Notes on the Nature of Yarn, both Superwash and Non-

As I mentioned the other day, the Moyen Age is all done.  Since that post, I washed the sweater and "blocked" it.  (I say "blocked" because it didn't require any stretching or pinning; I just laid it out and smoothed all the wrinkles and left it to dry.)

This was on Sunday afternoon.  By Tuesday morning, it was clear that the sweater, post-washing, was too big.  I tried it on, and yep.  There went that careful fit.

So what did I do?

I threw it in the dryer.

No, really.

We are all taught that the dryer is death, danger, and disaster for yarn, especially non-superwash yarn.  But the truth is that the dryer itself is not the enemy.  The enemies of untreated yarn are heat and agitation, which cause it to shrink and felt and turn that expensive cashmere sweater into a cat bed.  Judiciously applied, however, heat and agitation can help you achieve your goals.

In this case, I knew that the sweater fit when it was dry, before the stitches had relaxed.  (Silk will do that.)  So what I needed was just a soupçon of felting, essentially; I needed the stitches to shrink up a bit so they would fit properly again.  I removed my dryer balls (eco-friendly alternative to dryer sheets!) and in the sweater went.  My dryer doesn't have a specific heat setting, but the last ten minutes are a "cool down" stage, so I set the time for about fifteen minutes so I would have a few minutes of good heat.  Then I let it go for about seven minutes, pulled out the sweater, and voilà!  Perfect fit.  (Apparently I am French today.)

This got me thinking.  I have a cardigan I knit last summer that needed washing (I wore it to bake in, flour EVERYWHERE), and I already had the bowl and everything out.  So I plopped that one in to soak and went back to my busy schedule of haunting the Ravelry forums.  Once it was nice and clean, I dumped it in the washer.

No, really.

See, unlike the Moyen Age, this is worsted-weight 100% wool, which means it soaks up a ton of water.  I could roll it out in a towel, but why bother when the washer is right there?  So I put it in the washer and ran it on the spin cycle for about a minute.  "But wait," you may be saying, "heat and agitation!"  First, no water means no temperature change, and second, the agitation caused by the spin cycle on a washer isn't the kind that will cause felting in the short term (the fibers don't rub back and forth on each other but are pressed together by the motion).  And third, this sweater is superwash, so I have even more confidence that it won't felt.

In fact, after I took it out of the washer, I popped it right into the dryer.  As superwash tends to, this sweater stretches when wet, and I want it as small as I can get it.  So I put it in a lingerie bag to protect the buttons (I'd already turned it inside out before putting it in the washer, too) and threw it in for about an hour.  Then I took it out, laid it out on the table, and let it dry fully overnight.  Easy-peasy.

These solutions won't work for every sweater or knitted item, of course.  But they're worth considering if you need to get the water out of something or shrink it up just that little bit.  Don't fear your tools!

And here, have a picture of the sweater.  (The Irishman is a terrible photographer.  But it's a nice sweater regardless.)

Sweater Frustrations

I'm trying to knit myself a sweater. And it is not going well.

You may remember the beautiful alpaca I obtained in Kansas. There should be more than enough to knit myself a nice cardigan. If I can EVER get mother-loving GAUGE.

Gauge is one of the more frustrating parts of knitting for me. I'm a very loose knitter (here I must pause to say "hur hur" because the Irishman isn't here), so there's never any point in following indicated needle sizes. On a side note, is it just me, or are ball band instructions frequently from some other reality? I would never knit dk weight on a size 7 needle unless I was making lace.

Anyway, this poses a problem when it comes to knitting fitted garments, especially ones for myself. As I've mentioned from time to time, I'm a big girl. While I'm personally comfortable with my ample proportions, it does make knitting sweaters for myself a much more time-consuming task than knitting them for babies or skinnier friends (SQ I am looking at you!) I've only ever knit one sweater for myself (the Boyfriend Sweater from Hip to Knit).

So it's very frustrating to be putting all this time into knitting a single freakin' sleeve. First there was the gauge thing. I finally got a gauge I could live with, put together a nice little design, and started knitting a sleeve. I was probably six or seven inches along. Then, one night as I was drifting off to sleep, I had a vision.

And that vision said "garter stitch!" So I ripped the damn thing out AGAIN. Argh.

But now it is humming along. For the moment, at least.

(Incidentally, my vision lied. It meant to say "seed stitch!")

*sigh*

So I frequent a forum on Ravelry devoted to the work of a certain designer. (I.e., nothing to do with food, politics, dieting, fat, or various other potential minefields.) Everyone there is very nice and funny, and I love reading it--it's one of the highlights of my day.

But.

