Friday, December 15, 2017
Strange Brew from Tin Can Knits. I used a different palette and a different colorwork pattern for each, but I tried to keep them all kind of relative to each other--these are our Family Hats! It was a little bit tough to stop at six. Choosing all the colors and stitch patterns and then drawing charts and then being able to finish one of these in a day or two made for a pretty satisfying project. These rode around in my project bag for quite awhile. There is definitely a Strange Brew sweater in my future.
Monday, December 4, 2017
Granito in Holst Supersoft since last summer, and from the very beginning, I sort of knew that Supersoft was the wrong choice. It was gray and in the stash at the exact moment I was ready to cast on for the project, and I got gauge. So, go for launch! Don't think about it or anything! On the plus side, Supersoft comes already wound and ready to go, but straight out of the cake, Supersoft is not supersoft. Supersoft has a hand only a mother could love, and it requires a leap of faith, and you have to keep on leaping for the duration of the project. Actually, I have to carry that unrelated purple swatch along with any Supersoft project, and I need to keep it right in front of me the whole time I'm knitting with Supersoft, and I have to keep cuddling it now and then to remind myself what that yarn really is inside, because otherwise, I will completely forget about how it transforms with washing and becomes a nice fabric and I will hate my knitting. Witness. Supersoft before a bath: these in time for Rhinebeck 2018?] That up there, the cream-and-olive striped thing? That's neither the sweater I unraveled, nor the yarn I unraveled from it, nor a new Granito. That is Yet Another Sweater, on my needles. I am running out of size fours. Ravello, by Isabell Kraemer. In Supersoft.
Monday, November 27, 2017
Monday, November 20, 2017
Ann Wood) has kept me busy this morning, and I only had to stop because it needs a mast and I can't find a skewer. The skewers were a casualty of the big clear-out I did over the summer, and now I'm either going to buy more skewers (probably a hundred of them, when I only need one) or improvise with a knitting needle or something else. A stick from the yard would be my usual solution to needing a stick, but this happened:
Monday, November 13, 2017
sweater last winter. It's a combination of the known-to-fit-me Lisbon pullover by Misa Erder and the lovely (and free!) yoke design from Rydraud, by Steinunn Birna Gudjonsdottir. I used Brooklyn Tweed Shelter, in the gorgeous and golden colorway "Hayloft", which was harvested from my lovely, but too large (and thus unraveled) "Levenwick". Yarn, good. Pattern, good. Gauge? Not good. I have developed a bad habit: I have this idea that all my knitting will be 5 sts/inch. I don't know why I think this, because it is hardly ever the case, and I fully know that gauge matters, and I swatch and I wash and block my swatches, but still, this belief persists. Anyway, the Shelter, as knit by me in this particular case, did not make a fabric that was 5 sts/inch, and I made this a year ago, so I can't remember how much I measured or swatched or which needles I used, but I'll bet I went into it all confident that I had successfully used this pattern before, and that (due to the Levenwick, and also the almost finished but also unraveled Timber I knit 85% of before deciding it wasn't working) I knew the yarn pretty well, and so just figured, you know, 5 sts/inch. So I tinkered with the Rydraud chart a little to make it fit the numbers of the Lisbon pattern, and then probably just went ahead and knit it without even checking any measurements. Which is obviously a mistake. And the yoke was really deep, which meant the armpits were way too low and there was a ton of extra fabric across the chest, which billowed unpleasantly and made me feel sloppy. I talked myself into it at first--aw, hey, it's slouchy! It's comfy! Roomy! Weekend wear! Boyfriend Style!--but every time I put it on, it just bugged me. Slouchy, sloppy, boyfriendy, weekend-sized sweaters are great, but all that bigness has to be intentional, and I have to feel good wearing it. And I wasn't. I almost got rid of it. But the color is so good, and the yarn (Shelter! Brooklyn Tweed!) is so good. And that yoke design, oh my goodness. I just love it so much. Why didn't it fit? Argh! It seemed so close to being right. I tried reblocking it, hoping that I could adjust things that way, and the body and sleeves became even more perfect than before, but the yoke was still too deep. There were just too many inches in it. Too many rows. Now, in case you're not familiar with round yoke construction, the way these sweaters work is this: You start at the hem and knit the body, headed upwards. When you reach the armpits, you set that aside, and make two sleeves, the same way, headed upwards. Then you put all three pieces on a long circular needle and start knitting the yoke, which for the first (approximately) 50% of the depth, is just knit straight up. Just a big tall tube, with no shaping. At the 50% mark, decreases start happening, every couple inches, or wherever it fits into the colorwork design, until A) you have the right number of stitches for the neck, and B) the yoke [the distance from your armpits to your collar] is the right depth. So, B is where I went wrong, and this sweater, beautiful in almost every way, sat on the shelf. Then, a few weeks ago, I read Laura Nelkin say somewhere that her personal yoke depth was fairly shallow, and that when she knits a round yoke design, she leaves out a few rounds. Well, whaaaat? Suddenly, I thought of this sweater, sitting at the bottom of a pile on the closet shelf, unworn, but as yet undonated, but on the bubble, and wondered if I could fix it. I love/hated this sweater, but it was so close to good. So close! I decided to see whether taking out a few rounds would save it, and unless you want to rip out the neck and all the color work and re-do it (argh, I didn't want to do that) the only way is to cut.
Monday, October 30, 2017
Bulb pullover/tunic/dress thing a little more than one sleeve from finished, then I spread it out to measure it and had a good look: Shockwaves. this gorgeous one!) in the right yarn. [Editor's note: all this is well and good, so what's up with that Granito, still sitting there halfway done, in the wrongitty-wrongest yarn ever? Hmmm?]. Okay, something in me is still hoping that one can work. [It won't]. There will be a Granito someday, in some yarn or another. Stay tuned.