Forever

Why is finishing something so hard?

Here are 18 rows of red; I need to knit only six more to finish this giant afghan entirely.

I've already knit ten blue stripes - eight rows each, that's 80 rows of blue - and ten red stripes - one of 24 rows, nine of 12 rows each, 132 rows of red in all. Plus those 18 rows in the last red stripe. So, I've knit 230 rows so far.

But those last six rows - oh, they drag. They dawdle. They move along as fast as a slug on a hot, dry sidewalk. Six rows is only 2.5% of the total - not much really, but too much, really.

Isn't knitting supposed to foster patience? I think I'm really more of a process knitter than a product knitter, although if there's a category for knitters who constantly start new projects while leaving a trail of unfinished ones - well, yup, that's me.

Maybe I should start another afghan after I finish this one. Maybe I'll learn patience then.

Five rows to go. An eternity.

I forgot to count the cast-off row, so it's back to having six rows to go. Damn. And the weaving-in of ends, although luckily most of them are already woven in. Plus, when I get that close to the end, I'm obsessed with finishing.

Unlike these final four rows. Sigh.

Thinking about the Journey

Juno has me thinking. Juno is a thinker of depth and character, but I - well, I just skim the surface. I regret not being a particularly deep thinker; it might be useful in this time of global restlessness. Oh, I'm smart and I went to school a long time and I'm reasonably sane and I can think my way through a long, involved project (see here, but don't download the pdf; trust me, it takes forever. Or you look at this, also a pdf. Neither one has anything to do with fiber, by the way, and please pardon my showing off), but the restlessness and whining that's been infecting me for a while now - I haven't a clue. Not good at the self-analysis. Not educated in the ways of the soul and mind and heart. You get the picture.

So Juno was writing about how she wants and needs perspective and goals and intent in her fiber workings right now. Rather than pigging out on yarn and fleece, she wants PIG (perspective, intent, goals) instead. (I made up that acronym; Juno has too much class to write that, but it amuses me.)

Me, too, in my best groupie chirp.

I went to southeastern Pennsylvania this past weekend (by Amtrak, not by car; I feel virtuous) to join the rest of my family in wishing my dad a happy 80th birthday. Here's the obligatory photo of Dad, looking pensive.

He's doing rather well for 80 - shortly after the photo, he went back outside to continue splitting up an entire elm tree by hand.

I got lots of knitting done over the four days, too, as will happen when one gathers 12 or so people ages 80 to 8 months more or less under one roof - there's lots of waiting around, for the youngest to wake up from his nap or the brother to pick up my niece from her SATs or somebody's plane to come in or leave.

I took this scarf, the new socks, and the new sweater to Philly with me, but all I worked on was the scarf. The socks and sweater are at that stage called "starting the cable pattern" and I couldn't quite cope with doing that while swaying on the train or chatting with family. I did, however, get about 3 feet of this scarf knit, and I'm enjoying every stitch. It's wonderful yarn. Go to Gail's etsy shop and buy something from her; it's all wonderful yarn.

I found, though, that I had to really concentrate on my knitting. This is a very easy lace stitch, worked over only 38 stitches, yet I often came to the end of a row and found I had 39 stitches on my needle. Hmm. Or I'd get through the first repeat just fine and then come up a stitch short or a stitch too many at the end of the second repeat, when I KNOW the previous lace row was perfect. Hmm, some more. I can blame the yarn, a little: mohair is wispy and generates faux stitches where there are none, or two stitches snuggle up too close to one another and are k2tog when they're not supposed to be. I can blame the motion of the train - hard to catch just the right loop in the middle of a sway or swoop. I can blame bad light or an awkward seat or any number of things, but really ...

I wasn't paying attention enough. I was not centered on the task. I kept thinking: Am I on the right train? Why do parents have to get old and eventually die? Should I have had kids? Where is there a yarn shop I can go visit? I wonder if Mom has any good books she wants to give away? Am I on the right train? Why do I have to get old and die? What are my 4 siblings really like? How do they cope? Should I knit on the sock instead? Am I on the right train?

What is my journey, anyhow? Hell if I know. In the meantime, enjoy my orchid cactus - there must be 30 blooms and buds on this one plant. Some days, beauty is all there is.

