Too Much Wool

no more emergencies

I was hoping I was going to come back today and show a finished pair of gray socks, but I can't. They're not finished yet. Its that silly stage of "just a few more rows until I can start the toe decreases but I have to try them on to gauge how long to make them" - and that's just not portable enough for me right now.

I mentioned yesterday my frustration with having yarn and one set of needles along all day but not being able to cast on a new sock for lack of proper needle sizes. I created a solution for my problem, to avoid it recurring in the future.

My handy little sock emergency kit. Excuse the straight pin - I didn't get it together to figure out what kind of closure I want on the tab that wraps around to keep it closed.

Here's a shot of it open, with the sock I started yesterday (Lorna's Laces in my standby feather and fan pattern). I put the top flap in to keep the needles from slipping out when I have it thrown in my bag.

And here's the picture of it fully open. Right now there's a 6" x 1" ruler, a set of 2.25mm needles, a small crochet hook, and a single 2.75mm needle that I mostly use for casting on. I have a darning needle pinned in, as well as a few extra coilless safety pins (I love those things with an insane and irrational passion). I also have a Clover thread snipper that will fit into one of the slots, if I want. Basically, it holds everything I need to take a sock from start to finish, without holding the yarn. It's a tool kit, if you will.

I considered making a few more, but then wondered if anyone would be interested. This kit was designed for me and my particular travel and knitting needs, and I don't know if it would be useful for anyone else.

That's about it. I'm hoping for some finished objects after the weekend. At least a pair of socks.

never was a girl scout

I had an incredibly productive day yesterday. I was a model of planning and efficiency, zooming like a rocket throughout NYC. I had a plan.

Wednesday was my day to run errands. I don't know what its like to live in the suburbs and zoom around in a car from one destination to another, miles away. But running around on a multi-errand day in NY probably gets you a lot more excercise, and almost nothing is ever next door to the other something you need to do. It takes time.

[I should also note that yet another downside to waking up at 5am is that almost nothing in NY opens before 10. Yarnstores open at 11 or 12 for the most part. Very inconvienent.]

Post office, bank, drugstore, return a pair of pants (buy another pair), housewares store, return a tie (buy another one), lunch was in there somewhere too. Grocery shopping, and of course a yarn store. The yarn store was to placate me so that I didn't feel stressed. Which I was before I left the house.

The plan involved doodling on a piece of paper with the list of things I was supposed to get done, and plotting a trajectory around town. I was efficient, precise, and very organized (not to mention a leetle bit compulsive about it - I get that way with lists).

As I was walking out the door, I thought that since I was going to spend quite a bit of time on the trains and buses all day (best thing that ever happened to the transit system here was the unlimited ride Metrocard), I should really grab some knitting. I looked around and realized that the gray socks were so close to done that they'd need trying on/measuring and really wouldn't provide me with much to do without taking both of them and a darning needle. So I grabbed a skein of sock yarn and a package of 2.25mm/1US needles as I ran out the door. This is one of the benefits of having a house full of sock yarn - you don't have to look very far in a pinch.

For the record, I hate the post office. If you've ever gotten a package from me, its a virtual miracle. I avoid it whenever possible, especially since I watched someone get arrested at my local PO for screaming at one of the postal employees. I always think that that could very easily have been me. So, while waiting at the PO yesterday morning, my first stop of the day (save the best for last and all that), I realized that I only had one size of knitting needles with me.

I always cast on for socks with a size larger (.5mm larger) needles than the ones I'm using for the body of the sock. and I very often do the first few inches of a sock with needles .25mm bigger than what I use for the ankles and feet. It makes for a more fitted sock, and having well-shaped calves doesn't force short socks on me if I use this trick. But I was there, in the wild, with one set of needles. One set of not very big needles.

Of course, there's a yarn store next door to my post office. It's one of the few things that keeps me in stamps on a regular basis. So I stopped in. They didn't have any 2.75mm/2US needles. Of course they didn't - I had bought the last couple of sets of Susan Bates size 2 dpns from them to make the gray socks. I was frustrated, and annoyed. Of course I had plenty of needles in that size at home, but .... I had a plan. And going back home and grabbing another set of needles would have interfered with everything. I couldn't even bring myself to buy a circular needle in that size, or straights. I have both at home and it just seemed wasteful. I figured I'd make do.

