Second Shawl Syndrome

Did you notice that I only gave you progress on Fenna up to our departure from Peoria? What, I'm sure you're wondering, did I do for the 3 and a half hours it took us to get home? That, my friends, is a sad story. A testimony to the importance of Myrna Stahman's clever stitch-marker trick. (Can you tell I am completely enamored of my Shawls and Scarves book? The woman is a great unventer. The Elizabeth Zimmerman of shawls.)

First up. The trick itself. She recommends a fine thread. I kind of lazied it and stole some of Marco's sock yarn - it was handy.

See how it anchors the stitch marker in place and keeps it lined up with the yarn overs? Big deal, you may be thinking. You may have noticed that I don't seem to have any problem keeping my yarn-overs in line for the Barn Raising quilt squares. What's so important about attaching a tail to your stitch-marker when you knit a shawl?

Did you ever notice how you can get along just fine doing something until someone points out that it really is, not wrong so much as risky. You may think you like living on the knitting edge, but once you know, once you've been warned, ignore the warning at your peril.

There I was, happily knitting away on my green shawl as we wended our way Chicago-ward. Anticipating showing off all my progress. Idly thinking how amazing it is that different yarns and garter stitch could still be so engaging. Fondly smoothing my knitting out on my lap. And seeing this.

I really haven't even had the heart to repair it. It's going to be ugly. Those are, after all, increases on either side of the crooked spine of my shawl. Three stitches at the top row are going to increase to 5 stitches, then 7, then 9, and so on, and so on, and so on. Insert heavy sigh.

So, is the lesson here a polemic against greed? Unlike socks, mittens and sweater sleeves, is the rule one shawl at a time, madam, one shawl at a time? Or (more likely to my mind) have I stumbled across a corollary to Second Shipwreck Syndrome?

Fenna

Has it really been almost a month? How did that happen? Where have I been? For that matter, what could I possibly have been doing that would take me away from The Blog for this long?

Okay. Well there was the parade. Then there was Peoria, which we missed most of and I never did find a yarn store, although the kids had a couple of nice walks along the river.

There were hawks.

And I've kind of been in a seminar for the past week (where Diane and I have unearthed another knitter!) and it goes on into next week and the week after, so there was preparing for that. A lot of preparing for that. Reams of it. Stacks of it. My dining room table and parts of the floor are missing and I keep losing things. Like Clare's current reading which disappeared Thursday and that I released uncovered today.

But I digress. You want knitting, don't you? I considered having Clare pinch hit, but I think her knitting is not ready for Prime Time and I do have two knitting stories I can tell you. How about one tonight and then let's see if I can get back here at some point tomorrow (before I have to finish prepping for next week) and tell you the second.

When last seen, I was setting myself up for Myrna Stahman's Fenna shawl, yes? Ah, yes (I checked the Blog). When we left for Peoria -- in the dark and into a steady downpour that devolved into a thunderstorm (not conducive to travel knitting, garter-stitch or no garter stitch) -- I had only knit the back neck-band. Note the cleverness of the construction implicit in that statement.

This is a faroese shawl from the top down. After a short provisional cast-on, she has you knit the border that will rest at the back of your neck, pick up those stitches, release the provisional cast-on and then start knitting the body of the shawl. The border stitches of the shawl carry on from that neckband. The first 15 to 20 rows are filled with excitement. Yarn-overs and mirror-image make-1 increases a la Elizabeth Zimmermann while you shape the shoulders. Then everything settles down into lovely swaths of garter stitch.

Lovely, of course, if you have the right yarn. Which the Fleece Artist Blue Face Leicester most decidedly is. Despite a day spent in fruitless searches for a yarn store and having to attend Functions as a Lawyer's Spouse, this is what I had when we left Peoria.

I tell you, nothing like a good minor league baseball game (the home team won) to help you churn through garter stitch. Or is it, nothing like a bout of garter stitch to get you through a minor league baseball game?

Either/Or

Closer examination of the yarn from yesterday's post revealed that, while I have skeins and skeins of the stuff (it's that Dream in Color Classy in Not Really Cloud Jungle from this), the differences between skeins are considerable. The variations I like best, I don't have enough of. The sensible thing to do would be to knit from two or more skeins at a time but that just seems like too much work. I have enough complicated stuff on my plate right now (parade, Peoria, 4 seasons of Dr. Who, water streaming out of my bathroom ceiling, seminar, Arizona, high school, sheltered workshop - you would not believe the number of agencies who feel they should be involved in that last decision). Honestly, you should be impressed that I'm blogging at all.

Besides, I have complicated knitting aplenty. Two. No, three. No, counting Christopher's gray gansey -- which isn't fully charted yet but I'm getting there -- four guy sweaters. Frankly, at this point, even John's Island Embrace/Splendid Sofa blanket is too complex. I know it's all garter stitch, but there's those three balls of yarn to deal with (see problem with shawl above).

This craving for simplicity is what sent me to the Mustaa Villa version of the Wool Peddler's Shawl in the first place. Alright, alright. So I found it through Kay, but let's face it, if you're thinking garter stitch thoughts, Kay is one of the best resources out there.Then the yarn failed me.

