Knitting with Fire

Friday, September 19, 2008

Cabled Socks and Finished Fleece

I do still knit. Check out these socks from "Socks Socks Socks" that I just finished. Love the color, love the cables. Didn't love the fact that the pattern was written to stop cabling 2 inches before the toe decreases started. It looked weird with all that blank space, and made even my size six wide feet look weirdly long and pointy, so I ripped back and continued the pattern until the toe decrease started.

Check out the duck in the background between my toes.

And for those who think that Buffalo's weather is unappealing, just look at that sky and water. Chris was kind enough to embarrass himself by participating in a public sock photo shoot in the middle of a park along the Niagara river. Oh, and this is after he was nice enough to buy me a lemon ice. These were taken last weekend on a beautiful sunny warm but not too hot day in mid-September. For the record: the upper Midwest is much, much colder than Buffalo, and Syracuse NY consistently gets more snowfall. The only reason Buffalo has the reputation it does is because the stupid football team plays in the snow belt in an open stadium. The rest of us live and work outside the snow belt.

I finished spinning the fiber study yarns a while ago, but it wasn't until getting home from my various freelance jobs that I was able to wash, measure and label the last skeins. What beauties! This is the whole study, all finished.

Right now, I'm planning to keep all of these samples in this form, so that I can use them as reference for how each breed looks and feels when spun. If I want to know how it knits up, I'll knit a sample, but I may return the sample to a skein when I'm done. I just find these so useful, especially in conjunction with the notes I took as I worked through the study, and the breed information that came with the study or was provided by Chris (spinner, not husband). Plus, they make for an incredibly appealing group of objects.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

Saturday, August 09, 2008

hefeweizen tidbit

Interesting tidbit about hefeweizens. I’ve thought for years that I don’t like Blue Moon, an American made Belgian Witt, or wheat beer. Turns out I don’t like it in bottles. On tap it’s great! I’ve also discovered over the years that I’ve only really liked hefeweizens that were brewed at the restaurant I drank them at. I thought maybe it was a matter of freshness, so some time last year I brewed one of my own. Mine was good, but didn’t have the full fruity character that is characteristic of a true hefe–often described as a taste of banana and clove. Then I re-read something in a brewing book about Germans rolling bottled hefe on the table before opening it to mix the yeast in. I tried it with mine. What a difference! There was the flavor I was missing! If only I had re-read that before we were half way through drinking the batch!

Friday, August 08, 2008

Cherry Fever Stout

I enjoy freelancing. It’s great to have the chance to work in bigger cities that truly support the arts, or for bigger organizations with more enthusiastic support than is to be found in Buffalo. I love meeting other professionals from around the country, picking up ideas from other drapers, and making friends who are all over the country working in our small but spread out profession. When I got to the Shakespeare Theatre in DC, I realized that I had worked at the Santa Fe Opera at the same time as one of the other drapers at the Shakespeare. She just looked at me, and without batting an eyelash said, “Of course you did, because there are only six people who work in theatre.” It often feels that way, when I travel to a new city only to discover that I’m working with 5 people I’ve already worked with before.

The downside of freelancing is that, in the long term, it’s hard to feel like anyplace is home. For someone like me, who does have a home and more importantly a husband who is my real home, freelancing can start to wear me down. I’ve been gone for 5 months, and boy was it good to pull into the driveway and unload all my stuff for a good long time. (In case you're curious, “a good long time” is 9 months.)

There’s a lot of other little stuff I started to miss while freelancing, like easily available internet, my own bed, and my many hobbies, most of which don’t fit on a plane or are too much to pack in the truck. I was thrilled to pick up my spinning wheel half way through the journey, but at this point it’s been 7 ½ months since I’ve brewed a batch of beer. I had been planning to brew a German maibock in time for May, but Studio Arena closed just when I would have started it.

So after unloading the truck and kissing my husband hello, I cracked open a sweet stout from my last batch (Chris didn’t even make a dent in 5 gallons of beer over 5 months, so it was almost all still here waiting for me) and hit the books. I landed again on a recipe for a cherry stout, made some calls to locate frozen sour cherries at one of the local farm markets, and got to business.

I’ve had Belgian ales and lambics that included cherries, but not a stout. This is probably not the sort of thing anyone will be serving me anytime soon, so if I want it (and I do!) I’ll have to make it myself.

The cherries get added to the wort after the boil for long enough to pasteurize them, but the recipe (found in The Complete Joy of Homebrewing) cautions not to boil again with the cherries, or it will set the pectin and leave the beer with an unpleasant haze.

