. Definitely not that. But we'll figure out a way to fix her, or a way to amicably co-exist, because after all, we wouldn't want her to be a waste of good cashmere.

**To be fair, it really seems like every successive sweater that I knit is the best/most challenging thing I've ever knit. I'm a little proud of that.

Ah, seed stitch.

This is Boo's sweater, sort of:

I may have hit a wall. So, here's the list of things I would rather do than knit one more row of seed stitch:

- Dust.
- Dishes.
- Laundry.
- Tidy my office.
- Look up knife technique classes at Sur La Table.
- Blog.
- Catch up on "Big Love".
- Finish up Season 5 of Hercules on the Roku Box.
- Take a nap.
- Complain about seed stitch giving me ennui on Facebook.
- Complain about seed stitch to Andrew, my mother, and both dogs.
- Holler "WHYYYYYY?!" into the night sky, shaking my fists.
- Justify replacing our mugs with Mustache Mugs. (Go ahead, click. You know you want to.)
- Daydream about casting one not one, but THREE sweaters for myself, then snap back to keeping myself on track with Jasmin 2010.

And you can bet that I've done each and every one of those things, with only 2 1/2" more to go on each of the sleeves on Boo's Sweater. Tomorrow, I will drink a lot of coffee, and finish the sleeves.

Jasmin 2010, over and out.

A top made for Mardi Gras

From this angle, this top looks pretty great, right? It's the Tempting II top from Knitty, knit out of the Tess Yarns Microfiber Ribbon. It's a fun knit, and can be dressed up or down, depending on the accessories.

(For the record, what you can't see in the picture is that I'm also wearing some sassy, strappy, brown heels.)

Unfortunately, or fortunately in Andrew's case, the slightest movement, and BAM! I'm eligible for Mardi Gras beads. Mom actually said that it would be more modest to simply go topless. (Thanks, Mom!)

Alas, the designer is not to blame, the folly is all mine. When I cast it on (ahem, in November of 2006), apparently, I had grand aspirations of gaining 2-4" in the bust. You would think that after middle school, then the Epic Weight Gain of 2001, I would know exactly how this stuff works.

Given that sometimes I'm prettier than I am smart, this is not a complete surprise. (In my minds' eye, I'm also close to six feet tall, as opposed to five.) I also completely abandoned this project when I had to cast on and knit teeny, tiny little sleeves to attach before I could knit the yoke. Not exactly the Mount Everest of challenges to overcome, but a ribbon top of a thousand yards begins with a single stitch, bla bla, and sometimes it's more effort to go and dig up your DPNs than it is to start something new.

You can tell which option I chose.

When I picked it up to finish it in September of this year, I counted the stitches, looked at the size, and deluded myself into believe that it would be fine. Sure, the neck is open-hearted. Sure, this is supposed to have negative ease, not positive ease. Still, I pressed on, certain that it would "be fine".

[NOTE: If you ever declare that your knitting will "be fine", just stop. It always ends in tears, or in this case, offended modesty.]

All was not lost; Andrew took the picture, I declared it Too Big, then called Melinda (the incredibly talented dyer of the ribbon) and offered her a sample for the low-low price of replacement yarn.

I could go on about how it's about the journey, not the destination, but I won't bore you with platitudes. Sometimes it's about weaving in the ends on an awesome top and rocking it; not realizing that you're going to have a wardrobe malfunction at the grocery store as you get in the car.

Once more, with less enthusiasm

Last night, while I was PLOWING through the cable chart on the Tangled Yoke, I missed an increase row. Where I take 8 stitches, and turn them into 40 stitches.

Yeah, the ones with the bright green arrows. Guess when I noticed? After I finished the FOURTH row after. Considering that rows 3-12 only took a couple of hours to knit, and I've color-coded the cables (which has made the knitting much faster), this isn't terrible traumatic.

(I say this AFTER consulting with Chloe, asking if a difference of 32 stitches will be TOO noticeable, of course.)

So tonight, I rip, have a glass of wine, highlight my increases (and decreases), and start the fun part over again. This has taught me to always put in a lifeline, because I am not always smarter than my knitting.

C25K- day 2:

Today was a little more challenging.

