For Consideration

I knit with purpose. I enjoy picking out yarn and a pattern that I think someone might like. I think about things I've seen my loved one wear and colors I know they admire. I enjoy making socks for people since they are useful, attractive, and relatively quick. There are lots of other reasons I like making socks, but their perfection as a present is undeniable.

I've found that men need more consultation in this process. Female knitters need barely anything - they understand the work that went into a gift, and they would accept an acrylic bobble scarf with squeals of joy and appreciation. Female non-knitters are almost as easy to please, simply because it's easier for me to tell what they might like. Women shop together, talk about clothes with each other, and frequently friends like similar things. Men are different. Men need "manly" things. Apparently certain shades of blue, green, grey, brown, and black qualify as manly. All other colors and combinations of colors (including those colors in the manly category) are "unmanly" and therefore unacceptable. I've learned that as soon as I think I recognize a pattern in taste, my brother will reach for a skein of yarn that I never would have thought would fit. The pattern is equally vexing. It must be "simple" and "not gaudy." I have no real idea what that means. The only solution is consultation.

So I take these consultations and considerations into account. I dig through my stash or (let's face it) buy new yarn. I work for weeks and emerge with a physical manifestation of my care and affection. So what happens if, during the creative process, my relationship with that person changes? There are people in my life that are appropriate to knit for (immediate family, closest friends, knitting friends, babies of all kinds) and those for whom a knitted gift would be too personal (my dentist, exes, people I only see at parties, the guy who bags my groceries). What happens when I've begun a project, and the object of my wool-love changes to an innapropriate recipient?

It's awkward at best. Heart-wrenching at worst. I feel weird re-gifting the project to another person. It almost feels tainted. At the same time they person no longer gets to have the socks (it's usually socks). You don't just get socks. Socks are given out of love and care. If that's no longer mutual... the socks go into a twilight zone: I've made socks for someone and they don't deserve them anymore. What to do? Unlike emotional hurt, which one can hide or let time heal, knitting creates a thing that must be dealt with in some immediate way. In my case, because I'm an optimist, I keep them. I put them in a box, and put it on a shelf, waiting for time to make the relationship balanced enough to finally make the gift appropriate again.

A girl's gotta hope.

Torture

It happens all the time. I'm sitting in a circle of people I don't know intimately, chatting. It doesn't matter where... a bar, some one's apartment, a car ride lasting more than 10 minutes. Anywhere. Everyone else in the conversation is perfectly satiated. They have the entertainment of bright compatriots, discussing current events, pop culture, or research design methods.

I'm in hell.

Not because I don't enjoy conversation. Quite the contrary. Not because I don't like learning about new people, or that I don't want to make new friends. No - I am experiencing excruciating torment because I know what I could be doing. I see the corner of my knitting pouch peek out of my purse. There's a brightly colored sock inside, begging for me to finish the gusset. I know I could knit and carry on a conversation at the same time. It's stockinette, for God's sake! I don't even really need to look at it. And I totally care what you're talking about... it's just that I could be even MORE productive. I could be multi-tasking! I can hardly hear what people are saying. My finger brushes the side of the vera bradley pouch, and for a moment I weaken.

"No!" I tell myself. "I can be a normal person who doesn't need to knit all the time!" I mean, other people seem to function quite well without it. I have no idea what other people do when they're stressed or waiting or chatting... but apparently it works. I will stay strong. But all I want to do is quietly start knitting. Maybe no one will notice! It's such a small movement, and it stays right in my lap...

I cave. I pull the pouch from my bag, and unzip it, while I nod in agreement with the conversation. I set up my circular needles, and get out my project. Heaven. I'm only about 15 stitches in, when it happens. The jig is up.

"Are you... knitting?" The conversation immediately changes focus to me, and my project. I explain that yes, I am knitting. No, it isn't hard. No, it doesn't require all that much patience. Socks. I'm knitting socks. Yes, really. No, it's not cheaper than buying them in the store. Maybe if you're very nice to me and we become friends I will make you a pair one day.