The last two falls, I’ve brewed a pumpkin ale, which calls for boiling with the pumpkin, but then removing it before the wort goes into the fermenter. This recipe ferments with the cherries for the first five days to make the most of their fermentable sugars. They won’t actually add any sweetness to the final beer, because all the sugar will be used in the fermentation and converted to CO2 and alcohol. They will add their amazing sour cherry flavor, but I have no clear idea about how the final brew will taste.

I was so excited about the cherries that I decided to feature them on the label. I often draw my labels while boiling the wort, but this one took a lot longer than that, probably longer than the actual brewing process. I hand draw my labels (as opposed to using photos or clip art or asking Chris to do it) because I like the look, but also because I never do any real drawings anymore, just quick working sketches, usually of sweaters on headless bodies. The labels keep me in practice. It’s not as much about keeping the skill sharp as about the kind of observation needed to draw something. Looking at something to draw it involves analysis, not of what it is, but of what it looks like, and HOW it looks that way. Not to look and let the brain say, "hey, that’s a round cherry," but to break down and reproduce the visual cues that the brain used to interpret that it’s round. I seldom look at things that way in any other part of life, because there’s no time and I rely on my brain’s interpretation skills to understand things quickly. Drawing something lets me slow down and look at that thing, live in the moment, and understand what I’m experiencing without short cuts or assumptions. It’s like (my limited understanding of) Buddhist mindfulness, or like the scene at the end of Our Town when Emily, after death, is given the chance to live one moment of her now finished life over again. This time she really experiences it and treasures it and pays attention and LIVES it. When she asks if anyone can ever go through life this way, she is told no not always, but sometimes poets and artists come close.

Here’s what that has to do with beer (and don’t even think that was off track):

A fairly successful image of cherries. Because I was pleased, and loved the color theory involved, I also took a process picture to show the “underpainting” that I used to get the shadow colors. The cherry off to the right that looks like an olive shows only those colors, before I laid the red over the whole thing. I used water color pencils, so after drawing in the layers of color, I carefully painted over them with a wet brush to blend them and get a much richer color and more of a painted look.

This has been a good technique for me, as I’ve always been much more confident drawing than painting.

Right now the fermenting wort looks like this:

No, not a fashion statement. Ale yeast ferments best between 60 and 75 degrees F. It has been a bit over that in the apartment, but I didn’t want to wait until September to brew, so I’m using a trick I read in The Homebrewer’s Recipe Guide, which is to put a wet tee shirt over your fermenter so that the evaporating water will cool it. It’s working well, and has brought my wort temp down from 82 deg to 77.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

Why 3?

I love the colors in Noro yarn. especially the long fading repeats. Recently, I started seeing friends using Noro's sock yarn, which uses the same kind of long repeat, but weirdly provides three repeats in a ball. 3? Socks usually come in pairs, right? I get two size six socks out of 100 grams of sock yarn with a fair amount left over. Lots of folks get 2 pair out of 100 grams with little left over, and some can make it on 100 grams if they do a contrasting heal and toe. I don't see how 3 repeats in 100 grams helps any of us. Also, at $20 a ball I wasn't buying another just to get the pattern right. I figured each sock would take 1 1/4 to 1 1/2 repeats, so I sucked it up and knit the first sock, cut the yarn, and knit another the same size. This is what I got.

Having been a first hand for 6 years, this drives me absolutely nuts. In a costume shop, the first hand assists the draper and is in charge of laying out and cutting the draper's clothing patterns. That means one of the few things that is solely the first hand's responsibility is pattern layout. Not just the dreaded matching of plaids that you read about in Judy Blume novels, but also matching florals, paisleys, etc and arranging bias stripes to chevron at seams or patterns to mirror themselves at center back and center front. That being said, a heavy stripe pattern being two inches off, like those two socks up there when worn next to each other, is way worse than if the two had nothing to do with eachother.

I couldn't take it, but weirdly enough, for my little feet each sock took slightly less than a full repeat, so I picked the placement I preferred (the second sock I knit, which is the one on the left in the picture) and I started from the same spot in the pattern repeat and knitted a third sock.

Now, if the aliens land on a rainy day and get a soaker on their way from their ship to my door, I can offer a trio of dry socks, helpful to any tri-pedal alien who wears a woman's size six. It felt weird to still be knitting the same pair of socks after I had already finished 2, but look how much better this pair looks:

Now I can wear them in front of my first hand without shame, and can still hear what Chris is saying to me while I'm wearing them. much better.