Things I have learned:

- Dancing is better on a treadmill than on an elliptical
- Trying to manually change the speed for the C25K walk/run things is an incredibly challenging task, not for the uncoordinated.
- Despite two years of physical therapy and wearing a brace, my knee hates the treadmill. Better to wait for an elliptical than limp. (Limping is only sexy on Greg House.)

If you give an engineer a spinning wheel

Writing about the Bad Bobbin reminded me of a story from my childhood. Taking a page from Alison's book (and possibly her blog), I share with you an anecdote:

Mom and I were taking spinning lessons together (which you can hear about in this episode of Cast-on), and we had come home with a spinning wheel. Enthusiastically, I filled the first bobbin, and Mom and I changed the bobbin.

I tried sitting down to spin again, and it wouldn't work. It wouldn't GO. The wheel was moving, the flyer was spinning, but nothing was happening!

Mom turned to Dad and deferred to his degree in Civil Engineering. He and a friend (another engineer, though I'm not certain what flavor he is) fussed with the wheel for over an hour. No luck. They determined that the wheel was broken and COULDN'T work.

We called the teacher the next day, and she suggested checking the tension. Which was dangling, unfastened.

Spinning Wheel: 1, Two Northwestern Engineers: 0.

In which I confirm the definition of "crazy"

I had a ... challenged week last week. To say the least. I intended to close the week with some soothing spinning.

But.

It turns out that some of my Schacht bobbins (the high speed ones) are a little defective. One wasn't tooled properly. Instead of assuming that, I spent the better part of friday night beating myself up, and restringing my driveband.

(Because CLEARLY if the driveband has been working properly for everything else, that must be what the problem is when the only variable that has changed is a bobbin.)

So, we restring the driveband. No luck. I oil. No luck. I stomp my feet. Andrew suggests working on something else until I can ask Sandi if it's a break-in issue, or a *gasp* BAD BOBBIN.

So, Saturday morning, I take the Bad Bobbin, another stiff bobbin from that batch, the Control Bobbin (which works just swimmingly), and the appropriate high speed whorl. Sandi confirms my suspicions, and lets me know that she'll call Schacht to see what their solution to the Bad Bobbin is. I buy two more High Speed Bobbins, so that I can do this:

Totally worth it, right?

Dr. B's cure for knitting ennui

If you listened to episode 44 of the podcast, you know that my knitting has taken a nosedive. Into a pile of elephant crap. For three weeks, not only has every project run into a major snag, but the more current issue is thatI lost my will to knit. Very serious. Life-threatening, even, for those unfortunates in my immediate vicinity.

I have been suffering from knitting ennui, which is what happens when Knitter's Block goes untreated. Like an infection that gets worse. By Tuesday, when I had an appointment with the esteemed Dr. B, I was at the point where my knitting mojo was going to go septic. (I'll stop the infection analogy here.)

Our conversation went a lot like this:

Me: So, I can't knit.
Dr. B: Like, there is a problem with your hands?
Me: No. I can't knit. Everything I touch turns to crap.
Dr. B: Are you doing something differently?
Me: Same stuff. Easy stuff. There is something wrong with me. And now, I don't want to knit. I'm Sock Blocked!

(At this point, Dr. B chuckled at my interpretation of crude slang to appropriately fit the situation, and I proceeded to repeat the entire "When Knitting Attacks" segment from episode 44. Then, I said something to the effect of, "I'm sure they didn't warn you about having to deal with crazy knitters in school.")

At the end of my story, I asked for a magic solution. (Every time I go in, I explain my problem, and then request a solution, formula, or list. This works, I swear. He's just *that* good.)

So, Dr. B recommended using mindfulness practices to determine the source of the Knitter's Block. [For a great explanation of mindfulness and knitting, go listen to this episode of Cast-on.] What was I thinking about when I was working on these projects, or thinking about these projects that made them SO difficult or unappealing?

So, I did. I saw my Knit(more)-a-long sweater sitting there, on the table. After a Napoleon Dynamite-esque sigh, I determined that it was stupid to allow a large swath of stockinette stitch defeat me, and I had a movie to watch. Believe me, you don't want to face a cinematic gem like Saw 5 without some knitting.