People never ever EVER stop talking smack about their bodies. Either it's "I've lost so much weight and I'm so pleased," or it's "I'm [insert fat euphemism here] so I won't do the waist-shaping on this sweater." (And don't even get me started on how wrong that last one is.)

It gets me down. I feel judged for not constantly apologizing for weighing too much, and I feel bad for not caring about what other people consider an accomplishment (because, seriously, diet talk is just plain boring). And I feel bad for women who feel like they need to disguise their ugly, ugly fat so thoroughly that they won't even consider waist shaping in a sweater.

What does the peanut gallery think? Should I ask the mods to ask the group to axe the diet talk? On the one hand, I don't want to ruin anyone's fun. On the other, I don't want my own ruined.

More Malabrigo

I just have a weakness for it; what can I say? We got a new shipment of Malabrigo Sock in at the store, and I had to snap some up before other people got it. I have this problem where I growl at people who try to buy yarn that I want, which is rather bad for business.

Result--Archangel:


And Indiecita:


It's funny--there are tons of scarves and shawlettes designed for sock yarn, but I don't think of those when I buy it. I think "socks!" But looking at these, they'd be fantastic for lace--just imagine the colors. And it would remove the worry of accidental felting. Perhaps I should look into this. Rosemary's patterns call . . .

We Interrupt Your Regularly Scheduled Blog

I usually steer clear of day-to-day non-knitting things here (mostly because anyone who cares about how many hours I worked yesterday has already heard about it. In detail. With gestures.)

But today my mind wandered this direction. I didn't have to go to work today, so I spent the day getting Stuff Done. I cleaned the bathroom, the kitchen, and the living room. Including vacuuming, which I hate with a fiery passion. I sorted all the laundry; a few loads are already done, and the rest will work their way through tonight. I took some pictures so there can be some later bloggy goodness. I made the crust for Thursday's pies. And last--but far from least--I put a pot of soup on the stove. In about ten minutes, I'll add the potatoes and a few more cups of water, and then it'll just sit and cook until we're ready to eat.

"Goodness me," you may say. "You certainly were busy today . . . but what does this have to do with knitting?"

It doesn't, really, but it got me thinking about hard work and creativity and why I do what I do. When I first learned to knit, it was with the goal of knitting socks for a friend. I did so, and I knit off and on throughout college, but I wouldn't say I was passionate about it. That turning point came when I picked it up again in graduate school, again to knit a pair of socks for a friend. This time, knitting turned my brain and it was all I could think about.

I think the reason was that at the time I was desperately searching for a way to produce something meaningful. I'd lost interest in research and didn't know what I wanted to do with my life. (Still don't. If you have any ideas, please get in touch!)

I think it's dangerous to live your life for others, in the sense that denying your own needs and desires doesn't do anybody any good. But I don't think that living to serve--if that's your calling--is a bad thing, either. I did what I did today because it needed to be done, because some of it would cost me if I didn't (either monetarily through fines for not doing my chores or socially because I stink if I don't wash my clothes) and some of it pleases me to do regardless. But in the back of my head, I'm thinking "R3 will like it that the living room is clean, and the Irishman will be thrilled that I did the laundry."

I feel more motivated and gratified if someone else is going to benefit from what I do, whether it's designing a scarf that people knit for their loved ones or making pie crust in a craptastic food processor . . . or writing a blog post that rambles a bit.

What Makes a UFO?

What I'm thinking about today is UFOs versus WIPs and how one moves to the other. If you look at my Ravelry page (Please do! Friend me! I'm so lonely!), I have comparatively few WIPs. Right now, it lists six of them, but this is misleading--both the mobius and the papyrus shawl are actually complete, but waiting on pictures/pattern release to move to finished. So I only have four other projects going, and they all serve specific purposes.

The Irishman's Big Black Socks are portable knitting for the metro or the movies--something I can do a row or two on without having to think. Ditto the Faux Fair Isle socks, which aren't seeing a lot of love because the Big Black Socks are currently filling their conceptual niche.

I have mentioned before that I work at a yarn store (best job EVER). In the downtime, we are allowed--nay, encouraged!--to knit. It seems gauche to knit yarn I purchased elsewhere, so I always have a project in a yarn available there devoted to yarn store time. That project is currently Allégresse.


It's simple enough that I can knit it while talking, and I like the results.

My last WIP is a hat I'm knitting along with my beginning knitting class. I'm following a simple pattern from Hip to Knit. (And no, I'm NOT distributing photocopies. Don't do that, wouldn't do it.)

Being hopelessly kinesthetic, there's no way I could teach anyone unless I was doing the exact same thing. So . . . hat!

