Too Much Wool

not mysterious at all

Yesterday I closed the comments. I needed a day off and I didn't have time or energy to deal with comments, so I closed them. I'm not sure how many people noticed, but I did get a few emails from close friends about it. Five emails, one phone call. Y'all know who you are.

I'm tired. I'd like to blame it on a yarn crawl and all the wild and crazy fun Laurie and I had for two days straight in Manhattan, but ...... I honestly think I'm just fighting off the new fall bug that's got everyone a little under the weather. Besides, visiting yarn stores and buying sock yarn generally doesn't wear me out very much. And long talks with friends is more envigorating than tiring, so that's not it either.

I'm blaming the changing seasons/weather and maybe a touch of existential malaise too.

I haven't knit for two days. I haven't spun for a week. When I lie down in bed I've been thumbing through my new Nancy Bush book and falling asleep dreaming of new sock projects. But not actually starting them. Just doing the late night dreaming/planning for new projects that works kind of like counting sheep for me these days.

I might as well reveal the 'mystery project' and explain myself a little. It's easier than building the whole thing up to some kind of giant mysterious Big Deal.

I'm knitting the Meandering Cables Cardigan Vest from Countrywool. I'm using Lamb's Pride in Medieval Red.

I'm not promising anything for this project - no timeline. I've been enjoying the process of it immensely, and it's been a very relaxing knit, so far. I'm about to split the knitting in the round for the armholes. It's gone very quickly and I love the fabric I'm creating.

The reason why I haven't wanted to blog about it is that I don't want the pressure to finish it for Rhinebeck. I have more than enough time to do it, but just want to enjoy the process and not to push myself past the edge of enjoying it. If I don't do this for myself, then there's no point in doing it at all. I know myself well enough to know that blogging something can just kill it for me. And the pressure to finish something by a deadline...... worse than a death sentence.

If I set myself up with some kind of deadline, I'm going to lose the fun of it. I'm not a competetive person - never have been. I've finished several shawls that I'm very happy with, and if needs be, I'll wear one of them to Rhinebeck. And if I can't enjoy my knitting, and not feel pressured, I've got nothing to blog about, other than whining. And 'no pressure' was, ironically, why I started knitting in the first place.

Just for perspective - all of you out there with the toddlers and the little ones who wear you out - one of the perks of having a (fantastic) teenager was dessert last night.

Homemade apple pie. Almost half demolished, and very very good.

closed

I'm taking a day off.

a few of my favorites

So, my friend Laurie is in town visiting. I've done the usual tourist stuff, for my MIL and assorted in-laws, which I don't really enjoy all that much. So on Tuesday I decided to take Laurie and her guy to a few of my favorite places in the city.

First, we had coffee and such at a little place (Teany, to be precise) with quite excellent tea and snacks. Teany teas have cropped up all over NYC but I hadn't been to the cafe yet. Definitely worth a go.

Then we walked down to the Tenement Museum. You have to know, this is hands down my favorite place to bring people. As a matter of fact, its one of the very few cultural institutions that I'm a card-carrying member of. The museum is an old (tenement) building on Orchard Street that was occupied from the 1870s through 1935, and was then empty for about 50 years before they turned it into a museum. They found out about actual families that lived in the building, via census records, and have recreated a typical period apartment for each one. There are a couple of tours, each one showing two restored apartments.

It helps that my great grandparents immigrated to NYC and lived on the lower east side, so I can totally identify with the stories of the immigrants, and the actual neighborhood of the museum (my great grandparents lived a short walk away). The mission of the museum is really admirable; I love that they make an effort to point out the immigrant roots of basically everyone who lives here. And that they make a point of promoting understanding and tolerance of new and current immigrants. For a perfect example of intolerance of new immigrants, go read Iris's post from yesterday. (Please, really, go read it.) I read it after coming home from the museum and was really struck by the fact that this was exactly the type of attitude that the Tenement Museum is trying to deal with.

And then there was shopping.

Ironically, we walked uptown to Downtown Yarns. Where I do believe I bought more than Laurie did (at the very least, I know that I spent more money). I got Trekking in the prosaically named Shade 105. While not as coveted as the legendary Shade 100, it suits me just fine.

We then continued our trek (ha ha) even further uptown to The Strand. Where I managed to score a knitting book I didn't have yet (half price, people, you can't beat that) and where Laurie... well....