Tuesday, July 15, 2008

Postcards From Cooperstown

It's been a busy summer, more hectic than some, but there's still time to do a bit of site seeing around the Cooperstown area. Of course I adore the Farmer's Museum, where the chickens walk around the grounds with you.

Various flowers are blooming around the house. I think these are the flowering sweet peas that Lisa planted.

This was my tenth year at the Springfield 4th of July parade. This tractor is just slightly earlier than my favorite style of John Deere. I think this one is late 30's early 40's, and my favorite is mid to late 40's.

I didn't get a picture of the Opera's float, but there are several at the Opera blog entry for Independence Day. I did check the corn, which was indeed knee high by the fourth of July.

Our attempt at going to the Sterling Renaissance Festival (which I was last at 19 years ago) was horribly rained out, so the only photo I got was of Brittney filling her tank in full Elizabethan underwear.

Wednesday, July 02, 2008

Faith in the Trenches

In the past few years, I’ve gotten much more involved in gardening. I didn’t build or plant the garden beds here at the farmhouse. They have been passed down through various opera employees who have been housed here over the years, but I suspect started with an earlier more permanent resident. The garden improved greatly over the past 3 or 4 years after I started hoeing in the compost each May left from the previous summer’s compost pile. The first year the herb bed got compost, it went from only growing ten inch high basil to growing 2 foot high basil bushes. Let it never be said that compost doesn’t work!

As I get more involved in (and attached to) this garden, I get more ambitious about what I plant. I also get more optimistic about how long I think I’ll keep coming back to the Opera to reap the harvest of my previous year’s work. And of course, if I am going to expand the area and content of the garden, doing so with perennials means that I won’t have to keep planting all that space every year.

This year’s perennial expansion includes mint transplanted from Dad’s garden so I can have minty iced tea, rhubarb, and asparagus. All the mint that used to grow at the farmhouse has died out, so I got some of Dad’s unstoppable mint. We don’t even really know what kind it is (although it looks the most like pictures of spearmint) because it was already growing at my parents’ house when they moved in the year before I was born. I planted it after Memorial Day, and there’s already twice as much as I planted. The rhubarb is a hopeful investment for next year’s pies, but the asparagus is a real study in faith.

I tend to feel like most gardening is a study in faith. It’s not surprising at all that Jesus used planting and harvest in so many of his parables. It takes only a little faith to believe that when I plant a small plant, like tomato plants or herbs, it will grow to be a larger version of itself. It takes a tiny bit more faith to believe it will eventually bear fruit. For me, the really powerful experience is planting seeds, and then spending weeks carefully tending a patch of dirt. I’ve seen my lettuce seeds grow into a pretty impressive bed of salad for years now, but it still seems miraculous every time. It’s only faith in experience, in the words on the back of the seed packet, and in the previous experience of so many other gardeners, that keeps me coming back each morning to lovingly water a patch of dirt as if it was a bed of lettuce. And every spring, after a week or two of faithful, but emotionally illogical dirt watering, lettuce grows! I water even while I doubt. I question whether I planted it right this year, whether the seeds I bought are viable, whether I’ve planted at the right depth, provided the right amount of water, whether I’ve waited long enough to avoid frost. Even though I doubt, I continue to tend out of faith, and my faith is rewarded.

This spring, when I planted the asparagus, I set myself up for a much bigger test of my gardening faith. First off, I’m trusting that I will still be working at Glimmerglass in the summer of 2010 when I’ll get my first full harvest. Second, I’m trusting that planting dead stuff that looks like an octopus made out of dry sticks and raffia is going to actually result in asparagus, and wasn’t just a hoax perpetrated by the garden supply store. The best part is that both Rachel and Brittney joined in on my act of faith and helped dig THE TRENCH.

I am very proud of THE TRENCH. Every summer, I garden with only a few rudimentary tools, like a crappy old shovel and a nicer pitchfork. There are no rototillers or garden weasels. There isn’t even a wheel barrow to move the compost. The three of us used a hoe, a crappy shovel, and a pitchfork to dig THE TRENCH 10 feet long, 18 inches wide, and 12 inches deep, plus we had to loosen and de-rock an additional 6 inches of soil below that. Then, as it was getting dark, we went over to our neighbors, the dairy farmers, and politely asked for 3 buckets of old cow manure. We got to ride in a Dodge Dakota up to the hill where such stuff was piled and, with our shovels and rakes and implements of destruction, dig up our bucket fulls and ride back down to THE TRENCH. My intrepid helpers learned the hard way that when riding in the bed of an open truck with buckets of manure, one should ride forward of the buckets of manure to keep one’s eyes clear of debris.