There you have it, four WIPs . . . and not one a UFO.

I couldn't tell you why, but it's very rare for me to leave something inactive for a long period of time. Maybe it's just what little Type A is in my personality, but I hate having unfinished knitting. I don't see how other knitters cheerfully leave projects undone for months, even years at a time.

Knitting Is the Same in French

Remember the Lily-of-the-Valley Scarf from way back when?

I frogged it.

What can I say, I just wasn't feeling it. The nupps weren't showing properly, the yarn was too busy for the pattern, it just wasn't gelling.

So rather than knit something I wasn't going to be happy with, I ripped it and cast on this:


It is an Allégresse, and I am very pleased so far.

If you follow the link, you may note that the pattern is available only in French. You may consequently be thinking "what the poop?!" I actually do read French (very, very poorly), but in this case I don't need to read it at all.

"Hold the phone," you're thinking. "How do you knit LACE without reading the pattern?" Why, with a chart, of course! I love charts. They are universal, simple, portable, and simplify even the most complex of patterns.

The next time someone tells you they could never knit from a chart, you have a new carrot to dangle in front of them--bilingual knitting!

*swoon*

So I finally started the Be Mine socks . . . and I luff them. I luff them so!

First, I'm in total swoony love with the yarn (knitswithsticks Wüllenstudio). The color is absolutely gorgeous--a perfect purple shading here and there into a pretty pink. It also feels divine and knits like a dream. It's a wee bit splitty, but I chalk that up to my propensity for the sharpest of sharply pointed needles.

Second, isn't the pattern cute? (The color is most accurate in the first photo--the others were taken on a gloomy, gloomy day.)


I'm not knitting the socks two at a time because--as I have previously noted--circular needles are the devil's handiwork and I honestly like DPNs. But I ADORE working with two-at-a-time instructions (or magic loop, for that matter). Why? Because they don't rely on needle numbers. Since I'm such a loose knitter, I have to shift my stitches every few rows to avoid laddering. With traditional sock patterns, this often means multiple stitch markers or an annoying amount of counting. On the other hand, since there are no needle changes with this kind of pattern, none of the irritating stuff is there. Makes it much easier on me.

As you can see, I'm past the heel turn and gussets on the first sock, so all I need is a bit of a push to finish the foot. If only I had time to knit . . .

Let's Talk Lace

Now, it may not show too much on the blog, but I am obsessed with lace. I consume Anne and Alison's blogs like they are sweet, sweet, lacy crack. I cruise patterns on Ravelry and elsewhere, favorite other people's shawls, and buy more laceweight than I can possibly knit. I've even published a lace pattern and have written several more that are in various stages of development.

So it probably comes as no surprise to anyone that I have quite a few books devoted to lace on my shelves. I thought today I'd discuss my most recent acquisitions, which promise to become favorites.

First is Nancy Bush's Knitted Lace of Estonia.

I have occasionally had--shall we say, issues--with Nancy Bush's patterns. (No way you got that gauge, lady!) But she's a wonderful writer, a wonderful knitter, and the flaws are really mine, not hers.

Knitted Lace of Estonia is a treasure for the serious lace knitter. It begins with a fascinating history of Estonian lace and knitting, then delves right into some Serious Knitting. The technique section alone is worth the price of the book; I've found myself consulting it for advice on other people's patterns!

I haven't knit anything from the book itself yet, but one of the things I love about Ms. Bush's books is that she assumes (nay, encourages!) that knitters will be consulting her work for ideas and influences for their own designs. To that end, she includes an Estonian stitch dictionary--with charts! (Seriously, written instructions just aren't the way to do lace.) In conclusion, A+, would buy again.

The second book I'd like to talk about is also lace, but completely different lace: Alison Jeppson Hyde's Wrapped in Comfort.

Rather than a history of knitting, Wrapped in Comfort is a personal history--a series of vignettes explaining the origin of each lace shawl (or scarf) and giving the reader a glimpse into Alison's life, complete with friends, family, and birds.

There's a handy intro to lace knitting, and the patterns are beautiful, but I confess, I probably won't be knitting them. (Well, maybe. I love the Ann Arbor shawl, and the Redwood Burl shawl is really pretty, and, um, I'm rethinking this.) The point of this book, really, is that reading it--and, unlike many knitting volumes, this book is meant to be read--is like sitting down with a old friend over coffee.

Alison's style is breezy, cheery, and funny as hell. Wrapped in Comfort is like reading a whole lot of her blog entries at once--and I mean that as a compliment. Incidentally, kudos to her editor for leaving her voice intact; it's so rare to find a pattern book that reads as if a real person wrote it.