The real trouble is that the world is not aware of how totally normal and important knitting is. My best friends are no longer phased when I pull out my sock-in-progress at a movie theater, or waiting for a concert to start. They understand that it's a force of nature and there's really nothing that's going to stop me. I think it helps that they sometimes receive woolly gifts. What we need is to inundate all these non-knitters with knitting in public so that I'm not disruptive and shocking when I pull out a neon colored self-striping sock. I dream of the day when, instead of being confused by my knitting and offended because they think (mistakenly) that I don't care about the conversation, the people around me take it as a cue to pull out their own projects and knit on.

Knit on, knitters.

Different Shades of Knitting

I like to think of myself as a diverse knitter. Sure, I usually have a pair of socks on my needles, but I've also experimented with cables, lace, color work, and novelty items. I'll take on multi-month projects like cardigans, and patterns that only take a couple of hours. I like to learn new techniques, and there's a strange joy I get from sitting with a book, or better a teacher, and figuring out some fiddly new way of creating a beautiful design. In my knitting class it was almost a running gag how excited I would get to have Debra teach me a little trick of the trade, like leaving a long tail on a sleeve and using it to sew up the sweater so it was already attached.

As I learn new ways to knit, I've noticed that I employ certain techniques for different purposes - knitting as a process instead of knitting as an end. Here are some of my observations:

Plain Vanilla & Simple Pattern Socks
Perfect for commuter knitting. I keep mine in a make-up bag, complete with a tape measure, tapestry needle, and spare needles. I'll knit on the metro, in cars, or anywhere I have a few minutes to myself. Waiting a jiffy-lube? yes. I got to the bar early? yes. Watching a movie with my friends? clearly. Knitting on the go makes me feel like I'm being active even when sitting still, and that I'm taking advantage of every minute. Simple socks have easy milestones, which help me feel victorious multiple times in a single pair: Finished cuff! Finished heel flap! Turned heel! Finished gusset! Finished foot! Finished toe! Grafted toe! I live in a world of papers, readings, and presentations. I deal with ideas and conversations. While that's also rewarding, it's a great feeling to have something that I have physically overcome, and can hold in my hand.

Cables
There is something I find very comforting about cables. Maybe it calls to my Irish heritage, something deep in my dna. Maybe it's the knowledge that cabling is a form of double knitting, which makes any garment thicker and warmer, I have no idea. It's work that I need to pay attention to, but it comes pretty naturally to me. I also find cables enchanting, and they make me happy. I knit cables when I want something interesting, challenging, but that I don't find too all-consuming. (Please note I've only just begun my work with cables... it's highly possible I'll be all-consumed at some point.)

Lace
Ah lace. Where cables come naturally, lace requires all of my attention. I've learned I need to do it on pointy metal needles, or it's a no go. I've learned that it really, honestly matters if you're doing your yarn overs completely wrong. I've learned humility and patience through more frogged rows and re-dos than I can count. So why do I do it? Why do I sit in silence, bent with terrible posture over my lacework, carefully counting each stitch, any laying in lifelines? Am I masochistic? Other than my desire to create beautiful lace stoles, and work with fine laceweight yarn, the answer is that I find lace knitting to be therapeutic. There are very few times when I feel completely separate from my thoughts. I am constantly running things through my mind, and when I'm trying to deal with anything difficult, sometimes I need a break from my mind. Knitting lace is such an intense exercise for me that I have no room for external thoughts. I can forget what I'm dealing with, and just focus on the stitches. I have a hard time meditating, since my imagination and inner dialogue won't shut off, but I think knitting lace is a similar sensation.

Knitting is comforting, challenging, relaxing, frustrating, and validating. The different techniques illustrate the many shades of the process.

Baby it's cold outside...

But it's springtime in my apartment!

Knitting on the Central Park Hoodie is underway. I'm trying to do at least one cable per night, which works out to ten rows. So far I'm on schedule. I tend to work on it really late at night after I get home from class or meetings. It's the perfect de-stress knitting because it's easy and also makes me feel clever because there are cables.