Everything Rolled into One

I left you in the lurch, didn't I? Here you were, waiting for days to see how my sock-on-2-circs turned out, while I was blithely wandering here and there, not even trying the circs at all. I have been busy, though - note my knitting/spinning corner in the living room, above.

Without ado then, here:

That's the sock, on size 1 bamboo dpns. It's much better. I think it'll fit.

And there:

That's one repeat of the Kangaroo Dyer kid mohair scarf (plus a boo-boo, visible towards the top). Beautiful. Inspiring. Working working on for months.

And, um, here:

I did mention, didn't I, that I cast on for a hat, too, from A Fine Fleece? This is the Nantucket Cap, in my handspun alpaca/silk, left over from knitting my dad a scarf for Christmas before last. I'm kind of ... meh ... about this. I want a warm winter hat for me, one that will cover my ears, and I think that this yarn is a little too thin to be warm, even if it is alpaca and silk. The edge of the hat is moss stitch (but I did seed stitch, because I'm an idiot), which is not snug enough, unlike ribbing, to keep my ears warm, I think. So this'll get frogged. It's nice yarn, though.

I do deserve some credit, though - I'm almost done the zigzag afghan for my parents, maybe only 15 rows to go. I would have finished last night, if my hands hadn't protested. My father's 80th birthday is this Saturday, so we're all converging on southeastern Pennsylvania to celebrate (well, not my sister in Australia, but that's understandable). I won't have finished and blocked the afghan by then, but that's fine with me. We kids are getting him a commemorative bench at the nearby state park he likes, and I don't want to make my siblings feel awkward if I bring along a giant handknit afghan as well (It was supposed to be a Christmas present). Which reminds me: I have to decide what I'm bringing for knitting. I'm taking the train (for the first time!), so I might need two or three projects. Or four?

And I'm still weaving - here are three repeats of the 8-harness runner. I have learned that my "gauge," or whatever you call it in weaving (evenness of beat, maybe?), is uneven in the beginning of a project. See how, in the blue stripe, the first square-ish pattern is elongated, while the second and third are much squarer? That's the learning process in action. Next time, I'll swatch (or sample, in weaver-ese) before I launch right into something.

A confession: I'm a foolish groupie. I went to see the Yarn Harlot at WEBS this past Sunday - great fun, as always (and you can see me looking supremely fat and dorky showing Stephanie my first socks on her blog). I must really suffer from poor self-esteem, because I have this vision of myself at these events, being cool and creative and chatty with everyone. I'm not, in reality. I'm a delusional groupie. Sigh...

I may also be a groupie in yarn purchases, too.

I have no idea what I'm going to do with this - any suggestions?

Day 3: In Which We Learn the Importance of Numbers

Does that look big enough to fit me?

Damn. I didn't think so either.

Of course, if I'd used size 1 needles like the pattern called for, rather than the size O I grabbed, it might have fit. I might have to go buy me some size 1 dpns. Oddly, I don't have any, although I do have two size 1 circulars. Tune in tomorrow to see if the Linnet can cope with knitting socks on two circs.

In the meantime, since I know you want the details: This is Spunky Eclectic's Skinny Sock yarn, superwash merino in the Attack of the Killer Tomatoes colorway. I think I bought this at SPA in Portland in 2007. Or maybe not. I'm casting on (and on and on) for Lisa Lloyd's Saxony Socks in A Fine Fleece. There are probably thousands of sock patterns in the world today and I've resisted all of them, till now.

Or maybe I just have a really bad case of spring startitus.

Day 2: Doubt Sets In

Do I really have enough yarn?

Is a size 42 big enough?

Why am I casting on for an Aran sweater when an unfinished Celtic Dreams lies moldering away not three feet from me?

Answer: Cast on, my child. In fact, cast on for socks.

More is Better, Right?

Since casting on for an ethereal scarf made me happy, I thought I'd take more of that medicine.

I decided I'd cast on for another pattern from A Fine Fleece.

I consulted the Table of SABLE. The first yarn I came to that was a suitable weight and yardage for a sweater was four enormous (1560 yards total!) skeins of off-white Chuckanut Bay wool, acquired in December of 2006 at my LYS, Emily's Needlework.

I went looking for it in the stash. My stash is not particularly organized, so I was surprised to find it in the first bin I opened, right there on top. Already wound into balls, interestingly.

