My Fuzzy Balls

Arrested Knitting

2006-10-10T15:43:00.000-07:00

Whoever said knitting socks was quick and easy, and a good way to get the 'Oh, I accomplished something!' feeling, LIED.

They LIED LIED LIED.

Knitting fancy shmancy socks with sock yarn and teeny tiny needles that break is NOT easy NOR quick. In fact, by the time I complete ONE sock, I am exhausted instead of relieved, and DREAD the process of the next sock.

Especially these socks.

Oh, Grumperina.

Really.

Why'd you do it?

Pictures forthcoming.

Teeny Tiny Non-Confrontational PostScript: If you write patterns and post them for free, you are automatically cool. However (and this goes for all knitting patterns), please be aware that many of us knitters are new to it, and desperately need very exact instructions, and so I offer this little bit of itty-bitty advice--the same advice my father gave me when it came to writing book reports. "Assume your readers know NOTHING and explain to them in VERY CLEAR INSTRUCTION."
I'm not sayin'. I'm just sayin'.

Dear Knitters

2006-08-15T08:38:00.000-07:00

Yes, I've been busy. I've finished two more hats for my dear friend Madge and her boy-toy. This was a 'trade' art project for the lovely photo those lovebirds sent to Michael and I. I am done with hats for awhile. Seriously. Like, done.
Meanwhile! Pod-Cast craziness! Not only was I highlighted on Cast-On.Com, but my dear friend Paige of Red Light Knitting Pod-Cast read an entry from this blog out loud. I must admit, my writing sounds much better when pretty ladies with nice hair read them. Please, go pay homage to Paige and listen to her podcast. It's fun, it's quirky, and it's filled with anecdotes from our Stitch N' Bitch evenings.

Between the cake ordering, dress fitting, hair and makeup appointment making, I've been, well, you know...SWAMPED. And so I greatly appreciated the sleep-over knit night at Liz's house (a fellow SnB'er). We watched two terribly stupid horror movies (compliments of yours truly) and knitted to our hearts' content. Her sister tackled ribbing (bless her) and I got converted. Liz felted.

Ah, felting!

Liz made this ENORMOUS brown and green and blue striped bag. She'd been weaving in ends for about a month now and the Knit Sleepover was the Night of the Great Felt. I couldn't understand how this huge bag that would honestly fit Liz in it would become a laptop bag. But there it went into the washer, right as the girl heroine of 'High Tension' realized she was the antagonist, thanks to her psychosis. Fifteen minutes later, out came this terrific bag--soaking wet, shrunken, and fuzzy. And just the right size for a laptop. That was it--love at first sight.

I am now making a purse for felting.

42 inches of Stockinette Stitch on Size Seven Needles. I figure I'll be done by next Christmas. Wish me luck. Pictures will be forthcoming...probably of Fritz going slowly nuts. The progression should be interesting. I blame Liz. Liz, this is your fault.

Thanks again to Paige and Brenda. Maybe I should start taking this writing thing--real writing, that is--seriously. Meanwhile, I'll be around on the purl side.

Dear Knitters: I'm (semi) Famous

2006-08-05T10:04:00.000-07:00

Many thanks to Brenda Dayne of Cast On, the penultimate* podcast for knitters. I submitted this piece to her and received such a positive response that I almost wept. It is really something to be recognized by one of the foremost knitters, writers, and podcasters this internet-world has seen. Go listen to her entire episode at Cast-On dot Com; you can hear my scratchy, melodramatic voice on Episode 32: Gwlana (Woolgathering).

*Commenter EvelynWood was kind enough to tell me the meaning of penultimate: next to last. Clearly, this is not what I thought it meant. I THOUGHT it meant extremely the bestest ever, and I am glad someone had the guts to tell me about my fox paws (faux pas). It is important to remain humbled in these events, and do the best one can to educate herself. Thanks, Miss Wood. I shall remember this word in the future, and use it correctly.