Got on the subway to go onto my next stop on the runaround. I tried casting on onto two needles held together. I've never liked this - its always too floppy for me. I ripped it immediately. Then I remembered the Nancy Bush trick from her new book, of casting on with a long tail cast on and yarn doubled. It creates a much stretchier cast on and I've used it on a couple of pairs of socks already, with nice results.

Of course, that didn't work either. Arrrrrrrrrgh.

So, I spent the entire day running around with a package of needles and a skein of sock yarn. Nothing to read, nothing to keep my hands busy. It's honestly amazing that I managed to do everything on the list (full disclosure - I skipped one errand). But I've thought before and was forced to think again about making myself a little emergency sock kit.

I have a sewing machine and know how to use it. I want my emergency sock kit to be small - just enough to hold two packages of sock needles, a pocket for some stitch markers and maybe a darning needle. All I could think about all day was the Girl Scout motto, Be Prepared. Because I surely wasn't.

randomish

Well, now that the coffee has kicked in I'm going to list some of the reasons why I didn't write a real post for today.

• Ridiculous new wakeup schedule. I've been waking up at 5am. This enables me to hear the very first birds sing in the morning, see the sunrise, and fall dead asleep at 10pm every night. I used to write my posts at 11pm. Oh, well.
• College stuff. My daughter is a senior in high school. Its the end of March. Need I say more?
• Stupid doctors. We had to cancel my grandmother's cataract surgery, scheduled for tomorrow, because of a UTI. She would plotz if she knew I mentioned this in public, but there's no chance she'll ever know. But yesterday kinda sucked. She's depressed. I'm angry. And there's not a damn thing I can do.
• Not that this is a reason for not posting, but I'm so far behind on reading other people's blog's (OPBs) that I can't keep up. This is annoying me. Last time I checked, I had over 1000 posts unread on Bloglines. So if you think I gave up on reading your blog, I didn't. I've just fallen so far behind that even if I'm reading I rarely comment. I have incredible guilt about this.

After quickly rereading this, I realize I sound a little grouchy. Just a little. So, in an effort to balance the scale, I'll try to post some things I'm happy about.

• Stephanie's new book. Good reading, fun, interesting facts. Keeps me happily occupied on the subway these days.
• The Woven Coverlets of Norway. Currently satisfying my urge to look at pictures of people wearing cute ethnic clothes. And its all about the fiberstuff. Very cool.
• The new Spin•Off. Spinning for socks - need I say more?
• Gray socks. 2.75mm/2US needles. Plain stockinette. Quick progress. For my sick uncle. (whoops, this was supposed to be happy)

• New coffeemaker. Which has nothing to do with waking up at 5am, but it sure does help.
• Having people email me and tell me how they're about to fall down the spinning rabbit hole, or that they've fallen down it headfirst. I love happy news like that.

of rabbit holes and such

I seem to have found another rabbit hole to fall into. It appears that there are many of them out here, just waiting to spirit away unwary and unsuspecting bloggers. The latest one is Beth's fault.

Last Monday when Beth and I were knitting up a storm together, she pulled out her sock-in-progress. You can see it at the top of this page - its the pinkish/red mottled one, knit in Opal Mosaic. I'd seen the sock on her blog, but was struck in person by its resemblence to the 'flammegarn' sock in Nancy Bush's Folk Socks book. Beth was actually the one who pointed it out on her blog, but the resemblance was more striking in person. (Or I was paying more attention in person, hard to say.)

Sock goddess, please do not strike me down for photographing a picture in a book.

The above picture is from Folk Socks by Nancy Bush - a pair of old Norwegian Flammegarn socks. If you don't have Folk Socks, go out and buy it. It's a wonderful book and the history pages alone are enough to make anyone want to knit socks. I've been obsessed with these socks since I first bought this book. As a matter of fact, I've spent time at several fiber festivals trying to talk Loranne Carey Block of Snow Star Farm into dying flammegarn yarn in red/madder (she once did an indigo and white version which can be seen in the book Sweaters from New England Sheep Farms).