I opened A Fine Fleece and went looking for a pattern that takes 1560 yards of aran-weight (18 stitches to four inches) yarn. Now, the pattern I like best, of all the cabled sweater patterns in this book, is Halcyon.

Halcyon calls for 1,550 yards of 18-stitches-to-4-inches yarn, in my size. And I have short arms and a short torso, so I'm willing to take the risk that I'll need more than the pattern calls for.

It's fate, I tell you. Fate indeed.

Better Now

Apparently, I needed some fun. To do what I wanted to do (heh. I just typed "needed to do,' even as I thought 'wanted to do.' Talk about your Freudian slips!).

So late last night - I was already snuggled into bed - I cast on for something new. Yes, there are maybe 15 knitting projects (maybe more) lying around in various states of disrepair; yes, there are piles of roving, top and fleeces waiting to be spun; yes, the rigid heddle is not yet warped, I've only done one more repeat on the 8-harness runner, and that shawl still needs its fringe twisted and beaded, but screw it.

I cast on.

I cannot do this yarn justice with my lousy photography skills, and the breeziness today is not helping to bring natural light to bear on this exceptional yarn. I'm sorry.

This is kid mohair, with a touch of nylon, dyed by the Kangaroo Dyer, Gail Callahan. This is ethereal mist made incarnate, the fragility of life held in one's hands, hope become yarn. Good stuff, in other words. I bought this at Metaphor Yarns in Shelburne Falls a month or so ago. I cast on for the Road Not Taken scarf from Lisa Lloyd's new book, A Fine Fleece. It's a simple pattern, essentially just yarnovers leading right, then left, but simplicity becomes this yarn.

Somehow, it is doing my soul good to start something new. Knitting, like gardening or spinning or weaving or raising kids, or life itself, I suppose, is the triumph of hope over experience, as somebody notable once said. I cast on, with beautiful yarn colored by someone worth supporting, bought from a new yarn store worth supporting, for a pattern offered by someone worth supporting, and I'm hoping for joy and beauty. I might just find it.

Despite All This

Despite the fact it's a beautiful warm weekend...

Despite the fact I bought the new book A Fine Fleece this week, and it has brought back my enthusiam for casting on something new... I don't know what yet, but there are a few piles on my bed, dug out of the stash, which is a good thing. Go buy the book, it's worth the $30.

Despite seeing Pat's lambs last night...

I'm cranky. Out of sorts. Questioning my role in the universe. Not Happy. The fact I just jammed something sharp under my left thumbnail whilst cleaning around the microwave didn't help. Nor does the fact that I really, really need to cut my hair - it's down to my shoulder blades and doesn't look good - and I hate getting my hair cut, it makes me feel as though I'm incapable of keeping up with the female standards in this society, which is true, but also beside the point. Work is still a slog of unbearably boring proportions. I need more people time - anybody wanna get together and knit? Spin? (assuming my frigging thumb heals) (oh! I forgot! I've applied to go to SOAR, I really hope I get in, I need a fiberish vacation) Weave?

Anybody?

I'm really tired of being this out of sorts constantly.

In Progress...

I'm in the middle of everything. I still haven't dealt with the fringe on the overshot shawl.

I haven't quite finished warping the rigid heddle loom for the first of two edging strips for the leftover-knitting-yarn blanket.

I've started on the fancy twill runner on the 8-harness table loom. I'm not so sure I'll be thrilled with this when it's done, as the diamonds and v-shapes in the yellow stripes are not at all distinct, so all you'll see will be those blue shapes down the runner, with semi-random mishmash (as called for in the pattern) separating them. I put on enough warp for two runners, so maybe I'll try a different weft color for the second runner. This is a pattern from Handwoven, by the way; all I've changed is the colors - another in a series of my following published patterns till I think I know enough to design on my own.

My tennis elbow has let up enough that I can return to spinning up the fleece's worth of brown wool I started in January. I've completed two big skeins' worth, plus another half skein, but I'm afraid I've been over-plying. I may need to run these back through the wheel to take out some of the excessive twist.

I still have plenty of this fleece yet to go. I'm thinking of using the yarn as weft in a big woven blanket - we'll see.