A Sense of Place
For: Brenda Dayne's Cast-On Season Three

The summer has been cruel. The gardens in Atlanta have mopped over in submissive posture, and the daisies I planted a month ago are wilting in the terra cotta pot. There is simply not enough rain this summer; I mourn for the thirst of the flora. The heat is oppressive; it reeks of fossil fuel and Freon. A perpetual haze of industry and traffic hangs about the whole city and even up into the rural hills of North Georgia.

It is this horrid heat that keeps me indoors all day long. I step outside to water my plants or to run to my air conditioned car; otherwise, I am isolating myself from the tangible evidence of destruction humans wreak on the world. As I work from home, and call clients, and do the dishes or email friends, I become more and more alone. The house is quiet except for the whirr of the fan and the unction of the air conditioning unit. Inside my lonely sanctuary, I turn the coffee pot on and sip black brew in freezing air, willing the outdoor heat away. Summers were never meant to be lonely days. Summer used to be a time for swimming, long walks at the park, cocktail parties and cookouts. Now, summer is just a horribly long intermission between the gentler seasons.

And so, I remain trapped in this suburban heat, and surround myself with yarn. No summer weights for me, thank you. I work with fuzzy alpaca, softest wool, even cashmere. I work with the weights of fall and winter, of rosy cheeked children in autumn, snuggled in scarves and hats of warmth. I work these fibers as an incantation to myself: "It shall get cool, it shall get cool." In one summer, I've knitted three woolen hats, one mohair shawl, four or five scarves, and a vest. Of these items, only one is made of bright mercerized cotton. The rest lie about my home in shades of blue, the color of rain on a child's drawing, the color of coolness, and the color of water.

In the early morning, I sip my coffee and listen to the relaxing strings of Samuel Barber. Beneath the fan, I lay my project out on my lap and finger the fibers of the chilled seasons. As my needles click along with an adagio or sonata, I can no longer hear the air conditioning work, or see the haze of pollution hanging over this non-descript suburb of Atlanta. I am transported to a place of tallest oak trees and ochre leaves. I have disappeared into a realm of windy forests and brown landscapes--the landscapes of winter. So convinced of my fancy, I wrap a scarf about my neck and breathe into the knit, remembering the December chill of childhood, of robust laughter and white exhalations, clinging to the molecules of coldness.

I am most productive at knitting in the summer. Knitting is a prayer for the earth, for my town, for my neighbors. Knitting is at the heart of my concern for the environment; without the cold, we are without need for knits. Rather than this place shaping my knitting, I see that knitting shapes my place. It helps me remember this land is worth salvaging, the flora worth watering. So, perhaps, after I finish this row, I'll step outside and face the sun, and tell the still blanket of hot air to dissipate. Fall is on its way, and with fall will come the stockpiled scarves of summer.

Dear Knitters

2006-07-13T04:02:00.000-07:00

The Destruction of the Shrug, Accompanied by the Lyrics of The End, composed by Jim Morrison and the Doors.

This is the end
Beautiful friend
This is the end
My Only Friend, the End

Of our elaborate plans, the end
Of everything that stands, the end
No safety or surprise, the end
I'll never look into your eyes...again

C'mon baby and take a chance with us
and meet me at the back of the blue bus
Doin' a [sic] blue frog
On a blue bus

kill, kill, kill, kill, kill, kill
This is the end.

*This is what I get for taking a chance with gauge and sticking all this damn yarn on too small of a needle. Bah. I'm ripping it all out and starting over. This is a first true frogging. I mourned for a little bit, and then plunged back in.
But only after listening to The End while I ripped it all out.

Dear Knitters

2006-07-10T05:23:00.000-07:00

I have got to find another way to display my finished objects without completely making a fool of myself. So far, engineering self-portraits involves me, a mirror, a camera, and a squinty look of self-loathing. Ach.
Regardless, here is the drop stitch vest in its completion. Now, it didn't turn out as nice as the book's picture, but that's okay. I did it. I finished that stockinette and I lived to tell you about it. There are lots of mistakes in this vest, mostly because I have no idea what 'reverse shaping' means.
Thanks to Paige for coming to the rescue on that.

Holy crap my boobs look huge, yes?
Anyway, this wasn't DELIGHFUL to knit, entirely, but I can say that for the very first piece of clothing, I am more than pleased. I might actually pull this knitting thing off believably.