So, anyway, back to the rabbit holes. No one in NYC sells Opal sock yarn. This has resulted in my having almost no Opal (note: I said almost - Emma sent me some for my birthday last year). Of course, I asked Beth where she bought her Opal (she was also wearing some Opal socks that day) and she kindly sent along some links.

Cue rabbit hole music.

One of the links was to a site with Opal, on sale. Now, I honestly thought I had matured at the grand olde age of 38 to the point where the words 'o-n s-a-l-e' no longer had the power to make me lose my cool anymore. Apparently not, because before I really knew what had hit me, I had proceeded to buy enough Opal to sink a ship keep me in socks for quite a while.

Totally irrational. Reprehensible, even. But please consider that I've got a mostly open blog policy on yarn here. While I probably don't blog every single thing I buy, I do blog a lot of it. Except when I'm embarrassed by it. Which in this case I'm not. Because sock yarn doesn't count, as we all know.

When I got home, I googled my way around. Precious little on flammegarn socks out there, but I did manage to find in an old post of Susan's a link to a tutorial (in pictures!) for dyeing flammegarn style yarn. Excellent tutorial. It makes it look easy.

So, now I have a choice. Wallow in the Opal that's on its way in the mail - though I suppose I have to wait for it to arrive before I can wallow. Or maybe get myself some dye-able yarn and try doing some dyeing to get what I really want. Though what I really want is dyed with madder, but I can probably manage that in a pinch.

At any rate, this is how one falls down a rabbit hole. You think and you obsess and you plan in your mind (sometimes for months or years, as in the case of Heirloom Knitting) and before you know it there's a hole under your feet and you've fallen in while your head was in the clouds. Because you weren't paying attention, while obsessing much about socks or shawls or yarns that don't exist in real life. Yet.

[A note to Lee Ann - I was talking about Alice in Wonderland-type rabbit holes, rather than "wedged bear in a great tightness" Winnie-the-Pooh rabbit holes. Not that there's really all that much difference, though.]

back to basics

I always need a few days off after finishing up a big knitting project. "Big project" being relative to the complexity and amount of effort I put into it. As much as I'd love to dive right in, cast on another shawl or pick up a WIP that's been languishing, I can never seem to do it. I seem to need a break or some kind of knitter's version of a palate cleanser before I can start on something else.

The River Rapid socks were my subway knitting during the nKnB shawl.

I've turned the heels and finished the gussets on both socks now. They've resumed their status as decent subway knitting. But this time around I really needed something simple. Or more simple. Like..... well, I hate to admit it. Like .... stockinette.

I was talking to Lene the other day, and she asked if I had a recipe for getting back into the groove of things after finishing up a project. I said that my fallback was always to pick up a pair of socks until some inspiration came along for the next project. I also asked her about Sisu (from Sandnes, a Norwegian company) which was a sock yarn I picked up locally but had never worked with. I knew she had worked with it before, and in the process of asking about needle sizes I mentioned that I had bought some not-exciting/boring plain gray Sisu.

Lene's reply really struck a chord with me. She said

Grey socks are  humble. Grey socks are only knit with humble hands for practicality. They don't brag, they perform their duty and warm up cold feet. Knitting grey socks is like a prayer in knitting... the act is so honest.

So, its back to basics for a while for me. Although I did fall down the rabbit hole on the Heirloom Knitting site over the weekend.

 

nKnB

The blocking went remarkably well. Remarkable considering how large the shawl is, and also considering how much angst went into the finishing.

I think blocking a square shawl with straight edges is easier than something with points, or scallops like a feather and fan pattern. I just threaded the blocking wires through the loops at the shawl edge, and pinned it out. Granted, it took me over an hour on the floor, but I had it done yesterday morning.

It measures 44" per side. I spent a lot of time with a very long tape measure, and although I resisted the urge to use a T-square on it, I did a lot of tweaking to get the sides even. I think that with a second set of hands/arms, I might have been able to get another inch or so in the blocking. I did the best I could by myself, and I think that although I didn't quite block the crap out of it, it was pretty much stretched to near full potential.