Did I mention my summer resolution to only knit from stash (stop it Diane)? I have, as Clare comments from time to time, a "fabulous stash." Once I actually went looking, I found an amazing embarrassing exhilarating number, a lot of choices. In Cascade 220 alone, I think I could make 6 shawls. I settled on Veridian/4007 for the body. I do so love a nice Cascade 220 Heather. I'll figure out the border when I get there (Pumpkin Spice? Charcoal? Navy?).

Wait. There's more!

In between tossing the stash and making sure (again) that Falco gets the better of Severina Zotica, while poring over Ravelry trying to find something that would let me use up the D in C, I noticed a lot of shawl patterns from Myrna Stahman's book. I knew of her from the Seaman's Scarf patterns, but hadn't focused on her lace and shawl work. In one out of many moments of deep and blinding frustration, I ordered it.

It's wonderful. It would be worth the purchase price just for the stitch marker tip (She does this thing where, to keep the YO's from overwhelming the marker, she fastens a length of waste yarn to it with a lark's head knot. I can't wait to try it). It also had this.

This is the Fenna shawl. It's a top-down Faroese shawl in all garter stitch. A neckband and 13 or so rows of fiddly stuff and then plain and simple garter stitch - with four YO's per row to keep you from falling asleep. Note that it's knit with a hand-dyed variegated yarn. Note how beautifully the shawl displays said yarn. Remember that fabulous stash? It contains some of this.

A fabulous hand-dyed variegated yarn, to wit, Fleece Artist Blue Face Leicester DK in Hercules, purchased a Long Time Ago from Tidal Brook Yarns. Stahman comments that the shawl looks best worked at a gauge of 4 spi, so I'm swatching on US 9/5.5 mm needles.

Either/Or is for sissies; I'm going for Both/And.

What To Do, What To Do?

I had a plan. It's not working. Now what?

Indecision is a terrible thing.

Gravity Is Not My Friend

This is not the post I expected to write. When next I discussed the Bubbly Curtain I was anticipating an entirely different outcome. One that involved victory and me modestly murmuring, "'Aw. T'weren't nuthin'. "

The warning signs were out there. Did I really think Ann and Kay would specify "The curtain shall be small" if they didn't mean it? And what about those pictures on Ravelry and elsewhere? Very few of the larger curtains actually end at the windowsill. Did you notice that? I noticed, I just didn't let it stop me.

I've blocked this this 3 times now. Okay, the first time I blocked it to 30" by 54" instead of 32" by 52". (Hey. They both add up to 84.) At first I was comforted. I knew it had seemed too squooshed. Blocking wider would open the pattern up better. Fifty-two inches would just graze the window sill.

Only it didn't. It still draped 3 or 4 inches beyond. I blocked it again, this time to about 35" by 49". Still too long. I basted in a hem/rod pocket. Still too long. I rolled it another couple of inches and basted again. Fine. At last. I figured I'd let it hang up for a day or so, experience the excessive humidity that comes with this bathroom (I sometimes suspect Marco was a selkie in a former life), then frog it down a few inches or six and re-knit the finishing rows.

Except it keeps growing. Like Silly Putty. Like warm taffy. Like honey spinning down from a spoon.

I'm beginning to explore alternative solutions. Maybe I want to "hang" the curtain by its sides. Maybe I need to make two curtains, the top one picking up the pattern where the bottom one leaves off. Maybe I need to knit shorter and wider and see what gravity does then. Maybe I just want to go ahead and buy some white Rowan Wool Cotton and start over.

In the meantime, I'm starting a shawl.

Hiding

Sometimes I need to have it pointed out that my brain wanders down strange and obscure paths. I was having coffee with one of my favorite knitters this morning. Something she said made me aware that yesterday's post was not the paragon of transparency I thought it was.

Therefore, let me state, simply: the knitting is done. The Very Big Bubbly Curtain is off the needles.

You may not recognize it here. That's because it is in stage two of the blocking process, undergoing that step in metamorphosis that is the knitting equivalent of caterpillar to cocoon. There it is. Concealed. Secluded. Wrapped in an old, colorfast, cotton towel whiling away the time while the miracle of osmosis does it's work. (That's a fancy way of saying I want to go from one sopping wet and one dry object to two damp ones.)

With any luck it will emerge this afternoon and the final transformation will begin. (That means the pinning-out will commence.) After which it will take it's rightful place in the back (not the company) bathroom and you will know where to find me for the next few days.

Knit On*

Let's see. When we left our intrepid heroine she was running a lifeline. Now? Well . . .

The little things that you say and do
Make me want to be with you
Knit on. It's a crazy feeling and
I know you've got me reeling
when you say, "One more row." Knit on.

Well, knit on. It's a crazy feeling and
I know it's got me reeling
I'm so glad that your revealing yourself to me.
Knit on, knit on tell me,
tell me not to be lonely.
Tell me there's the weaving in ends only.
Knit on.

*With Apologies to Buddy Holly.

