On the Monkey

I have been on a serious finishing jaunt. Due to some April downpours, I've been stuck inside.



Yesterday I finally got around to finishing the Spindle Socks.



In one afternoon, I knit a whole foot, grafted the toes, blocked Loppem, blocked the Tomten jacket, cleaned the house, and set the twist on some handspun. It was as if I was in some sort of fold in the space time continuum. This is probably the same fold that's been collecting all of that time I lose during the rest of my week.


These socks were knit, from start to finish, without a hitch. There was no swearing, no throwing of needles, no threatening to abuse the knitting with scissors. It was the bizarro world of sock knitting. I was so inspired by this triumph, that I cast on for a second pair of socks. Yes, I'm ignoring the fact that I have three or four other pairs waiting to be finished. Please don't bring that up right now. I'm basking in the glow of a completed pair of sunshine colored socks. As I was saying, I cast on for another sock. It's the Monkey sock pattern from the talented Cookie A. She has a new book out. It's amazing. Her Monkey socks have been knit by 8916 people, on Ravelry. I thought I might as well hop on the bandwagon.
The sock I am knitting is too big. I sort of knew this as I cast on. I sort of knew it as I knit for three inches. Thankfully, I sort of had the brains to try it on, before denial led to a finished pair of yeti sized socks. My ego is a little bruised by this early failure, but the Monkey pattern is so addictive, that I think I'll drop down a needle size, and get back on that Monkey.
The other Hallmark knitting moment came when the Loppem sweater went from bad seed, troublemaker, redheaded stepchild status to beloved, angelic, can do no wrong, only child status. I don't know how this happened. I had resigned myself to the fact that I was probably going to have to rip out the whole thing, and then reknit it. I knew with certainty that it would be entirely too big. I would have bet lots of money on it. I gave it lots of nasty looks, and sighed many times while finishing up the yoke. About an inch from the finish line, things began to look more promising. The neckline wasn't going to be elephantesque. I bound off, and raced to the nearest reflective surface. It looked O.K. in the dark reflection of a glass door. I ran down the hall to the bathroom mirror, and was shocked to see a completely wearable sweater. I really can't tell you how this happened. I think it's a combination of the style of the sweater, and a diabolical case of body snatching. Someone snatched my imaginary willowy frame and replaced it with a buxom-y Germanic matron's figure. I'll post pictures, as soon the sweater finishes drying, and as soon as I come to terms with the fact that I'm not a size 6.

A Little Tomten

March was a funny month, what with all of that monogamous silliness, but I think it's made April sweeter. I've cast on for all sorts of projects without the usual guilt, and I've even been inspired to stay the course with some of the UFOs from March. I guess that's reason enough to try a month of monogamous knitting. Here's my latest UFO turned FO.


This is my version of Elizabeth Zimmerman's "Modular Tomten Jacket". I knit it with some leftover balls of Manos from the stash. There are three colorways that feature brown, and one ice blue colorway. There are some sweet little pockets on the front, that I edged with an i-cord trim. It was my first time knitting an applied i-cord, but it won't be my last. It's magic. It's such a fast and easy way of putting a perfect border on an imperfect edge. The best part of an applied i-cord is that it looks good on both sides. That doesn't happen very often with knitting, or for that matter with anything else in life.


The stranded patterning is of my own design, but it could easily be replaced with simple garter stitch, or with a different pattern. I really love the way that the thick and thin Manos yarn worked up in the stranded work sections.




I'm one hundred percent happy with this little jacket. It's soft, it's practical, it's an easy knit, and best of all, it makes my little man look like a garden gnome. It's way too big for this spring, but it should last him all of next winter. Hooray for spring. Hooray for knitting.

No Fussin'

The socks are knitting themselves.



Well, they're almost knitting themselves. It's strange how one pair of socks can languish in the sack of despair for months, and another pair can be knit in a matter of days, with no fussin' or feudin' at all. Shocking as it may be, in my 9 years of knitting, I have never knit myself a pair of socks. I have knit them for plenty of other (mostly grateful) people. But this pair, this pair is the pair that I have been dreaming of.
Turning 30 is too often billed as a traumatic birthday. 30 was very good birthday for me. It helped me realize that, while it's good to give away knits, it's also good to take care of yourself once in a while, maybe more than once in a while....maybe all of the time.



I've also just found out, that I may be a sock person. I think I want a whole drawer of these things. In the past I've always opted for more complicated sock patterns. This was a mistake. I do much better when I can put them down, and pick them up hours later, without having to look at a chart. I also need them to be done quickly. Making two identical knitted objects is tax on my sanity. I need the whole operation to be as quick as possible. These have just enough interest to keep me from feeling like I've eaten three bowls of plain oatmeal, but not so much that I start going cross eyed. They are, in a word, perfect.

Sock of Solace

Happy Spring! Before I start with the knitting, I thought you might like some plum blossoms.