Then began the layers. Commercial 10-10-10 fertilizer was spread in the bottom of THE TRENCH, then the manure, then 2" of dirt, then the dry spidery roots–10 of them at 1 foot intervals. Then another 6 inches of dirt. Then began the waiting. As the waiting got really long, my faith began to stretch and crack. After all, this was an involved process with lots of steps that could be screwed up. I could have buried the roots too deep, they might have sat dormant in the store for too long, they might be too close to the manure and get “burned.” I started looking for information on how long it should take for them to come up. Dad didn’t really remember, as his asparagus bed is at least 15 years old. “Sprocket’s Victory Garden” didn’t say. Most websites don’t say. I finally found one that said, “after several weeks,” and another that said “as the summer progresses.” I got antsy. That’s a whole lot of work, much of it offered freely by friends, that I’d hate to see result in nothing. I started getting worried that I wouldn’t see any asparagus before leaving at the end of July. I’m supposed to wait until it comes up before filling in THE TRENCH the rest of the way. I’d really like to fill it in the rest of the way, because I’m tired of having to weed the pile of dirt that’s waiting to go back into the THE TRENCH from whence it came.

Then yesterday morning, there it was.

One teeny tiny asparagus shoot. Asparagus in miniature. My shaky faith has been shored up. My doubt has been dispelled. If nothing else, asparagus #1, on the far left end, has come up. Now I’m waiting for the others, so I can finish the job.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

How Not To Thrum Mittens

I like to analyze how things are made, and to know why they were originally made that way. I spend a lot of time at work poring over old tailor’s drafts and all the other information I can find about how garments were made in past centuries, and I love figuring out why they are made like that, and getting into the long dead tailor’s or seamstress’ mind. And then I figure out how I may need to adjust them for modern materials, and modern bodies, and how I may want to improve them, at least in small ways. When it comes to knitting, I almost always feels that there are ways that I can improve the pattern as written. I feel that I know more about fit than most pattern writers, and I fully believe that it’s better to knit something as seemlessly as possible than to knit it in a bunch of separate pieces as most patterns instruct. This infuriating belief that I always know better can sometimes backfire on me.

I decided to make thrummed mittens after reading about them in a Spin Off article a few years ago. I erroneously thought that they had been invented by the writer of the article. When I saw that each thrum was a separate piece, I decided that that was a mistake on which I could improve. So instead I decided to use a continuous piece of roving, with the idea that it would be more secure than individual bits. Boy was I wrong. Because the roving was caught at all different points within each fiber, much of it disappeared with use, and came out of the mittens as annoying extraneous fluff.

As you can see here, after a few years of wear, the roving worked in as another “yarn” is too thin to really add to the overall warmth of the mittens. I really like these mittens, are at least the idea of these mittens, because they include wool from Oscar, Lilly, Iris, and Blaze, all of whom were sheep I had met and who are no longer with us, and also angora from my first pet rabbit Jessica, who has been gone for over 5 years now. Also, they match my hat and scarf. So after researching more about thrumming, and realizing that sometimes things are done that way for a reason and don’t need my help, I decided to unravel and reknit them the right way.

I started by unraveling the yarn, winding it back into a skein, and washing it. This took out all the kinks, fluffed it up again, and got it really clean. Think about it, the soap may not really get in between all the stitches when you wash a knitted garment, but boy it can get all the way around strands of yarn in a loose skein.

I threw out the remains of the brown roving, and started fresh. I ended up using at least twice what is pictured of the dark brown for the thrums.

As for actually thrumming the right way, both the Yarn Harlot and Adria at hello yarn have excellent and well photographed instructions posted for free at their blogs. (Click on their names to see!) I did a combination of the two, maybe leaning slightly more towards the Harlot’s method.

The actual thrummed mittens. Look how much fuller and fluffier they are than the first attempt. It’s best to wait until spring to unravel one’s winter mittens, so I can’t test them while shoveling snow in Buffalo until at least late October, but I can tell just by putting them on that they’re way warmer.

Friday, March 28, 2008

Buffalo Guys' Diamond Socks–The Well Explained Wordy Pattern

This pattern is long, but carefully explained for knitters who have not knit many socks yet. If you are an experienced sock knitter, you may want to use the short form.