Then there was the issue of the modeled shot. I'm always the smartass in other people's comments who clamors for a modeled picture. Not having anyone around during daylight (and not being smart enough to use the timer feature on my camera), I had to make due with some evening pictures.

Please note: Jon takes the world's crappiest pictures of me. It disturbs me to no end, because we've been together for 19 years and if that's the best he can get out of me with a camera, it really makes me wonder how awful I look most of the time. On the other hand, it could just be that he's a really bad photographer.

Trust me, this is out of thirty photos, and these are the best.

The shawl is thin. Very thin. The yarn is a laceweight, heathered and coned yarn from Scotland. Obviously intended for machine knitting. The shawl isn't cobweb or gossamer weight, but now I'm curious what I'd get if I knit this yarn on larger needles. Its relatively dense, pattern and gauge-wise. With a more open pattern and larger needles, it could make an exquisitely fine shawl. (And yes, I have enough for another shawl. Or two.) I love that this shawl, although having some substance due to its being doubled, has no real weight or bulk to it.

The details:
Pattern: Kerry Blue Shawl from Traditional Knitted Lace Shawls by Martha Waterman.
Modifications: none (the errata for the pattern was corrected in my edition of the book)
Yarn: Coned Scottish wool (it says both 2/14 and 2/16 on the label)
Needles: a variety of 3.5mm needles, dpns and circular (all wood or bamboo)
Started: 11 March 2006
Finished: 22 March 2006
Size: 44" square

Other than the blocking, I did a little subway knitting on the River Rapid socks yesterday. Turned the first heel. My wrists are still touch and go after the crochet marathon, so I was very happy to find a copy of Stephanie's new book in my bookstore stalking travels yesterday. It gave me the opportunity to just sit and read in the evening, and rest my hands.

The C word

So, I woke up this morning in a bit of a fog. I honestly think I've got a crochet hangover.

Yesterday I finished up the last few rows of knitting on the nKnB shawl. I was delighted. Called an old friend to talk and crow about it, got up to stretch my legs a bit, and went searching for a crochet hook of the approximate size of the needles I had used for the shawl.

I've done crocheted edgings on shawls before. Hulda has one, and the Old Shale shawl was the most recent foray into crochet. But when I sat down, hook-in-hand and shawl-in-lap yesterday, my sense of accomplishment at finishing the pattern knitting went right out the window.

Crochet 3tog, chain 5, repeat. Easy? Sure. Six hundred and ninety six stitches worth of that? Oy vey.

I tried to pace myself. Sort of. I did about the first six inches then IM'd a friend for some distraction. I even took a picture, and it looked pretty good.

Six inches in, it was easy to not think about it too much. After a few hours, when I wasn't even halfway done, I actually stopped to clean the house. In some ways, this was logical - need to block shawl on floor, must vacuum. Sensible, right? In reality, I was so sick of crochet at that point that the vacuuming sounded like fun.

In the evening after supper, I sat down at it again. I figured I had hours until my normal bedtime, and I wasn't going to even think about blocking it at night. I just wanted it off the needles and to be able to see it stretched out. I had no real idea of the finished size, although I had a good ballpark estimate. After about two hours, my wrist was hurting. Yes, I got up, stretched, did different things. But crochet doesn't agree with my wrist, and I wasn't counting on the hours of it that this shawl needed.

At the end - that would be 11pm - I literally couldn't see straight. My eyes were tearing and I was yawning uncontrollably. I had to give up any hopes of blocking it overnight or even blogging anything about it before bed. I felt like I had just fought a battle.

However, its a battle I've won. And today, it gets blocked.

I just wanted to mention that I've been really tired at night, and today is the second day that I've tried blogging first thing in the morning. So far, its working out pretty well. I may try this out for a bit and see how it goes - I'm sharper in the morning, but there won't be a pre-dawn (in my time zone anyway) posting if I continue like this.

history

When I was little I only had one great grandmother in my life. Nonni wasn't actually a blood relative (I didn't find that out for many years), but she was a close part of a small family.