Onward to the shrug. One day, I'm going to put all this stuff on at once: scarves, shawls, vests, shrugs and hats. I'll be the knitted fairy godmother.

And what is knitting without a work station? Here, you can see the lovely needle holder my good friend and fellow SnB'er crafted for me. She is an incredible seamstress, so this needle pouch means so much to me, as it is useful, pretty, and from a friend.

Now: I'm going back to the vest just to tidy up those last few spots....

Cheerios!

Dear Knitters

2006-07-08T08:10:00.000-07:00

Clearance Yarn is clearly not a bad thing!

Last week, I went to a very trendy knitting shop in the oh-so-fabulous Buckhead district of Atlanta--tres expensive, tres overrated. The owner was overbearing and unfriendly. While I was knitting a test swatch, she grabbed it from me and asked, "WHAT are you doing?" and tore out all my stitches and did it herself. Because I'm a tight knitter.

After buying sale yarn (the sale yarn price was not disclosed to me until I reached the register, and by then, I was so fearful for my life that I threw the card at her and begged for mercy), I was out $132.

Yes. That was sale price. Mmmhmm. The most expensive shrug known to man, made by me, in 'sale yarn'. I was so disgusted with the entire process of buying yarn at a 'Buckhead Betty' establishment, I was led to...JoAnne's Fabrics for relief.

Ahhhhh. Clearance rack. Say it with me, knitters.
CLEARANCE RACK.

There's nothing wrong with it. It actually feels--liberating! Freeing! Cheap!
For twelve bucks, I got four skeins of funky, chunky, mostly wool-y yarn.

And it became this wonderful scarf for my mother! (Now, of course, my mother DESERVES ultra gorgeous cashmere, silk, mohair, alpaca, beaver, angora...and she'll get all those, one day. For now, however, she shall be the receipient of fun yarn).
Of course, Delilah had to check out the scarf to make sure it was of decent quality. She approved with a sniff.
Even better, this project distracted me from that damn Stockinette drop-stitch vest consuming all of my patience, free time, and hope. I finished this in under four hours. I suppose this means I need to get that vest done, but at least I have something to show you folks.

Please remember: we can be fiber snobs, and we can be knitting snobs. But we cannot forget the worth of a lot of string for a little cash. When you see sale yarn you love, grab it. Have fun. And don't fear acrylic blends.

Dear Knitters

2006-06-26T06:39:00.000-07:00

Bitchin'! Stitch n' Bitchin'!
Thanks to my dear SnB'er, Miss Paige, I've got myself the front of a vest. A drop stitch vest. Oh, and how lovely it is to have four...FOUR...extra skeins left over after I've completed this thing. Whee! More stash!

Another lovely thing about this vest (well, this half of this vest) is that half of it (perhaps this half?) was purchased by Michael. Yes, that's right. Not only does Michael help me indulge in this passion, but he accompanies me TO YARN STORES and PURCHASES YARN FOR ME.
I've had some women hit on him at these stores, but I'm very territorial of my man. He will not get away.

I realize the idea of this vest if very simple. Drop a stitch. Let it fall. The unravelling of the stitch makes this vest sexy and cool and funky and pretty. The cotton shimmers a bit and inspires me to imagine myself in bows and ribbons and all that is feminine. Again, I'm struck with this knitting magic. I do not really understand any of this. It's just mystical for me; I can't explain decreases, bind-offs, increases, shoulders, reversing (well, that's just a big bungle for me). It just happens as I go. Or, not. But here she is: my first (half) of a real piece of clothing.

I'm excited. Are you?

Dear Knitters

2006-06-20T20:21:00.000-07:00

Warning: I shall be waxing poetic in following epistle. Hold on to your strands.

Mercerized cotton is something to fear. It is light; probably considered a sportweight and not a bulky or sock weight. It is not something one knits on large needles. It is slippery and shivering and it takes HOURS to knit up 108 yards of the stuff in Stockinette stitch. Sure, sure, I know the definition of mercerized, and you can read about it here. Very informative. But I think mercerized is merely a code word for Patience.