Sized to fit ankles 9 ½-10, (10 ½-11) inches in circumference
Lengths given for men’s shoe sizes 6-14

Gauge: 9 sts per inch

Needles: 1 set of double points in correct size to obtain gauge. (I used zeros, I knit loose. Do a swatch, it’ll make things go better for you later, honest.)

Instructions:
Cast on 72 (80) sts. (If you know how, cast on in ribbing for 2x2 rib. If you don’t know how, don’t worry, any stretchy cast on you already know will be fine.) Divide onto 3 needles, place a marker for the beginning of the round, and join, being careful not to twist.

R 1: k2, p2, repeat around.
R 2-20: continue in 2x2 rib (i.e. repeat round 1)
R 21: reset stitch counter or brain to round 1, this is the beginning of the diamond pattern.

Diamond pattern for leg:
R 1: p1, k3, p1, k3, repeat around
R 2: p1, k3, p1, k3, repeat around
R 3: k3,*[ p1, k1, p1, k5] repeat from star around, ending p1, k1, p1, k2
R 4: k3,*[ p1, k1, p1, k5] repeat from star around, ending p1, k1, p1, k2
R 5: k2, *[p1, k3, p1, k3] repeat from star around, ending p1, k3, p1, k1
R 6: k2, *[p1, k3, p1, k3] repeat from star around, ending p1, k3, p1, k1
R 7: k1, *[p1, k5, p1, k1] repeat from star around, ending p1, k5, p1
R 8: k1, *[p1, k5, p1, k1] repeat from star around, ending p1, k5, p1
R 9: p1, k3, p1, k3, repeat around
R 10: p1, k3, p1, k3, repeat around
R 11: k1, *[p1, k5, p1, k1] repeat from star around, ending p1, k5, p1
R 12: k1, *[p1, k5, p1, k1] repeat from star around, ending p1, k5, p1
R 13: k2, *[p1, k3, p1, k3] repeat from star around, ending p1, k3, p1, k1
R 14: k2, *[p1, k3, p1, k3] repeat from star around, ending p1, k3, p1, k1
R 15: k3,*[ p1, k1, p1, k5] repeat from star around, ending p1, k1, p1, k2
R 16: k3,*[ p1, k1, p1, k5] repeat from star around, ending p1, k1, p1, k2

Continue knitting in this pattern until 4 ½ diamonds have been knit down the back of the sock leg (i.e. directly in line with your beginning of round stitch marker). End with round 10. Then begin the heel flap.

Heel flap:
R 1: Knit 18 (20) sts, then turn
R 2: sl 1, Purl 35 (39) sts, turn.

At this point, arrange the stitches you’ve just worked on one dpn, and the remaining stitches on another dpn. Leave these unworked stitches alone while you knit the heel. They will become the instep stitches. In fact, if you can, cap the ends of that needle, or fit a holder over it, so you don’t lose the instep stitches when pulling your work out of your knitting bag. I speak from experience. Continuing on the heel sts:

R 3: [sl 1, k1] across heel sts
R 4: sl 1, p across heel sts
repeat rows 3 and 4 until you have 17 (19) slipped stitches along each edge of the heel flap.
Reset stitch counter or brain to row 1. Begin turning the heel.

Turning the Heel:
R 1: sl 1, k 19(21) sts, ssk, k1, turn.

(If you have never knit a sock before, you may be questioning this step, as there are still unknit stitches on the needle, this is correct, and although it is hard, go ahead and turn, and follow the heel turning directions line by line, and all should be well. If not, there are some very nice illustrated books on sock knitting that can help you with diagrams and explanation. I highly recommend Nancy Bush’s Folk Socks.)

R 2: sl 1, p 5, p2 tog, p1, turn
R 3: sl 1, k 6, ssk, k1, turn
R 4: sl 1, p 7, p2 tog, p1, turn
R 5: sl 1, k 8, ssk, k1, turn

(At this point you may have noticed that when you either p2 tog or ssk, you are doing so “across the gap.” You are welcome to continue each row by working to the gap, ssk or p2 tog, and then k1 or p1. If that doesn’t work for you, continue following the directions line by line. Either way you’ll end up in the same place.)