I took Laurie to the cookbook section of the store. After her eyes bugged out of her head a little and she picked up her fallen jaw from whereever it had dropped, it seemed like she had some fun. And I have to tell you, it struck me that anyone who could get as excited as I do about a giant selection of cookbooks at half price is really the best kind of friend to have. Because who else are you going to drag along to do that kind of thing?

failure of my imagination

Has anyone noticed yet (besides the people with inside knowledge of the matter) that I've been knitting but not showing pictures of knitting?

I made reference the other day to a project 'for Rhinebeck' but I haven't shown it yet. Those with whom I knit [if that's proper English, its still damn awkward to say] have seen the mystery project. I think at least one of them pronounced it good. Maybe even 'nice' (which unfortunately is a four letter word in my world but that's an entirely different matter). I'm working steadily on the Unnamed Project.

I have my reasons for not talking about it, and they are Very Real and Very Serious (I feel like either the Velveteen Rabbit or Winnie-the-Pooh). But in the meantime I would like to talk about the realizations I've had while knitting on the Unnamed Project. Setting myself up, in case we need a 'Tomb of the Unnamed Project' in the future. I think that would work out well, don't you?

I started a large-ish project because I thought to myself, "Damn, if i can knit around and around on a pair of socks with 60-70 sts per round, why the hell don't I upsize the whole thing to size 7 needles and have something that fits over more than my foot?"

I see Norma knitting on her lovely Koigu sweater and making fast time. I see Cari, whipping out the Lopi sweater like a speed demon, and I'm impressed. Then I start a project, inspired by their speed, their productivity, and their ability to finish something that's not flat.

Why the hell doesn't it occur to me that they're knitting STOCKINETTE? Or better yet, what's wrong with me that it took me until I'm 10" into a project that stockinette might be faster? Like, a lot faster. Maybe its the reality that I detest stockinette stitch. That I have a 3/4 of the way done sweater on a chair in the other room, its stockinette stitch mocking me (its covered up with the Birch shawl to keep it quiet).

Because the project is pictured with buttons, it never, ever occurred to me that I could use clasps instead. In spite of the fact that I love clasps, hate buttons, and that there is an entire paragraph at the end of the pattern about 'if you choose to use buttons instead of clasps'... I have just proven I don't read a pattern through to the end before starting. But in spite of that, I'd like to know why my imagination has failed to such an extent that I didn't see this as a possibility in the first place?

For those of you who live for pictures, I have something.

My progress on the Conwy socks continues. I've decided that the best way for me to keep going is to have both socks going at the same time and pretend that they're racing each other to the finish. As you can see, its been working out quite well. They're now neck and neck (or gusset and gusset) and I haven't set them aside yet.

Imaginary sock races? Maybe its not a failure of my imagination, maybe its more like I need a reality check.

down, up, and up again

At first I felt sorry for myself. This weekend was Stitches East, in New Jersey, and I wasn't going. It didn't help that I got several emails from friends who were going asking about meeting up with me or telling me to have fun. Me? Nope. Not me. I won't be there. Missing out on all the fun.

But then I got to hang out with some good friends and have fun on Saturday with some visiting bloggers. We ate, we swapped yarn (this was actually going to be a whole post on the virtues of yarn swapping), and it was good.

The short version of the yarn swapping story: we all showed up with yarn we'd fallen out of love with. Piled it on a table (pictures, folks? where are the pictures?) and then in a totally civilized manner we picked things we liked from the pile to take home. I went with yarn I no longer cared for and came home with yarn I love. Even some (shhhh!) cotton, for a baby sweater.

The downside to a yarn swap? To find yarn to swap, you must go through your stash. Going through shelves, closets, bins, etc and truly surveying what you have accumulated tends to be a bit ... shocking. The result is that when you go to pick yarn, even from a giant free pile of it, you still have a fresh memory of what you've got at home. This isn't necessarily a bad thing, and does reduce the gimme factor quite a bit. At any rate, I came home with some lovely Brooks Farm wool/mohair that should keep me out of trouble in at least one booth at Rhinebeck. whew.

Okay, now to the interesting stuff.

While the entire rest of the blogiverse (the ones not at Stitches) were on the Knitty cruise on Sunday, I managed to score what I think is a prettydamncool old knitting book at a local used bookstore. [Odd Cassie factoid: I spend more time in used bookstores than I do in yarn stores. Just think about that.]

The book is Knitting and Sewing by Maud Churchill Nicholl

It was published in 1918, and online information on it is scarce. The subtitle of the book is: How to Make Seventy Useful Articles for Men in the Army and Navy.