I began knitting because it looked like something people enjoyed doing, for whatever reason. I thought perhaps it was the community that knitting has inspired; I wanted to gain more friends through knitting. And I have.

Through those first awkward days of holding the needles like a child holding a pen for the first time, and through the uneven stitches of my first swatch, I thought about what I was doing and couldn't wait to complete a project--a whole, entire project!--and show it to others, so that while they oooh-ed and aaaah-ed over the fabric, I could beam and say, "I made it myself!"
And then, I finished the first project--and was dismayed. It looked horrible. It's nothing I can wear in public seriously. It has holes and dropped stitches and uneven ribs and ghastly bumps everywhere. So, if I did say anything like "I made it myself!" it would sound more like a plea for pity.

But I keep knitting.

As the weeks have passed, I have made with reasonable success a shawl and two hats. I have succeeded in making a lace capelet but I hated the end result so much that I frogged the entire thing (rippit! rippit!) and sigh often, thinking about the yarn that is currently sitting in my yellow plastic bag housing my stash.

These finished products are no Vogue cover, I assure you. They are well-followed instructions, merely--kind enough to fall into the pattern intended. I do not think people shall be stopping me on the street to inquire "WhereEVER did you buy such a GORGEOUS shawl?" However, the shawl will keep me warm. So, I am successful, yes?

I have decided to try my hand at something a bit more complicated. Not much, mind you. I can't go near double pointed needles anytime soon without getting an image of one jumping up and sticking me in the eye. Socks are not in my future. No, this is a vest--a cute little pattern of a thing found in the SnB Nation (the same culprit that convinced me to attempt the Spiderweb Capelet). It calls for nine skeins of mercerized cotton on size five needles. I moved up to size six.

It's taking forever.

In three days, I have not yet knit up one ball. I have seven inches of Stockinette stitch. At the very bottom corner, I somehow put an eyelet in and the hole is quite visible. Three inches up from that, I dropped two stitches and attempted to weave them back in, making a very obvious botched attempt at correcting the problem. I'm too lazy to go back and fix those stitches properly, so the fabric has wiggled a bit at that edge. I'm hoping seaming will fix this. Throughout the fabric, there are little slubs where I either lost tension or changed some small part of my routine--only noticeable in bright light. My hands hurt after working for an hour or so, because of the small needles. I have very little confidence in my ability to pull this off. So why do I persist?

Because I am finding that I do not knit for the sake of completing a beautiful product. I knit because I am looking for peace. And this activity brings it to me. I knit myself into Zen, truly. The other day, I was sitting in silence, watching the litany of my hands weave this slippery, shiny cotton, and I began to fall asleep even as I knit. This is a state I have only read of in transcendent Buddhist philosophy. I had to shake myself before I saw a lotus flower in my purls.

I knit because I have bonded with a woman I have never met. I knit because I have met three wonderful women who I already consider dear friends even though I have known them less than two months. I knit because strangers email me about sales on Addi Turbos. I knit because I am creating a story of peace as I weave one strand with another, over and over and over. I knit, therefore, I am.

So: if the day ever comes that I create a flawless fabric that shimmers against my skin perfectly, and cries out "art d'object!" and gathers crowds of admirers, I will be pleased momentarily. When I finish this vest, with its slubs and holes and dropped stitches, and I press it against my skin, it's pink, pink shine smiling in spite of itself, I will merely be glad to know I possessed the patience and peace needed for mercerized cotton.

And then, I shall begin to knit anew.

My very own lotus flower....

Dear Knitters

2006-06-15T05:09:00.000-07:00

Well. It finally happened. The first failed project, sans pictures. I wasn't going to go that low.
I was not going to document my failings in PICTURES.

Remember that Merino Frappe my dear Stuntmother sent me for a gift? Remember how it would make a capelet? A capelet from Stitch N' Bitch Nation? Remember how I wondered if I could do it, being a knewly knitter?

Well, there's good news: I CAN do it.