R 6: sl 1, p 9, p2 tog, p1, turn
R 7: sl 1, k 10, ssk, k1, turn
R 8: sl 1, p 11, p2 tog, p1, turn
R 9: sl 1, k 12, ssk, k1, turn
R 10: sl 1, p 13, p2 tog, p1, turn
R 11: sl 1, k 14, ssk, k1, turn
R 12: sl 1, p 15, p2 tog, p1, turn
R 13: sl 1, k 16, ssk, k1, turn
R 14: sl 1, p 17, p2 tog, p1, turn

smaller size only:
R 15: sl 1, k 18, ssk, turn
R 16: sl 1, p 18, p2 tog, turn
R 17: sl 1, k19 DO NOT TURN

larger size only:
R 15: sl 1, k 18, ssk, k1, turn
R 16: sl 1, p 19, p2 tog, p1, turn
R 17: sl 1, k 20, ssk, k1, turn
R 18: sl 1, p 21, p2 tog, p1, turn
R 19: sl 1, k 23 DO NOT TURN

Pick Up For the Gusset:
Divide your heel sts between 2 needles. The beginning of your round is now between these 2 needles. Think of these as needles 4 and 1. Along the edge of the heel flap using needle 1, pick up and knit the back loop of the 18 (20) edge stitches. Now reach down to the row below the last stitch picked up, and pick up that stitch too. This prevents the small hole that would have otherwise formed at the corner of your heel flap. Using a free needle, which will become needle 2, knit across the 18 (20) instep sts, continuing in the diamond pattern (round 11). Using a free needle, which will become needle 3, pick up and knit 19 (20) sts along the other side of the heel flap, beginning with the “extra” stitch from 1 row below. After picking up the stitches, still using needle 3, knit across the 10 (12) sts on needle 4. You now have all your sts arranged on 3 needles, leaving the 4th as your working needle.

That was just one round. Whew!

Gusset decreases:
Again, reset stitch counter or mind to round 1
R 1: k across needle 1, continue diamond pattern across needle 2, knit across needle 3
R 2: Needle 1: k to last 3 sts, k2 tog, k1.
Needle 2: Continue diamond pattern
Needle 3: k1, ssk, k to end of needle.

Continue alternating between rounds 1 and 2 until you have decreased back to the original 72 (80) sts. Continue down the foot, knitting all the sts on needles 1 and 3, and continuing the diamond pattern on needle #2.

When the foot is 2" shorter than its finished length begin the toe decreases. If you aren’t making these for yourself, or haven’t been able to measure the recipient’s foot, here’s a pretty good idea of men's foot lengths based on shoe size:

Toe decrease:
Reset stitch counter, or brain, to round 1.
R 1: Needle 1: k to last 3 sts, k2 tog, k1.
Needle 2: k1, ssk, k to last 3 sts, k2 tog, k1.
Needle 3: k1, ssk, k to end of needle.
R 2: k (Yes, you’re done with the diamonds now.)

Repeat rounds 1 and 2 until there are 36 (40) sts total.

Repeat round 1 until there are 16 sts total.
Knit across needle 1 and break yarn, leaving a 12" tail.
Use kitchener stitch to graft the remaining sts together.
Work in ends, and block.

Buffalo Guys' Diamond Socks–The Short Form

This pattern is brief, for the experienced sock knitter who just wants the stitch pattern and a few useful numbers. If you have not knit very many socks, you may want to use the Well Explained pattern.

Sized to fit ankles 9 ½-10, (10 ½-11) inches in circumference
Lengths given for men’s shoe sizes 6-14

Gauge: 9 sts per inch

Needles: 1 set of double points in correct size to obtain gauge. (I used zeros, I knit loose. Do a swatch, it’ll make things go better for you later, honest.)

Instructions:

Cast on 72 (80)sts. (If you know how, cast on in ribbing for 2x2 rib. If you don’t know how, don’t worry, any stretchy cast on you already know will be fine.)

Rib for 20 rounds.