The book was written during World War I and is geared towards items for the troops. Her husband, Delancey Nicholl, wrote the introduction and begins by explaining that at the start of the war she went to nursing school, and was 'in service' in England, but was hit by a car and spend much time in her bed convalescing thereafter. I'm going to liberally quote from the introduction:

During her long convalescence she devoted herself to knitting and sewing for the soldiers and sailors. Many of her friends among them were constantly coming and going, and from them she learned at first hand just what their needs were, and in what articles they found the most comfort.

She then decided to put the result of her experience in a book,in the hope
that it might be useful to others who were knitting and sewing, or willing to knit and sew, for the cause, feeling that in that way she could make her largest contribution to the comfort and welfare of the boys at the front.

The book is an odd combination of British and American yarns, terminology, and cross referencing. The only color plates are those at the front of the book with "Illustrated wools. Actual size and color" - the illustration on the front cover is part of one of the plates on the inside, showing the plies, the colors, and the "actual size" along with the names of the yarns used. The needle sizes in the book are British, with a B&W plate of a Walker Bell Gauge at the end of the book for reference.

"Balaclava Helmet" page 23-25

There are black and white pictures of each of the knitted items, along with the knitting instructions for each (followable, but assuming quite a bit of basic knitting knowledge by our standards).

The fascinating part of all of this to me is the idea that, at one point in time (through at least three wars that I know of - Civil War and WWs I and II) civilians knitted clothing items for soldiers. Even more fascinating is the idea that this woman, an American living in England, published a book of patterns for soldiers' hats, caps, 'mufflers' (scarves), socks and specialty mittens (rifle mittens for infantry and "The 'Mellor' glove for mine-sweepers - for hauling in steel cables, ropes, nets, etc."). And that that book could have passed more or less forgotten and ungoogleable into a place far beyond anyone's memory.

It kind of makes me wonder what the world was like when there was a war that a whole country could get behind. Although I'm almost seduced by the idea of the folks left back at home knitting for the boys at the front, and the unity of purpose and ideals that it represents. However, being more or less a pacifist, I tend to be a little cynical about the whole thing. And I'm not old enough to have been around for a war that I could consider "just".

for Sandy

for Sandy, from Olana, a few weeks ago. A little late.

But we've got the sky, and the Hudson river....

in my dreams

I dreamed that there was a red Aran afghan by the side of a country road. I can see clearly in my mind the cable patterns that ran from one end to the other. The first time I passed by it was lying in the dirt. The second time I saw it, someone had draped it in a tree that stood on a hill next to the road. The blanket was dusty from the dirt on the road, and seemed faded by the sun and the wind.
[Yes, I actually had a dream about an abandoned handknit afghan.]

9:30pm yesterday

All week long I've contemplated how to say that I have nothing to say. My friends know that I complain on an almost daily basis that I don't know what I'll write about on the blog, and I constantly threaten to skip a day (and yet I never do it).

Right now I feel scattered. I've started two pairs of socks in less than a week, making great headway on neither pair. And then yesterday I started another project, ostensibly 'for Rhinebeck' but realistically, I don't know how long its going to take me to finish.

I'm irrationally sidetracked by the hurricane. I lived in Texas (Dallas and Houston) for two years; Jon lived there for ten years. My daughter was born in Texas. Admittedly, I hated everything about the place and the weather but the two weeks of spring that happen around February, when the bluebonnets are everywhere. There's nothing quite like spring in Texas.

For thought.

truly compulsive, or how I amuse myself

So, I blogged about the new Nancy Bush sock book the other day. It's always fun being the first on your blog/block to have a new toy or book or pattern. And then the excitement or novelty or newness wears off and everyone and their nonblogging aunt has the pattern/yarn/book and the thrill is gone. (In other words, it only pays to stay ahead of the curve if you're easily amused.)

Nancy Bush's Knitting on the Road was my all time favorite sock book. I did things like make lists of the yarns used, the gauges for all the socks in the book, and which yarns would substitute well for the specified yarns for each pattern. And now, we have the new book.

I mentioned that I had the yarns called for (in different colors) for the socks in the new book that I considered 'must knit' projects. I decided to make a list of the yarns used for all the projects in the new book - to see if my stash was in any way deficient.