As I said above, I don't know if I'll ever knit anything from this book, but I'm sure glad to have it and read it whenever I need a little cheer. (And you know, Michelle's shawl would look super in Malabrigo . . .)

Merry Christmas!

I hope you are all spending it the same way I am. That is, at home in your pajama bottoms with nothing compelling you to go outside. Other celebratory details optional.

It's been quite the year for me on many fronts, but it's been eventful in terms of knitting, too. I was inspired to pick up the needles again about year and a half ago by the guy I was dating at the time. (I told him if he picked out the yarn I'd knit him a pair of socks.) What had been a pleasant hobby in college quickly grew into a consuming passion--especially when I got onto Ravelry.

Now, I'm living in a new place, pursuing a different career, dating a different fellow, and have actually published knitting patterns that people want to knit. Seems kind of crazy, but there you have it.

I have lots of thoughts on how knitting builds community and can make life more fulfilling and blah blah blah, but you know what? In lieu of a boring meta-post, I'm going to go knit.

Merry Christmas.

This Married to the Sea cartoon is for Jane. She knows why.

Sweater thoughts

The cardigan progresses apace--the first sleeve is done (pictured below), and I'm about halfway through the second. Sleeves? Are really boring to knit.

This leads to some thoughts I've been having lately, about sweater design in particular. This is the first sweater I've ever knit for myself. As you may have gathered, I'm a big girl. Sleeves for big-girl sweaters are bigger than sleeves for other people, making them 2485 times more boring to knit. (Scientific measurement.) But you know . . . they don't have to be.

In Borders the other day I was paging through a book of sweaters designed for, shall we say, ladies of size.* I asked my companion (my friend R3, an occasional knitter himself) to tell me what the patterns had in common. When he admitted he couldn't see it, I pointed out that all of the sweaters were shapeless. Baggy. Boring.

Now, there are certainly women (and men) in the world who look good in shapeless, baggy, boring sweaters. Some of these women are even plus-sized. But LOTS of us, if not most, look a thousand times better in something fitted. Whether or not you have curves to flaunt, odds are good you still look better in something that doesn't do its best to drown you. Also, can we talk color for a moment? News flash, my designing friends: FAT PEOPLE CAN LOOK GOOD IN RED. Astonishing, inorite?

So I decided to do something about it. Pictured above along with the sleeve is what came for me in the mail today--The Knitter's Handy Book of Sweater Patterns.

I have this vision in my head, you see--of a close-fitting, V-neck, fine-gauge sweater (very like one I already own), in a sophisticated black . . . or maybe a bright crimson. And since it doesn't seem to be out there already--I'll have to design it.

*Note: this is not the famous Big Girl Knits, which features very shapely, fitted (and, not coincidentally, beautiful) sweaters. I've been waiting on the softcover edition and am SO EXCITED you have no idea omg.

Pi are not square

It embarrasses me to post these photos, it really does. Here's the original pi sock, as photographed last year.


And here it is with its mate, as finished earlier this week.


I have NO idea what happened. Same yarn, same needles, same knitter . . . and yet. One thing that did occur to me is that the yarn stretched when I left it wound in balls for a year. This is certainly possible, especially since I hand-wind my yarn, rather tightly. I'm not sure, though. You'd think I'd get to be a tighter knitter as I knit more and gain more experience, but apparently not.

What I'm going to try to take away from this is that it was an incredibly valuable lesson in a lot of ways. I knit a lot in college, but more or less stopped when I went to grad school. I only picked it up again spring of last year at the encouragement of my then-boyfriend. And then . . . then I was obsessed. All of a sudden I was knitting all the time, reading knit blogs, and getting more ambitious by the second. But I still had a long way to go, and these socks demonstrate that. When I first got the idea to knit pi socks, I wouldn't have dreamed of doing a little swatching and writing my own pattern from scratch. I adapted someone else's. It was awful--the pattern didn't suit the concept, the yarn, or the way I knit, and the results were disastrous. Now I would just make my own pattern. (Which I would then proceed not to follow, but that's neither here nor there.)

The other thing was the yarn. I just pulled what I had from the stash without really thinking through what the pattern demanded or the qualities of the yarn I had (in this case, a cotton blend). Nowadays, I'd try to marry the yarn to the pattern.

Finally, I knew when I finished the first sock that nothing worked. But, stubborn me, I didn't frog it and dispose of it then and there. The stubbornness remains a constant, but now I wouldn't have gotten past the cuff on that first sock. I'm much more flexible and imaginative now . . . I only hope I'll continue to grow as I keep on knitting.

And in the meantime, these socks are pretty comfy.