Somehow, just auto-piloting on the Katarina sweater while watching people mutilate themselves knocked my knittng ennui right on it's ass. If knitting ennui has an ass. Though, maybe my knitting was intimidated by the film; maybe it thought I would take a Jigsaw-esque approach to it's attitude.

(That would be, for those of you who don't like gorey, poorly concieved sequels, "Shape up or lose a sleeve," in order to give the sweater a REAL appreciation for it's life.)

In any case, not only is my mojo back online, but I've also cast on a "Coachella" top, in the Tess Microfiber Ribbon. Luscious! Ignore the fact that I have done the front three times, since I managed to misinterpret the directions incorrectly the first two times. I have; the consensus is that it's going to look HOT on me.

(By the way, for your own dose of Dr. B-esque strategies, go give Dr. Gemma a listen.)

...Wow.

Tika has the best taste in movies, EVER.

I invited her over for some impromptu wine drinking, and introduced her to "How I met your mother". In exchange, Tika shared the GEM that is Xanadu. (It's on "instant watch" on Netflix, so you don't even have to waste a disk rental on this one.)

During the course of this film, we discover that Gene Kelley does a montage of EVERY movie he has been in, which is awesome. (The conversation went like this: "Gene Kelly brought back dance." "Baz Luhrmann brought back the musical.")

Both of us would also turn down a lap dance from Hugh Jackman for the opportunity to dance with Gene Kelly.

In other news, I am NOT smarter than Cat Bordhi, and have now ripped out my Coriolis again. Thank goodness I had the forethought to do my first adult sized tester in worsted weight yarn (from Fancy Image Yarns) on size 3 needles.

Jasmin's 37th law of knitting

Why is it that on any normal day, I'm practically drowning in locking stitch markers, and they all go AWOL when I'm looking to set in a sleeve?

But, Jasmin's laws 1-3 of knitting are (in order): Improvise, improvise, improvise.

So, lobster clasps it is.

Brain cells? Paging Jasmin's brain cells...

Since I knit the Dashing Mitts for Alison, I've developed a fever. A fever to knit with CASHMERE, that is. Couple that with watching Tika whip out a pair of Jacoby Mitts for herself at lightening speed, and we have Inspiration(tm).

(You feel it too, now. Right?)

In my fever to get started (and finished with said Jacoby mitts), I made a couple of crucial mistakes.

Mistake #1: I glanced at the pattern, and didn't read that it was done in 2x2 ribbing. You'll see that mine are in a 1x1. This is not critical, so I plugged along.

Mistake #2: In fingering weight yarn, on size 2 needles, 60 stitches is too many for the cuff of a sock (for me). I have little birdy bones, like Mom. My little wrist positively SWIMS in these.

(Note for a moment that I made sure that the Dashing mitts fit Alison's little birdy-bones. Evidently, when knitting for myself, I neglect to make those considerations.)

I'll be ripping them out tonight, and restarting them with 48 stitches, in 2x2 ribbing.

Also, Happy Birthday, Mom!

A little heresy

I know I'm not the only person to feel this way, and I'm certainly not the only person who has posted about it on a blog. I knit the Baby Surprise Jacket, and while I find the esteemed Ms. Elizabeth Zimmermann to be brilliant, I find her directions somewhat lacking.

Given the directions in "The Opinionated Knitter", Ms. Zimmermann urges the knitter to trust her and just go with the flow. Except this: my flow? Wasn't going so much. The way I knit, I like precision, and I don't like fudging. I found myself doing a little fudge here and there to keep things correct. In the end, you can't tell that, but given the way I
like to work- it made me uncomfortable.


I know that Ms. Zimmermann is the patron saint of knitters everywhere. I just don't think one should need a spreadsheet in order to knit a simple, garter, baby sweater. It just feels wrong.


I mentioned on the podcast that I'm not really pleased with where the colors fell. One of our listeners on Ravelry reminded me that it's no knock against the color, it's just too subtle for a kids' garment. Given the day-glo stuff that I typically knit for my friends' kids, it's no wonder that I feel compelled to push this one down to the bottom of a "gifts for
people" chest.


I've decided empirical evidence is necessary to solve the "Do I hate this sweater?" dilemma. I'll knit another one, in a bright colorway, and then decide if I still hate it.