The bad news: I finished it. And I absolutely hated it. Firstly, it would have fit a three year old. All right, strike that. It would have fit a slender, medium framed woman. Not a size twelve woman with shoulders like a Nebraska farmer. Not a woman who is prideful of her neck muscles, and flexes them with might. Nope. It looked like a doily collar on me.

(sigh). I'm putting this wondeful Merino Frappe away. I am disgraced and ashamed. I don't know what to do with it. I hope Stuntmother will forgive me. After all. She got me into this new passion. Surely, she can't hold it against me too long.

She's just a space diva of knitting.

Meanwhile, I'm working on a surprise for one of my favorite bloggers out there--Spinning Girl. Get ready. It's not all that exciting, but who doesn't like little gifts of yarn? I sure do. Hopefully, she will, too!

Edit: Numerous knitting podcasts have evidenced something of great import:
Knitting snobs exist. And oy, are they ever pervasive.
We need podcasts for new knitters. And we need to incorporate knitters who are POOR. And haven't heard all about this eclectic stuff. And aren't necessarily living and breathing the northeastern blue blood lifestyle.
(I'm allowed to say that--Grandma is a registered Daughter of the Revolution).
Grumble, grumble. This knitter is going back to her plain ol' boring yarn surprise for Spinning Girl. I feel incredibly inadequate.

Dear Knitters

2006-06-08T04:57:00.000-07:00

I am on a knitting roll. Delilah helped model this fabulous mohair shawl with ladder yarn embellishments. Now, I realize that it simply looks like a blanket shaped like a triangle. Yes, astute knitters, I understand that is what a shawl is...but there is no pattern involved in this. This project was simply a first 'big piece of wearable yarn' project, but I do believe I was wise in choosing mohair in Foxy Fuschia as my medium. As one can observe, the cat is enthralled by it, and has claimed it as her own. Ah! I shall wrest it back from her without delay...this is to be my 'honeymoon snuggle shawl'. I cannot wait to drape it over my shoulders in the evenings at St. Lucia.

I was concerned that it would not be large enough for my frame, as I have rather broad shoulders and not a little bit of bosom. As it turns out, this shawl drapes around my waist with plenty of give for adjustments. Should I lose more weight, I'll be able to wrap it even closer. I'm simply delighted that the bottom tassle falls just beneath my bum, creating a tail for me to swish, and keep bugs away. I'll pose in it later, and have Michael take a picture, but for now, I am DONE with this particular project and will be moving along to something else.*

*perhaps the capelet, Stuntmother?

Dear Knitters

2006-06-06T11:48:00.000-07:00

What does this look like to you? Hmmm? Does it look like.....RIBBING???Well, it is, thankyouverymuch. It is ribbing. And it is absolutely perfect. But wait! Wait! There's MORE!
It's a freakin' HAT. By Goly I finished knitting an entire HAT. Sure it only took me about ninety tries before I got the pattern established but hey! Who's counting?? Not me, that's for sure, knitters. That's for sure. (Could my nose look any bigger in that picture? And where did the rest of my face go? That's wierd).
It's actually a hat for Michael, but he wasn't around to model. However, he does love it, so not only was this my first ribbing, my first hat, but also my first gift for someone else. All and all, I'm impressed. Just don't look too close at the center--you'll see the cinch point. Otherwise...

...This Hat is a Wrap!