My biological great-grandmother died in the flu pandemic in 1918 (just in case anyone wondered where my paranoid fear of bird flu comes from, there ya go). My grandmother was a baby and never knew her. I won't go into the details of the somewhat sad childhood my grandmother had - this isn't the time for that story. But my grandmother grew up very close to her older sister, Jean.

Jean married first, to a nice Italian guy named Tony. They bought a house in Brooklyn and when my grandmother got married, she moved to an apartment across the street from her older sister and brother-in-law. Jean's mother-in-law lived with her and Tony in the house across the street. One of those classic extended family situations that used to be much more common than they are now.

Everyone called her Nonni. To be honest, I'd have to call someone to find out what her given name was. I'm not sure I've ever heard it. Nonni was from Trieste. I have no idea when she immigrated to the US. She wasn't the soft cuddly kind of great-grandmother either. I remember her as elderly, tiny, and somewhat severe. In an old world European kind of way. Her house always smelled of coffee and Stella D'Oro anisette cookies.

When my mom was growing up, my grandmother raising two young daughters in a small apartment, they spent a lot of time with Jean and Nonni, at their house across the street. As the story has been repeated to me over and over again, every day at 3pm my grandmother went to her sister's house. Her children (my mom and aunt) would go there directly from school, and the sisters and Nonni would knit and drink coffee.

My grandmother learned to knit from Nonni. She always speaks of her knitting with awe. Lace. Gloves. Socks. Sweaters. She could do anything, and she taught the two sisters, my grandmother and great aunt, to knit when they were in their 30s. Nonni passed away when I was little, maybe 6 years old or younger. I remember her well, as we used to visit her at least once or twice a month, but I don't ever remember seeing her knit. She lost most of her sight in her last few years, so that's probably why.

Deep breath. Yesterday when I went to see my grandmother, she had pulled out a handknit sweater that I'd never seen before. Now, you must understand - my grandmother lives in the same apartment that she moved into when she got married in 1939. It's one bedroom, about the size of a shoebox, and she raised three children there. I'd never seen this sweater before. EVER. Which is somewhat remarkable because I've lived there with her and there isn't a whole lot of room to hide anything. I thought my grandmother had shown me just about all of her treasures. She's not a packrat; actually, she's a neat freak, and there isn't any clutter in her life at all.

The sweater my grandmother pulled out of thin air was this one. Made by Nonni. I swear I'd never seen this before, which is nothing short of miraculous. My grandmother said that Nonni made it for her shortly after she got married in '39. I'm having a little trouble reconciling that info with the style and color, but that's what my grandma told me. And trust me, you don't argue with my grandma.

It's a bit shrunken. Not really felted but someone (not my grandmother, I'm sure) didn't treat it with perfect care at some point. However, it does fit me, although its cropped and the sleeves are a little short. The cables and bobbles are a little flat. I'm wondering if a wash and blocking would help the sweater regain some of its texture? And maybe lengthen the sleeves a tiny bit.

The work in it is lovely. The seams are perfect, and all the details neat. I searched through the old pattern books I inherited from my grandma, but couldn't find the pattern for this sweater, although just about every sweater she's ever made for me is included in that pattern collection.

When I started knitting again, I told my grandmother I wanted to make socks. Her reply was, "Nonni made socks. I've never made them - you can't start with socks." I proceeded to prove her wrong, then moved onto lace knitting and a little colorwork, both of which still impress her. When she jokingly asked me a few times where I learned to knit like that, I responded that since I'd had a picture of Nonni next to my bed since I was 16, maybe she had taught me in my sleep. I told her that Nonni's ghost had taught me to knit, and we still laugh about it.

So, here's to Nonni. To her being a mother to my grandma, a grandmother to my mom's generation, and a great grandmother to me. And a huge and heartfelt thanks for the knitting legacy she gave to my family.

My mouth is bigger than my knitting

I'm not done with the shawl yet. And that's okay. I had said I hoped to be done by early this week, and maybe I will be. Soon. But not yet.

I have 8 more rounds to go before the crocheted edging. These are happy rows, each one bringing me closer to the end. But they're going slowly with so many stitches (664 and counting) and life is very full right now.