I've done one more twist than these photos show. Can I just express how much I am loving this cardigan? The color is like a faded pair of jeans, and the patten is so simple and elegant. It's practically just knit and purl, with some really easy cables thrown in so I don't get bored while I'm watching Law & Order.

I'm using no 8 metal needles. They are bright blue and spectacular. They're super cheap, pointy, and smooth, which makes the cables much easier. I really enjoy the feel and warmth of bamboo, but I think for stockinette and cables metal makes more sense... unless I'm working with slippery yarn like mohair... then I need all the grab I can get.

Advent of Wool

The wool has arrived! I haven't been feeling great, and I had a stats session with my friend on Wednesday. I can't even explain the joy I felt when I came home at 10pm after battling SPSS and this UPS box was waiting for me.
I ended up choosing Plymouth Tweed, 100% Virgin Lambswool from Webs. It was on sale, so all 14 skeins were about $75. Honestly, more than I can really afford, but i think it'll bring me more than $75 worth of entertainment. It's this great light blue color. The picture on the Webs page looked more grey than it is in person, but I actually like it even better. What do you think? Here's another close up:
I made a swatch already, and I've determined that I need to go buy US 6 needles. Oh drat. ;-)

Materials

After many yardage calculations, and gauge estimate comparisons, I picked the yarn for my cardigan. With the help of three friends, I picked the color. The package may come today or tomorrow, so I'll post pictures then.

I have to say, ravelry was so useful in substitution yarns. I went to the pattern I'm working on, and checked out other people's projects. There were certain yarns that picked up the cables better, or colors I had never considered before calling my name.

I'm not 100% sure I have the right needles for the job. I did my fingerless gloves on metal needles instead of bamboo, which is my standard. I liked how pointy the metal ones are, particularly in cabling when you have to knit into some pretty tight loops. I'll do some swatching once my yarn gets here, but then i might need to to some needle stash enhancement. Oh Drat. ;-)

Abby, do you ever read the yarn pirate's blog? She's been making all this amazing baby stuff, since she's due any day now. I've been checking every day to see if she's finally met her son :-) Her blog is highly recommended.

Semester of Cables

I have a dream. In my dream, I look into my drawers 10 years from now, and pull out a beautiful cabled cardigan. I smell the wool, and smile as i feel the softness against my cheek. "I made this during my second semester of grad school", i think to myself.

I am going to embark upon a semester long journey: The cabled cardigan. I realize more accomplished knitters who don't regularly get home at 10pm from campus might say, "but alice! certainly you can finish one little cardigan before MAY?" That might be true, it might not. But you have to understand I'm working with a schedule where it's difficult to figure out when I'm going to have a moment to buy milk, let alone knit two panels, a back, two sleeves, and a hood. It's totally gotta have a hood. I'm too in love with the idea not to do it. It's time to throw caution to the wind and knit my little tuchus off.

Here's the main problem (other than time restraints, and the possibility that I'll give up and stop): Yarn costs money. I firmly believe that knitters should be allotted a "yarn allowance" from wealthy patrons, seeing as how we provide the important service of hand-knitted items gifted upon our friends and family. However, until Stephanie Pearl-McPhee succeeds in rallying all knitters together to take over the world... it's not gonna happen.

So since a cardigan takes way more wool than a pair of socks, there is some major stash enhancement in my future. I'm thinking sales at WEBS or knitpicks. You can usually get skeins of very lovely things for around $3. Definitely within my budget...ish.

What will be knit? Behold!

The Central Park Hoodie

I need to pick color, and the right substitute yarn, but I'm jumping in. It's time.

Besides, my dad saw my cabled fingerless gloves, and pulled out the beautiful aran sweater my nana knit for him in the 70's. I was inspired... and he wants another one.

I told him i have to make one for myself first, and then I'll make one for him (gotta get the kinks out... and I like my own work). He looked at me expectantly, so the next time I see him i wanna be making cables. Step 2 will be to pick out a manly pattern for him.