Apologies for the terrible cell phone picture, but this. This is adorable. It fills me with optimism and delight. Such a sweet little family. And even better is that they’re parked at the library. And even better than that is I’ve seen them there several times. It must be a regular weekend outing for them.
We may not be doomed after all.
Again, I was preparing to go camping. And again, I was dangerously close to the end of the second sock.
But I’ve learned my lesson. And besides, we were car camping this time. If there’s room for a cooler, there’s room for all the yarn a backup project or two.
And it’s a good thing, too, because there was still plenty of evening light left when this happened.
The pattern is Jeck. It’s another perfect traveling pattern: instantly memorizable, easy enough to work while doing anything else, but provides a break from endless plain stockinette. It would have been better suited to a colorway that tends to arrange itself into one-row stripes, to really show off the slipped stitches, but I think it looks fine here too. Of course, there’s not much that could make this yarn look bad.
The yarn is Little Red Bicycle Hipster Sock, in Cthulhu. I previously said the only thing I didn’t love about it was that it hadn’t become socks yet. Well, times have changed, and now the only thing I don’t love about it is that I don’t have another skein.
I learned this trick from Lucy Neatby, and it’s a pretty great one.
Tyvek envelopes are commonly used to ship documents, because they’re cheap and light and something like waterproof. Unfortunately, the stuff is a pain in the patootie* (and possibly not worth the bother, once you factor in the environmental impact of shipping) to recycle.
But they’re great for re-use. Make a label out of a scrap of Tyvek, write on it with permanent marker, safety pin it to your swatch, and you can save any information you might ever need about it. The label can be washed right along with your swatch and stay on it forever (you do swatch everything and save all your swatches forever, right?).
Sure, you can encrypt needle size in purl bumps easily enough, but what I love about this is that you can record so much more and never have to go searching through memories or Ravelry project pages or scattered sticky notes in order to be sure — what was that yarn? What was that colorway? What tortures has this swatch endured?
Or, you know, any other information that might be important.
* WordPress spellcheck does not recognize “patootie” and suggests I might mean “potato.” This may be the beginning of referring to every minor annoyance as “a pain in the potato.”
I sewed the bloody seam. And it really wasn’t that bad.
And I sewed on the buttons. And that really wasn’t so bad either (although 15 buttons in half a week might have been a bit much).
And now –I’ll be in my bunk. Knitting socks and hats and seamless pullovers.
Having finally found buttons that were not made in China and did not add 30% or more to the total project material costs, I finished up Before Dark this weekend. The weather really hasn’t been cool enough to wear it, but. . . has that ever stopped a knitter with a gorgeous new FO?
I made several modifications. The pattern calls for eight buttons in two columns, with the last one falling just slightly below the bust, but I did ten and spaced them out more, so the bottom buttons are just above the hip. I also added several extra decrease rounds in the sleeves (if I were to do it again, I’d even throw in a couple more).
The thing that first drew me to this pattern was that it’s double breasted, which means two layers of wool right on that center stripe where the cold wind hits a cyclist hardest. And because it’s going to be riding gear, I made a couple of bike-specific mods.
Short rows at the back so it will reach past the top of my pants when I’m in the drops:
And extra-long sleeves with thumb holes. Since the cuffs are garter, they can be turned up most of the time and just be wrist-length, but it’s nice to have the option for that extra bit of coziness.
So. I’m not saying I’m ready for summer to be over, but I am slightly more prepared for bike rides on brisker days.
Pattern: Before Dark by Veera Välimäki | Yarn: Madelinetosh Tosh DK, in Mare
The heel flap was clearly too long, a problem which I ignored. This meant the gusset became too loose and too long, leading into a foot that was also less snug than desirable. Which I continued to ignore.
Because knitted fabric is miraculous, and I wanted to see. . . there was this idea, maybe I could cheat and fix things the easy way, without ripping anything back. . . and I’d feel dumber than an Irish Setter huffing spray paint if it didn’t work, but if it did. . .
I started the toe decreases too early. And it worked.
The finished sock, looking as short and stout as any teapot, rearranged the shape of its stitches as I wiggled my foot into it. It fits perfectly. I love it. And I can’t wait to get its mate on the needles.
What if we were all made of knitting instead of flesh and bone? We would be cozy all the time, for one, and Velcro would be illegal (or at least have a three-day waiting period), but also –so many of the body image issues that plague most of us could simply be blocked out.
Worried you’re “too short” or “too fat” and no one will ever want you? Just take a bath and have a friend tie your wrists and ankles to the bedposts while you’re still damp. Problem solved.
(Not an endorsement of current cultural beauty norms — just a thought that made me chuckle while playing with my socks).
1. You need to weave in all those ends first, anyway. Give yourself a time-consuming reward after every three ends (or every end, if your stripes are very wide).
2. You need to wash and block it first, too. And since your yarn is superwash (unless you don’t like the intended recipient’s parents very much) it will grow into an LSJ (Linebacker Surprise Jacket) in its bath and require a trip through the dryer to spring back to baby-sized. To avoid wasting energy, get all caught up on the laundry while you’re at it.
3. Marvel at the idea that you’re now using laundry to procrastinate, instead of procrastinating the laundry by any means necessary. Make a list of all the other things you can put off doing by doing housework. Be filled with confidence that you will soon have the cleanest house on the block.
4. Drop the list on a pile somewhere and spend the rest of the afternoon on Ravelry.
5. Is your BSJ clean now? Lay it out, folded and perfect, and make sure it gets absolutely dry. Really, really dry. Give it three or four days, at least. Add extra days if it rains or if the humidity is high. Or if it’s cold outside. Or if your project is kept in a room where people and animals do a lot of breathing.
6. While you wait for the BSJ to dry, contemplate your leftovers. Spend another afternoon on Ravelry looking for matching hat and bootee ideas.
7. Consider the idea that the appeal of the BSJ is really all in the fold, and the whole thing is much less impressive once it’s sewn up. Perhaps the baby would prefer it if you just safety pinned the shoulder seams, so you can show him how it all comes together?
8. You’re going to need buttons. Turn your attention to finding or making just the right ones. Change your mind about them frequently. Spend as much time on the button decision as you did on the entire knitting process. Forget about seaming until the button issue is settled to your complete satisfaction.
9. Realize you don’t actually know how to make this seam, and pull up a tutorial on YouTube. Watch the tutorial two or three times with your BSJ in hand. For a different perspective, click on one of the recommended video links at the end, and watch that. Decide another uploader’s communication style might make more sense to you, and click the link for another recommended video.
10. To make sure you really have learned everything the internet has to teach you, repeat step 9 indefinitely.
1. Unfolded.
2. Folded.
Clever little beasties.
There are a lot of common misconceptions about knitting: that it takes a lot of patience, that it’s difficult, that it’s done only by those with ample free time, that it is, in any way, a thing a person might take up to save or earn money.
But a man on MAX the other morning had a new one. I can only imagine his early exposure to knitting must have involved aunts and grandmothers in rocking chairs, and he somehow got the impression the chair was an essential part of the whole business.
“I’m impressed,” he said, “that you can knit standing up like that.”
What’s the oddest one you’ve heard lately?