Dear Knitters

2006-05-31T15:15:00.000-07:00

The hat was frogged. It was frogged because it was jumping around on my needles. I cannot stitch ribs because I haven't the patience to figure it out. I hope, in time, this shall come. I cannot finish said hat because the yarn was not appropriate, even though Guru Knitter at LYS assured me it would be. And so: The hat has become a scarf. It would appear that this will either be a very short scarf or I will have to just go and get another ball of this stuff. I'm having a blast with this scarf, though, because it is of my own imagination. I'm YO'ing, SKSing, and drop stitching to my heart's content. It's random, crazy, and a heck of a blast to make on my new Addi Turbo needles. So, all is not lost, fellow knitwits. All is not lost.
The good news is: In the hat department, I have renewed faith, as I have purchased four skeins of this gorgeous Kuryeon alternative, which shall make TWO hats. Now. I must buckle down and practice rib stitches. I'm good with K1, P1, but not so good when we get into multiples. Much like fourth grade math, I seem to lose attention, and how! Ah, well, the yarn is soft and the colors are beautiful, and I have enough. By the by, my yarn stash moved from one bag to two and half in under a week. This is a problem. A very serious problem.
Do not be dismayed! Progress is being made on the mohair shawl. Yes, it is quite simple: I'm just doing 1 YO on every row and then a garter stitch. However, my excuse for such ease is the fuzziness of mohair. Any pattern would be lost in this fabu fabric. Ah! You can also take a peek at my gift from fellow Stitch N Bitcher. It's that thick and quick wool, easy to practice on and soft as a baby's head. I'll practice ribbing, I think. Yes. Ribbing. That's it.
I am finding that my cat has the same passion for natural fibers as I do--when I asked her about a wool cat harness, though, she simply looked at me askance. Little brat.

Yours,
Fritz

Dear Knitters

2006-05-29T16:14:00.000-07:00

Crisis Situation.

I've ribbed. Yet, I've seeded. Yes, it has all gone to seed. Or something. Because there ARE no ribs. It's just...blahech.

I would take a picture of this hat, but I'm too embarrassed. And how is this one ball supposed to take care of the whole hat? I READ the gauge. I READ the yarn measurements. No-i-did-not-do-a-test-swatch-for-gauge--just hush. Anyway.

I need another job to support my new yarn habit.

(PS: Sweaters scare me; I think I will live by scarves, alone).

This is a rib stitch

This is a moss stitch

And this is my brain on knitting. Any questions?

Dear Knitters

2006-05-27T11:02:00.000-07:00

I am coming to understand something.
I hate ribbing.

After viscerating a hat* nearly a dozen times (pattern from Caps and Hats Two, Vogue) I believe I have figured out the sequence of K4, P4. Of course, if it were only that simple! No, no, knitwits, we must make sure they ALIGN properly, and don't add any stitches while we're at it. My eyes have gone cross with staring at 'v's' and 'bumps'. Michael has been relegated to cleaning out the garage while I repeat my rosary aloud: "KNIT (one) KNIT (two) KNIT (three)..."

I suppose I am beginning to understand the rite of contrition with all this. There is a somber, meditative quality to praying aloud to the Knitting Gods. However, that peace is blown when I get to the end of a row and it doesn't match with the last. So back I go, casting on all 106 stitches again.

This is the first time I've worked with Noro's Silk Garden yarn. I've heard rave reviews about this stuff. I don't know if it's my needles, my taut yarn, or my grip on the slack but I HATE THIS STUFF. It seems far too stiff. Not forgiving.

All is well, dear knitters. When my eyes extricate themselves from their sockets, I will simply put this hat down and go back to the Mohair shawl. It's much more mindless and soothing.

For now, though, I leave you with my mental mantra...
(PURL one PURL two PURL three PURL four)

*hat: a loosely defined term for approximately four rows of knitting that took Fritz over two hours to achieve.

Dear Knitters

2006-05-26T13:06:00.000-07:00

I couldn't afford the therapy so I picked up the knitting habit.
Let's blame it all on Stuntmother; I kept seeing her fantastic work over at Two Sharp Sticks. So I picked up some yarn, and have unravelled into a mess of a knitter.

This was three weeks ago. I'm simply hooked.

But enough with the crochet-cliches: as this is my new knitting blog, I'll begin by underlining a wishlist. Because I'm new at this. So, I need stuff.

Addi Turbo Circular Needles
My Own Yarn Stash
(Because I never know where I am at any given moment...) Stitchmarkers
Loop-d-Loop by Teva Durham
Begin a cult like The Anticraft*
Needle Holder
and just about any yarn from
The Whole Nine Yarns (my local LYS**)

*(theoretical? yes. but totally within keeping of my character)
**trendy knit speak for 'Local Yarn Shop'. I'm allowed to use these kinds of acronyms because I am a knitter. Most usually, I frown on acronyms, emoticons, or excessive use of any punctuation...except the eclipse. And that, I abuse.