Begin diamond pattern:
R 1: p1, k3, p1, k3, repeat around
R 2: p1, k3, p1, k3, repeat around
R 3: k3,*[ p1, k1, p1, k5] repeat from star around, ending p1, k1, p1, k2
R 4: k3,*[ p1, k1, p1, k5] repeat from star around, ending p1, k1, p1, k2
R 5: k2, *[p1, k3, p1, k3] repeat from star around, ending p1, k3, p1, k1
R 6: k2, *[p1, k3, p1, k3] repeat from star around, ending p1, k3, p1, k1
R 7: k1, *[p1, k5, p1, k1] repeat from star around, ending p1, k5, p1
R 8: k1, *[p1, k5, p1, k1] repeat from star around, ending p1, k5, p1
R 9: p1, k3, p1, k3, repeat around
R 10: p1, k3, p1, k3, repeat around
R 11: k1, *[p1, k5, p1, k1] repeat from star around, ending p1, k5, p1
R 12: k1, *[p1, k5, p1, k1] repeat from star around, ending p1, k5, p1
R 13: k2, *[p1, k3, p1, k3] repeat from star around, ending p1, k3, p1, k1
R 14: k2, *[p1, k3, p1, k3] repeat from star around, ending p1, k3, p1, k1
R 15: k3,*[ p1, k1, p1, k5] repeat from star around, ending p1, k1, p1, k2
R 16: k3,*[ p1, k1, p1, k5] repeat from star around, ending p1, k1, p1, k2

Monday, March 24, 2008

Craaaaaaazy Yarn

Back on Chinese New Year, I was involved in some nutty spinning at Linda's shop. Please do check out the full description, complete with pictures, here at Mary Ellen's blog.

Basically, we all brought 3 oz of ready to spin fiber with us, not knowing what exactly would happen to it, only knowing Linda would provide another 3 for each of us so that we went home with 6. I had some idea that I would blend what I brought together with something of Linda's and bring the results home. boy are my ideas simple!

Instead, we combined all of it. Yes, ALL. We started layering our fiber (mostly dyed wool) across a big table.

Once that was spread around, out came the surprise, a bag of the craziest items you ever did or didn't think to include in yarn. Stuff like silk waste, dyed cotton balls, angelina fiber, very fine wire, feathers, strips of fabric, bits of yarn--craziness. After that was spread around, we would add another layer of the more conventional wool and dyed locks, then another layer of "spinny bits" as Donna called the crazy stuff, then more wool, etc, until it looked more or less like this:

At which point we had to get it off the table.

We rolled it up like a jelly roll, and then sliced the jelly roll into rounds, one for each spinner. The rounds didn't particularly hold together, not like a roving or anything so mundane, so I carried home a big paper bag of assorted fluff and nonsense, ready to figure out how to spin it. I spun by pulling handfuls out of the bag. I found it best to alternate between drafting what was between my hands and then letting go with my forward hand, so that the twist would travel back into the fiber supply, then draft again from there. Yes, I let the twist into the fiber supply. You've been told not to do that, haven't you? So have I. I usually don't. But I found it much more helpful to let the twist select the next combination of fibers to pull into the yarn. When I tried to draft more consistently (and conventionally) I was constantly pulling apart the unrelated bits of fluff in my hands and then having to join them back on to the yarn. It's not easy to join a piece of fabric, a bit of yarn, some wool, and a feather onto the already formed yarn while treadling and trying not to drop the rest of what's in your fiber supply hand. Since the actual roving was the easiest thing to join on, I kept grabbing more of it and not getting much of the other stuff in. That's when I realized that letting the twist travel up to grab it's own next batch of stuff, similar to a long draw, would best keep my yarn together and evenly select a bit of everything from the fiber in my hand. Spinning this stuff was not about making thin yarn, or making even yarn, it was back to that first day I learned to spin, it was just about making yarn: fiber that held together with twist. Holding together, that first and foremost goal, was my only goal. I ended up with this:

I had 6-8 oz. Too much for a hat, not nearly enough for a sweater, and frankly, I wasn't sure if I would ever wear it. I mean, I like color, and am not afraid to combine colors, but I do still like it if the finished piece has a describe-able palette. And I count "rainbow" as a palette.

I'm pleased just knowing that the yarn held up to being knitted. The finished project is a mobius scarf--the kind you knit on a circular needle starting in the middle and working toward the edge.* (Yes, not only does a mobius have only one side, it also has only one edge.) Mind boggling, but after making one like this, watching it form, I have an even deeper understanding of how the things work. (For those of you who didn't grow up with a science teacher father who encouraged you to play with mobius strips instead of toys there is a good explanation here and a video including some of the things Dad showed my brother and I that one could do with mobius strips here. Yes, we were raised to be dorks. I only wish I had thought to make the video. Dork!)