But I still hate garter stitch. Always and forever.

Ahem.

So, I mentioned that I would be swatching for the Knitting Olympics/Ravalympics. I did my swatch last night, and it was not what I expected.

For the Ribbi Cardi, the gauge is listed at 19 sts/4 inches in st st. That comes down to 4.74 sts/inch.

My swatch, with the density and drape that I wanted, worked out to 4.34 sts/inch. That's bigger. When I did the math, it made the (orignal) directions for the 34" bust to be closer to 41". Since I don't want an oversized garment, I've found a way to make it work with the handspun.

Now, I just have to knit the sweater. Wish me luck!

Coffee house knitting

Friday night, I was invited by Gretchen to go and see Prezent Tense (sorry, no link) at Mission City Coffee. I’m always looking to expand my horizons- especially if I can knit while I do it.

I packed Henry and the Manifesto, and headed over. Mission City has a little area that they curtain off for (I assume) events with a cover charge. Fine, cool.

Then they turned the lights down. For “ambiance”. We had exactly enough light to sort of see what we were doing- but Gretch was working on a lace shawl, and Henry, as I’ve mentioned before, is a little fussy to knit.

Couple the bad lighting with a little fatigue, and we have an episode of When Knitting Attacks.

I’ve been keeping a page of tick marks to keep track of what row I’m on. Somehow, during all this, 5 + 5 + 3 = 8. Which made the pattern seem… off. Four rows into knitting in the dark, I realize my folly. Couple that with aching hands (because I can’t throw in the dark), it was the time to put my knitting away.

The music was great, very groovy, and the band dealt beautifully with a crackhead fan sitting in the front row.

After the show, Gretch and I were chitchatting by my car, and got to witness the police try to convince the crackhead to get off of a counter at the dry cleaner’s next door. Two very young cops against a wizened crackhead. It was comedy at it’s finest.

So, to summarize, we’ve learned not to assume decent lighting at any sort of coffee house performance, and when in doubt, ask your knitting friends what 5 + 5 + 3 equals.

Revenge of the sleeves

Wednesday night, I finished knitting the sleeves on my Ribby Cardi. I immediately sat down, attached them, and knit the front bands. Due to the weeding I did, I didn’t have time to finish the collar.

Good thing.

I was wearing my semi-finished Ribby around the house (yes, with the ends hanging out), and I looked in the mirror. The front of one sleeve seam and the back of one sleeve seam looked HORRIBLE. Like I hadn’t sewn it in properly. It was all askew.

Part of me really wants to pretend it’s not there. Just knit the collar, finish the sweater, and wear it proudly. The realist in me knows that’s not going to happen; I won’t wear a sweater that I’m not proud of- and that includes being proud of the finishing.

The next step is to mark where the sleeves went askew, undo the seams, and redo them. That’s half an evening’s worth of work. So, I’ll suck it up and do it, because the sweater is beautiful and I want to be proud of wearing it.

On the plus side of all of this, I’ve found that you don’t actually have to watch the television to enjoy “Bones”. This has potential.

Stitches West: T-minus 10 days

Last year, Katie bought the “Trish’s Mini Basque Corselette” kit from White Lies Designs, and challenged me to a race. She bet me that she could finish hers faster than I would finish mine. Andrew, supporting spouse that he is, was all for this competition. He, in fact, was my cheering section. He may even talked smack to my opponent.

I accepted her challenge. We both knit feverishly… for two weeks. Maybe three.

Then we hit the wall. All our pieces were knit, some of them were assembled, but we couldn’t move forward. We were effectively Sock Blocked. At (roughly) the same point in the knitting. It went in the bag, and then, out of sight.

Honestly, what held me up was all of the sewing. To clarify, it wasn’t the seaming of the piece; it’s all the blasted sewing machine sewing. I am totally annoyed by this. For a steek, it’s worth pulling out the sewing machine, but to make a hand-knitted piece more like a piece of commercial underwear? Um, no.

That’s my biggest complaint with her book of knitted lingerie. It’s more sewing than knitting, really. At that point, why not buy commercial lingerie knits and just sew fitting lingerie? Sigh.

I think this all comes back to my philosophy that not all things need to be knitted. Gifts can be bought, and quality lingerie is not knit on size 6 needles.