Yesterday was a wonderful day. Beth and I had made last minute plans a few days ago to spend Monday together with our first-ever real life meeting and a yarn crawl. She and I have been emailing for over a year, and it was wonderful to finally get together and talk in real time.

However, I think this particular yarn "crawl" could properly have been termed a marathon. We started at School Products (they open early, you know) and then hopped around the corner to Habu. We then went south to Seaport Yarns, where I was able to courageously resist some Grafton Fibers roving that they had just gotten in. At least I resisted for the day, we'll see how it goes.

We then went to The Point for lunch, coffee and some actual knitting time. Pulled out shawls, socks, and happily knit and talked and fondled the yarns for a while. Then a nice trip over to Purl - where I showed courage, fortitude, and possibly some remorse for my daylong shopping binge.

All I know is that I led a visitor around on a yarn expedition, and I bought more than she did. But really, I'm okay with that. Because sock yarn, a magazine, and a bit of silk yarn for a scarf wasn't really enough to make me feel guilty. Except I'm still talking about it. But I'm okay with it. Really.

Beth remembered and pointed out at the very end of the day that we hadn't taken any pictures at all. Blogs are weird, in so many ways. Should we have pulled out our cameras and posed or shot the scenes for the rest of the world to see? Now that I've been blogging for a bit, I've fallen out of love with recording every single event for posterity (or the blog, as the case may be).

I've never been much of a picture person. I like having pictures of family, but those tend to be more portrait-like, rather than album after album of pictorial records of parties or holidays. I'm not a good enough photographer to be able to capture the nuance of a two-way conversation in a still photo. To encapsulate the full experience of an exchange while recording it on film or digitally. And sometimes I'm not even sure that it can be done. There always seems to be something missing from the fullness of an event when a camera gets involved. For me.

A long time ago (about 16 years) I realized that by pulling out a camera and living an experience behind a lens, I wasn't able to fully participate in it. That focusing and clicking didn't allow me to actually take part in what was going on in front of me. That a camera usually came between me and the experience I was supposed to be taking part in. And that I would rather just enjoy my time with people rather than recording it in a frozen picture frame devoid of my participation.

Instead of the yarn crawl, I give you the point of the shawl where I stopped knitting last night.

Almost there. Really. I'm almost there.

some numbers are better left unknown

Work continues on the nKnB shawl. Are you bored yet?

I worked on the shawl, and the shawl only all weekend. Although I didn't have a lot of knitting time, I did put whatever time I had to knit into working on it.

At about 7:30am yesterday, I was sitting in the quiet of a Sunday morning with my coffee, contentedly knitting on the shawl. At that point, I finished a row and realized that there were twenty more rows to go. For about three seconds I thought that this was a good thing.

Then I looked at the pattern, saw the number of stitches per row, and realized I was up over 600 stitches per pattern row. 600 x 20 =.......... well, so many stitches that I then spent the rest of the day saying, "I have over 12,000 stitches left to go on the damn shawl!"

It really wasn't an encouraging piece of information, in all honesty.

I've put almost two balls of yarn (wound off a mega cone that may never exhaust itself) into the shawl. I really thought, about ten or twenty rows ago, that I'd finish the shawl with two balls or less. Now I can see that I'll need to wind at least a third small ball.

I will admit, its getting bigger. I can't tell quite how large it is, because I'd rather spend my time knitting on it than take the time to distribute its bulk over a couple of needles and try to measure it. You can get some perspective here (maybe):

I've got thirteen more rows to go, and am a few rows into the last pattern at the outside edge of the shawl. It's on a 32"/80cm long circular needle at this point. The rows seem to take forever, but are still going quickly.

And because I know I'm getting boring, and everyone really likes her, here's the latest Alice picture.

Shameless, I know.

The other thing that happened, right before the weekend if you haven't heard by now, involved Laurie's husband and a really bad skiing accident. My faith in the world in general and the knitting blogosphere in particular was really lifted by the response she received from friends and almost-strangers while dealing with a nightmare very far from home. Please go and wish them both well.