Five patterns call for Footpath, four call for Lornas Laces (solids, yay!), and three for Gems Pearl (the fingering weight). Two each call for Heirloom Argyle and St. Ives. Then there are the odd ones - Shaefer Anne, Jaeger Merino 4 ply, Mountain Colors Weavers quarters, and Fortissima/Socka. And guess what? I have at least one color of everything I listed above, wtih the possible exception of St. Ives (but that I have color cards for) and Jaeger 4ply (I have DK).

One of my favorite things about Knitting Vintage Socks is that there are a range of patterns for men, women and children. Of the 24 patterns in the book, fifteen are for women, seven for men, and two are for infants/children. Some could go either way, as there are smaller men's socks that could fit women as well. My favorites are the pattern for an adult women with a "shapely" calf and the full length stocking pattern that is more or less dedicated to reenactors and people in the SCA.

Of course, in the midst of all this obsessing, I cast on for ... the most boring sock in the book. The "Gentleman's Plain Winter Sock With Dutch Heel".

There are menfolk and they need mansocks. I'm trying out two circs again, for all the suckinette stockinette in the pattern. It scares me when the ribbing is the 'fun' part. I needed something for the subway, not being fond of turning heels or picking up gusset stitches (which is where I am on the Conwy socks) on a moving subway car.

I did manage to pick up another sock book as well. If you're surprised, you haven't been paying a lot of attention. It's Sensational Knitted Socks by Charlene Schurch. It's a totally different kind of book, with charts to knit any sock in the book at any gauge and with a variety of sock sizes to choose from. There are many charts. Pages of charts. This could be very handy for those who have hard-to-fit feet or just want to work with stash yarns without trying to match yarn-to-patterns obsessively. The way some people do.

Top ten reasons why....

The top ten reasons why I don't need a handknit sweater for Rhinebeck:

• sweaters are so very 20th century

• there is no time to knit a sweater in the next month.

• no one would believe that I knit it anyway

• my shawls would feel left out of the fun if they didn't get to go

• I have tradition to uphold. This will be my third Rhinebeck w/o a sweater.

• I don't wear sweaters as outdoor gear. Never have.

• I may hit menopause soon and won't need a sweater while having hot flashes

• Everyone else will be wearing sweaters. It would get lost in the crowd.

• I stand a better chance of being anonymous if no one knows what I'll be wearing.

• _________________________________________________
  

misplacement

I lost yarn.

For almost four days, I had a frantic and paranoid fear that things here had gotten so totally out of control in the stashing department that I had actually disposed of or actually lost a skein of yarn.

If it had been a skein of something I had thought that maybe I had bought, but couldn't quite remember, I probably would have given up the chase earlier. There are things I've bought, then returned. Things I've thought about buying. Things I've bought and then gifted away when I fell out of love with them.

This, however, was no imaginary yarn. This was the second skein that I needed to finish the pair of Whitby socks I posted about the other day. I had bought two skeins to make a pair of socks. I knew I had. But after a couple of days of looking I began to doubt myself. Seriously doubt myself.

It took me several intensive sessions of stash-diving to go through all the places I thought the yarn might be hiding. I started with the bag of sock yarns, then went into the baskets that hold things recently bought and yarns for things in progress. Nada.

I searched a little harder. Into the bin of oddballs and the shelf of odds and ends - balls of things I've bought or wound up for swatching. Nothing.

In the process of going through tons of crap, I managed to find every single sock in progress that I've got here [anyone who wants a giggle: I found seven eight pairs of socks in progress, not including the cuff that I ripped out to liberate the needles]. My house is not a mess, but there is .... stuff. And lots of it. And like all the rest of you (except Laurie) I've got yarn tucked into corners and baskets and all kinds of shelving. All I was looking for was one measly little skein of DK wool.

I found lots of wandering sets of dpns and coralled them all into their tin (note to self: you don't have as many dpns for socks as you thought you did). I spent an hour going through my bulging pattern binder and taking all of the shawl patterns out. I decided it was about time I treated them right and I gave them a binder all their own. (Note: need more shawl patterns.)

In the process of my quest, over several days of sometimes frantic, but generally aggravated searching, I came to several conclusions.

• I don't want to ever again go through the major stash shelving when anyone I live with is home. They become horrified by the sheer volume.
• I have a lot of sock yarn.
• I have a LOT of red yarn. Looking for specific red yarn is like ...... I don't know. But its futile.

So, I finally found the errant yarn. It was nonchalantly hanging out in a basket of finished shawls, socks and scarves. There were two evil skeins of runaway yarn in there (both red, of course) and I have no idea what they were doing there.

Then I celebrated the rediscovery of the yarn by buying.....ummm. Nevermind.