Lastly, I do still knit, you know. This is a twin to the afghan I knit for a wedding present last summer. This one is for my parents. I had planned on giving the first one to my parents, but then I met their cat, Binky the Vicious, who quite clearly would have clawed this loosely spun merino into shreds in short order. Alas, Binky met an untimely end, and luckily, WEBS still had more of the yarn, so now I'm knitting a second one.

That's all the excitement around here for now.

What is Wrong with Me?

So, I live an hour from WEBS, I'm there all the time (at least once a month) - what is wrong with me that I have not the slightest interest in buying any of the lovely stuff they have on sale right now? Normally, I'd be making lists of what patterns take how much yarn and dreaming up new patterns to buy yarn for, and they even have some weaving yarns on sale - you'd think since I just started weaving, I'd want to buy lots of coned yarn, but no. I'm not interested. There are no lists and charts and graphs scattered about. Do I need drugs?

Or is it that I already have waaay too much yarn already? And thank the gourds nobody's pregnant this year to knit for (5 or 6 babies last year, I've lost track). Or is it just that it's been a long hard winter and I've had too much work to do and my elbow hurts from spinning and when I knit (yes, I still knit), my fingertips start tingling, and all three of my looms have something going on, and I'm just sated? Is this what contentment is?

It sure doesn't feel like contentment.

Here's a pic of what's being threaded on the 8-harness loom:

It'll be a fancy twill runner - blue and yellow stripes in the warp, with a white weft, I think. It'll go with my dishes. It's bright and spring-like and cheery.

Back to mal-contentedness... I am so restless. I want sunny days - it's sooo gray here right now. I want warmth - it's raw out. I want a cleaned-up and cleaned-out household. I want, I want, I want.

I want to be a grown-up and know what I want.

While I'm at it, I don't want to be getting old either (I'm 54).

I think I need to go play with my friends - not my friend-substitutes (yarn, fiber), but real friends. Enough whining on the blog for today.

Post-Partum

I've never had kids, so I don't know what I'm talking about here, but I think I'm going through post-partum depression. I finished weaving the shawl...

and once I cut it off the loom, I had a day's worth of thoughts like "Is that all there is?" and "No more overshot shawl to weave? Waah!" and "Damn. It's not perfect." and "Oh, OK." A bit deflated and a bit disappointed it's over with (well, aside from the fringe. I promise modeled photos once I've finished braiding or twisting the fringe and adding beads to it.). I really enjoyed weaving this.

And yes, I know and believe it's gorgeous - that's my cue to give you more photos.

But note how the borders differ from one end to the other, particularly in the width of the stripes. The colors interchange from back to front as a result of the weave structure - that's not what I'm talking about - I'm talking about how, in the very first photo above, the patterns next to the purple stripe that extends all the way to the edge are different. Apparently, I didn't quite interpret the pattern correctly when I started (I started at the end that's shown on the right).

But my selvedges are splendid! And I threaded all 450 ends absolutely perfectly! And I didn't break a single warp thread! And I had no real problems with the edges drawing in! In short, I'm improving with every piece I weave and I'm pretty damned proud of that.

Pattern Details: This was woven from a pattern by Patricia Palson in Handwoven, May/June 2000. I followed her clear and accurate directions almost entirely, except:

• I chose different colors for the weft, which is Jaggerspun Zephyr. (Um, and I also used Zephyr for both pattern and tabby wefts; Ms. Palson specified Zephyr for the pattern weft and Jaggerspun 18/2 merino for the tabby, which I didn't realize until after I had started threading. No big deal; it's fine.)
• The pattern called for using 16/2 unmercerized cotton for the warp; I used UKI 20/2 mercerized cotton, which worked just fine.
• And I made a few mistakes, but then, I'm only human.

I was so pleased with myself (or so possessed by my obsession) that I rewarded myself. Meet Ethel...

Ethel is a 24-inch-wide, 8-harness, Tools of the Trade table loom, which Donna from the North Quabbin Textile Studio sold to me at a steal of a price ($200!) and for which I was able to get three 24" reeds (8-, 10-, and 12-dent) and a raddle for a very good price on eBay. I'm already winding the warp for Ethel's first project - a fancy twill table runner. Matilda (that's the Purrington floor loom) seems pleased to have the company. I'm kinda worried they're plotting to take over the house, though...