Knitter’s Block

(Not to be confused with Knitter’s Blocks, which are awesome.)

When I can’t knit, don’t want to spin, and am not in the mood to buy yarn or roving, I know something is wrong. The whole thing starts with a general restlessness, and grows into a frustrating condition which I can only describe as Knitter’s Block (not to be confused with the more specific Sock Block).

Knitter’s block is to knitting as writer’s block is to writing. Having suffered from both, it’s the same type of self-loathing, hair-tearing, screaming-at-the-top-of-your-lungs frustration. I get Knitter’s Block a couple of times a year, which always prompts some introspection. I ask myself why I knit, what is it that I like so much, etc, and then contemplate giving away my whole stash of knitting stuff and taking up something less frustrating. Like yoga. Or learning to speak Klingon.

I’ve noticed that my bouts of Knitter’s Block tend to follow project frustration (also known as Sock Block), illness, or extreme stress. Usually when I need inspiration or comfort most, that’s when it strikes.

I won’t lie: Ravelry is a terrific way of keeping track of all of the awesome stuff I trip over on the internet. Push the “add to Ravelry queue” is SO much easier than my archaic method of bookmarking and hoping I would remember why and what and whom it was for. You’ll see a lot of lace in my queue; I’m sure at some point, I’ll be obsessed with something new and different, and the Ravelry queue will reflect that.

I’m sure I’m just restating what everyone else has said about Ravelry, but it’s true. If I’m having a bad day and I need something good, it’s right there.

It’s knitting window shopping, if you think about it.

Jasmin 2008 likes Ravelry because it’s a database of opportunities to use up the existing stash. It’s truly glorious how useful it is when you’re on a “less is more” kick.

I love this scarf

I love this scarf.

It’s Henry from Knitty, with some adaptations (changes can be found below). I’m knitting it out of the Buffalo Gals yarn (70% bison, 30% merino). It’s a respectable sportweight yarn, and it’s a dream to knit with.

Every row I knit on it makes it more and more beautiful.

But.

It’s killing me.

It’s not taking a knife out and stabbing me, or slowly giving me cancer, but the 328 stitches per row are absolutely, positively, killing me. It’s the slipping and knitting (or purling). Hell on the hands, people.

I’m all for martyrdom- don’t get me wrong. I’m also not denying the beauty of this piece. But the motion involved in all of the slipping and knitting (or purling) is simply destroying my left hand. (Or, it does after a few hours, I should say.)

When I cast it on, I was convinced I would knit ninety of them. Now, I’m fairly certain that once this one is finished, I’ll love it and wear it all the time- but I won’t knit another one. Ever.

I’m just thrilled that I was smart enough to size up the yarn (as opposed to knitting it in the recommended fingering weight). I followed the pattern with the exception of the two following changes.

My changes:

-Cast on 164 sts

-[Following row 1]Inc to 328 sts.

Carrots and knitting lace

Except for my knitting, I’m generally a very goal-oriented and focused person. I’m very good about making deadlines (for work), and completing things on (usually ahead) of schedule. I recently came out and admitted to one of my co-workers that I don’t knit one project at a time, or finish more projects than I start. I’m lucky if I finish a couple of pieces a month, really.

Part of this is because I need different things at different times: socks for travel knitting, lace for when my brain craves more, sweaters when I’m inspired to knit them (at home). Different projects for different places.

I also prioritize my knitting; if I have an event to wear it to, it gets bumped up. If it’s a gift that’s due (which is really rare for me), it gets bumped up. This is when I start getting resentful of my knitting. The full moon rises and the Knitting transforms into Obligatory Knitting. Big, ugly, fangy Obligatory Knitting.

The only way (for me) to overcome the despair brought on by Obligatory Knitting is to plan a Better Project. Juno Regina was a Better Project (at one point), and my next Better Project is Muir.

See the planning? Everything needed is in a bag. Juno Regina is getting to the point where I’m going to have to start actively paying attention to it. Once Juno is done, Muir can begin.

The issue isn’t having concurrent lace projects- it’s more of a carrot. Finish one, start the next. I’m not as virtuous as you might think.

I have a Convertible on the needles.