Now, let's get on with the knitting talk. This is the part of knitting a sweater where the little girls are separated from the women. This is my "Loppem". "Loppem" is a lovely knit. It would have been a simple, pleasurable, quick little thing, but for the way that the pattern was written, and then corrected....and then corrected some more.



When I first began knitting I was baffled by the lack of a standardized language. Every country has a different code, different sizing for needles, and a different way of laying out the pattern. Within each country, each designer or design group has a special way of writing out the pattern. Some patterns come with charts, some are written out in code, or a mixture of text and code, and some are a combination of the two. Then there are the recipe style patterns. These give a rough guide, or a "how to", for building a knitted piece. All of this was overwhelming, and a bit frustrating to me, as a new knitter. The amount of information given never seemed like enough. Nowadays, I can get by on a sketchy outline. I have, through years of tantrums and tears, learned enough about knitting to be able to read between the lines. The thing that I have not learned, is when to trust my instincts. Do you see the tiny bit of knit st. where there should be pearl st.? It's just after the second cable crossing. It irks me. It irked me when I first ran across it in the chart, but I thought, "She must have written it that way for a reason."



I want to trust the designer. After all, she has already knit the garment once, or at least spoken with someone who's knit it. Time and time again, I learn that I should trust myself. A well fitted sweater is an elusive beast. It relies on many different parts that must all come together well, or at the very least, close enough. This sweater is making me crazy. The decreases don't line up perfectly, the cable pattern is slightly wonky, and worst of all, it might be way too big for me. I don't know whether to rip it all out, and start again, fortified with the bitter knowledge of hindsight, or soldier on, knowing that it will always be my redheaded stepchild.....the sweater that could have been perfect.
In an effort to gain something positive from the situation, I will list for you the things that should be considered before beginning this project.

1. Check the errata. There is a lot of it. ( The link wasn't working for me, so I just cast on in ignorance. This is a terrible idea.)

2. Choose a size at least one to two sizes smaller than you think you will need. No one, who has knit this, has had a problem with it being too small.

3. When you get to the armholes, make sure that you're happy with the length.

4. Know algebra. (I do not)

5. Marry someone who knows algebra, if you do not.

6. The decreases for the sleeves MAY NOT LINE UP, unless you make them line up. This is where the algebra comes in handy.

7. The button holes look like they were placed by a blind monkey. They should be placed 2, 3, or 4 stitches in. Otherwise, they will lie outside of the button band. Damn you, blind monkey.

8. The decreases for the yoke MAY NOT LINE UP, unless you make them line up.

While I sat and stared in disbelief at what should have been an FO days ago, I cast on for a sympathy knit. This combination of yarn and pattern are soothing my shattered ego. The pattern is called "Spindle Socks" by Anna Bell and the yarn is "Alyeska" from Pagewood Farms. The colorway is "Mississippi Mud". It reminds me of pollen, or gilt, or sunshine. The yarn has a beautiful springy feel.



It's like knitting a sweet honeycomb. I can't put it down. It (and an episode of "Lost") might just give me the strength to frog aaaallllllll of my "Loppem".



Oh, if I had only checked the errata. Back to the sock of solace.

Lay Lady Lay

I've got all sorts of knitting news, but before I post about "Loppem", I'd like to introduce the newest members of our gang. Yes, it's a gang. Here are two of the three ladies.


This is the Loch Ness monster of chickens. She's practically impossible to photograph. She goes hightailing it into the coup at the first sign of trouble, or of anything really.


For the moment, I am calling them "the ladies", because I haven't come up with names for them yet. I think that the biggest chicken will be named Oprah. The other chickens just sort of do whatever she's doing. That seems very Oprah like to me. The other chicken's don't have names yet, but I'm accepting submissions, so name away. There's the shy/alarmist chicken and the mellow chicken.
I've still got to figure out what variety they are. They were bought at a market from a rough looking gentleman, who handles his chickens like I handle weeds. I was going to buy some Bantam hens from a breeder, but these girls looked like they could use a good home, and while I'm not running a shelter for wayward chickens, I am a bit of a softy for women in tough situations.
They're a medium grey color with darker grey heads and some reddish feathers around their necks. I didn't expect them to lay for a week or so. Apparently, chickens get really stressed out by moving. I can relate. So, I was shocked to find an egg only hours after they settled in.


Voila, the first egg. I am unreasonably proud of the ladies. They are already laying up a storm, and just in time for Easter. Before I go, I've got one last trick up my blogging sleeve. The day after they arrived, I found this in my yard.


Even the mushrooms have caught chicken fever.

Obvious-ness

This post will be short, and it will taste of artificial sweetener. Here is a photo of me knitting on the couch.


This is my actual view of my knitting. I knit like this for a full hour before realizing that this




is a much better way to knit. Genius. All I had to do was move my butt.