Where to Begin

No, I have not dropped off the face of the earth. And thank you very much for all your kind words for my weaving. As you may have guessed, I have been sucked even more thoroughly into that pleasurable morass known as weaving, probably in response to an unbearably long winter and to excessive stresses at work. (And we can also blame a touch of tennis elbow keeping me from spinning, and a touch of carpal tunnel kepping me from knitting.)

So what have I been weaving? Ohboyohboyohboy I am bouncing up and down in my chair, literally, I'm so excited to show you this. I am weaving this!

With these colors of JaggerSpun Zephyr!

And it's going along just ducky!

There are four repeats in the main body of the shawl, with borders on either end - I've just started the fourth repeat. Stay tuned!

Wow!

Boy, just when things get exciting and I want to chat with you all, the home computer dies. The computer was quickly revived, but not without a trip to the computer doc. He said it was a Windows issue. Fancy that! At least it's March now, I'm so much happier.

So! This is the pretentiously named (by me) Necessity of Creation (and a close-up), which I finally got off in the mail today to Lynne Bruning. I was simply driven to make this, I think by the cold virus that was infecting me at the time, and I enjoyed every moment of it. I beat down the mohair weft a little too much, such that this does not have the lovely drape of the pink mohair scarf Lynne sent me - here's her scarf, which is just lovely:

And! And! I wove a rug! Me! I'm simply astounded I made this.

Details:
Size: 3 feet by 6.5 feet (before washing; I expect it to shrink up some) with an inch or so hem on either end.

Warp: Basic Maysville 8/4 cotton carpet warp, sett 12 epi, of three colors - dark green, turquoise, and medium blue - wound together on the warping board and sleyed through the reed in whatever order they came.

Weft: Most of the weft is a deep teal Tahki Soho Bulky Tweed wool knitting yarn, doubled. The thin dark stripes are some mystery blue tweedy coned wool from WEBS, six strands held together. The pale skinny stripes are Classic Elite Waterspun, a slightly felted (on purpose) merino (I know, I know, but hey, the colors worked and it's only a little bit of my very first rug) worsted weight knitting yarn, 4 strands held together. You know what this means, right? Yep, I did indeed rearrange my yarn stash, such that three bins of what were knitting yarns are now labeled rug yarn. I may not have reached SABLE (Stash Acquisition Beyond Life Expectancy) after all, if I can weave rugs this fast. Plus, all that quilting fabric under the bed and in the back closet? I've already started tearing some of it up into 1 inch strips (I wasn't really ever going to make a slipcover for the sofa, was I? What a daydream that was) for rag rugs.

Weave Structure: Cord Weave, from Marguerite Davison's book. Remember I said that the little Cord Weave sample of pumpkin Lopi and purple Harrisville Shetland looked like it would make a good rug, if bulked up? Well, it did, but interestingly, the lengthwise stripes so evident in the Rowan Tapestry scarf did not show up at all in the rug. Instead, this combination created a lively mixture of warp and weft. The deep teal Soho is a strong color all by itself, and the thin lines of the warp arcing over the weft picks really enrich this surface for me.

Hem: Three inches of tabby woven with three strands of carpet warp held together, zigzagged along the edge by machine once the rug was off the loom. Then I turned under the hem twice and stitched by machine a straight line near the wool weft to hold the hem in place. My dear old Bernina rose nobly to the occasion, especially since I haven't used it in years and years and had even forgotten how to thread it, the poor neglected darling.

My loom also performed nobly throughout this rug-making. The weekend before last I took myself first to WEBS to get a rug shuttle and then, since they didn't have a temple the size I wanted, I zoomed off to Becky's Vavstuga in Shelburne Falls, an hour from home, which did have the right temple. And a whole lot more, too! Wow, that place is heaven! I'd never been before and, clearly, I'm going to have to save up my pennies and take a class there sometime.

Over the work week, I wound the warp, dressed the loom with it, and started weaving. This last weekend, I had nothing scheduled, no major errands or chores, all my buddies seeemed unavailable, so I wove. And I wove. And I wove some more. Sunday evening at 8:30 - done! Now, I'm not sure this rug will last through the centuries, but it's pretty damned sturdy and once it's washed, I'm going to put it by my bed and snuggle my toesies into it every morning for years and years.

Or until the next rug comes along....I'm already plotting, obviously!