If I were to make this kind of yarn again (and it's intriguing enough and surprising enough that I probably will) there are a few thing I would do differently.
#1 I would start with some sort of a color pallet, however broad.
#2 I would ply it. I spun this one as a singles because it would have looked terrible plied, but it would have been much stronger if I had plied it against something else. Next time I'll try to ply against a sewing thread, so that the thread acts as a binder to stabilize the whole thing without losing the look of the singles.
#3 I felt that some of the "spinny bits" didn't add anything to the finished yarn, and/or were too difficult to work with to be worth using again. I loved the way the silk waste looked, and the angelina, and the wool locks, along with all the spinnable fibers we blended with, but I felt like the fabric and yarn bits didn't add anything and actually weakened the yarn in places. The cotton balls were just a pain without adding anything discernible to the texture. The feathers and metal are uncomfortable in the scarf and sometimes poke me.

I hear a rumor of an upcoming workshop to do the same thing, but only in natural fiber colors. I hope I'm in town for that workshop, it could make for some really beautiful yarn!

* The procedure was printed in a magazine a few years ago. I don't remember which one, and am away from my back issues at the moment, but I'm pretty sure it was either Spin Off or Interweave Knits.

**The cardigan I am wearing in Mary Ellen's process pictures is the one that had tea spilled on it during my flight and was then shat on by a bird during my first walk in DC. It came clean, no problem, and has been safe from calamity since then. Too bad I appear (at least from those pictures) to be outgrowing it.

Sunday, March 23, 2008

Happy Easter!

Photo taken by my Dad on Rusty's 1st Easter--2004.

Tuesday, March 11, 2008

Drink Thief

This is what happens to unattended drinks at our house.

The little thief just had 3 more teeth pulled today. All he has left now is 4 incisors, 2 peg teeth, and one molar. The molar will be the last to go. Good thing Rusty's so tough--he recovers well.

Monday, March 03, 2008

Ups and Downs

Here is one more article about the situation at Studio Arena. I am not holding my breath.

In more pleasant news, I am enjoying my time at the Shakespeare here in DC. It's interesting whenever I get to a new place, to think through the pros and cons of life there. Of course, no city or situation is perfect, or perfectly horrible, so it's interesting to figure out which aspects of it's particular life are pluses, and which are minuses, especially compared to my home, or where I last came from.

I came here without my truck, having been told that there is no parking. So far, I don't miss the truck at all (and Rusty can really use all the bunny litter in the back that I've been using for extra weight in the snow). I'm in temporary housing until Wednesday, so right now, I have a 15-20 minute metro ride to work. The metro ride has afforded me almost an extra hour of knitting time every day. I am about to start the toe of the sock I cast on a week ago on the plane! I may not have packed enough knitting--only 3 more projects after this one. So metro knitting, definitely a plus. Not having a digital camera here (I've been using Chris's or my scanner) is a downer. How will I post pictures of the finished socks?!?!

Also on the plus side, there is a knitting store down the street from my costume shop. Minus--after a week of unemployment, I still have 2 weeks before getting my first paycheck, so I have not even touched the door of said yarn shop and only slightly fogged up their window.

The down side of using the metro is that fare cards are not perfect. My fare card, still with $10 credit, decided to crap out, which meant mailing it away for an alleged replacement and buying yet another one with dwindling unemployment money.

Also on the negative side, on the flight out here, after getting through security with a ticket bearing the wrong name (there's a reason they give you that marriage certificate!) I managed to dump a hot cup of tea all down the left side of myself, and the right side of the guy next to me. He looked displeased. Luckily, his smaller tea spots were on sort of tea colored pants, and had dried invisibly by the time we landed. After being driven to my current housing, I walked to the metro and rode it to the shop (to be sure I could find my way) and while walking a bird shat all down the right side of my poor, tea covered cardigan.*

Finally, the item that is both positive and negative--I am currently in temporary housing. I will have to move on Wednesday. Bad--living out of suitcases and trying not to buy too much food. There will probably be no Internet where I am moving too, which makes communication and audio book downloading difficult. Good--the new place is reputed to have a washer and dryer and the new place is 3 blocks from work, so no more paying for the metro on weekdays. Of course, that could also be bad, as I'll lose the metro knitting time.

So let's review:

Good
extra knitting time on the metro
knitting store down the street
washer and dryer in apartment
moving closer to work
free museums
gainfully employed

Bad
paying extra for busted metro card
no camera to photograph knitting
spilled tea
bird shit
soon no internet

And really, in another month to month and a half, I'll have to add cherry blossoms to the good side. Too bad I don't have a camera so I can post the pictures. Maybe after that first paycheck...

*Did I mention it was a hand washed, hand dyed, hand combed, hand spun, hand knit cardigan? Thank goodness my little travel bottle of shampoo washed out all of it's Monday adventures.