Reaction

My life has gone all boy-centric lately. All the mad activity of late May and early June has culminated in the family's second graduation. (I actually have a post that I'll finish up and publish about all that. Someday.) It's just that I forgot to think beyond. Now, John is out of school and Marco is on half-days and they're rather lost. They might be, dare I say it, bored. This is a bit of a strain. While I don't feel it is my job to provide them with endless entertainment -- I have even been heard to say that boredom is good for them -- I can't deny that watching them fluctuate between constant videos and aimless wandering about the place is not conducive to peace of mind.

I think all the looming boy-ness is having an effect on my knitting. Once I knew I would fail to finish the bubbly curtain as part of the Graduation Frenzy, I expected I would discard it until the next Family Event loomed. That would be Marco's Graduation. In two years. Plenty of time to pull it out and knit to another artificial deadline. Imagine my surprise, then, when I found I had so much curtain in my lap that the project had become unwieldy. No longer portable. People, this is lace, complete with all the baggage attendant thereupon: yarn overs, k2tog's, and lifelines. I like lace only slightly more than I like stranded knitting, which I despise only slightly more than I despise socks.

Yet it grows. If you look closely, down there on the bottom of the photo, toward the left, you'll see an orange stitch/row marker. B.G. (Before Graduation) ( that would be June 1 through June 5) I knit from there to a couple inches beyond the lifeline. Now we're Post Graduation and instead of stopping and turning to some other, more overtly congenial project, I'm here tracking a chart, counting stitch repeats. It's been marvelous, actually. I'm so occupied counting and muttering that I forget to entertain the resident males. Heck, I forget they need to be entertained.

Things had gotten to the point where standing on the toilet seat and holding the knitting up to the window no longer gave any useful information. The time had come to do a serious measurement, hence my takeover of the kitchen table.

It's pinned out to 30 inches wide, although I could probably yank another inch or so out of it. At that width, I've passed 44 inches. As of yesterday, when I conducted this investigation, I had less than 10 inches to go. Pinned out, my actual row count it 7.2 rows per inch, not the 5 I was guess-timating. Even still, the end is in sight, completion looms, there's a light at the end of the tunnel and it may not be a train.

Not only that, John has started perusing summer program brochures.

UFB

That's an Unidentified Flying Blogger. Definition: Long absent blogger who flies by her computer and attempts to placate her dwindling readers with the most rapidly conceived and written post she's ever done.

It's not my fault, though. We have another graduation here tomorrow. The ceiling fixtures are done. Apparently that wonky branch on the kitchen light that stopped lighting weeks ago? It just wanted to be clean. I've pulled everything down from the top of the cabinets and washed them (the stuff and the cabinets). The thing is, if the cabinets and tchotchkes were that grubby (and they were, trust me), imagine my kitchen curtains. There's really no way to sugar coat this. An examination revealed that they're, well, fuzzy. As in my husband suggested this morning that if I left them, we could start petting them. We were not amused. Those suckers are going to be washed and ironed by the time he gets home. You betcha by golly. I am alive, though, and if not well (I despise washing curtains), at least more or less accounted for.

Now to the placating part. I have some month old yarn pr0n for you. I know it's a month old, because we just got the notice for the June shipment. I'd like to hold out the hope that there's at least another yarn pr0n post in the near future, but I really can't see beyond tomorrow at 5:00 PM.

This is what Erin at Eat.Sleep.Knit sent for the Malabrigo Club May offering.


Ooo. Pretty.

Speaking of curtains, I have breathed life into a long dormant slog. Yes, I had some mad idea that one of the graduations would impel me to finish it. Ten inches per 50 row repeat, Think I can knit another 135 rows and block it by tomorrow?

Me neither.

Not Another Swatch

You know that scene in Hudsucker Proxy? The one where Tim Robbins takes the piece of paper with a circle drawn on it out of his shoe and shows it to Paul Newman and says it's, "You know. For kids," and no one has any idea what it's supposed to be? By the same logic,

It's a sweater.

I don't expect to be invited to take over a multi-million dollar company, or manufacture Hula-hoops for that matter, but I am quite sure I'm making the right sweater. It took a few tries to convince Marc he really needed to look at this thing. The closer examination paid off. He likes the color (Cascade 220 in Mallard). He likes K1P1 ribbing better than K2P2. When he says he wants two cables running up the front, he doesn't mean a pair of two stitch twisted ribs (the top of the cable sampler part). The open cable (at the bottom) got the nod, rather than the twisted rope (more or less in the middle). He wants the two cables on the plain reverse stockinette, no ribbing or anything separating. He had "no idea it was this complex."

He wants it knit on US 7/4.5 mm needles, which blocks out at a gauge of 5 stitches per inch, not US 8/5mm needles that blocks at 4.5. All right, I might have persuaded him to that. I think the cables look more cleanly defined. That would be the pair to the left of the safety pin.

Of course, I don't have a clue where to place the cables, although I'm fairly sure I don't want to place them dead center. Maybe the center after I've decreased for the armscye? Still, I can knit the back and both the sleeves before I have to actually address that little difficulty. That, or I'll be knitting another Really Big Swatch.

Does It Count?

Way back when, I fell in love with the Barn Raising Quilt from Knitalong. Finally, I thought, an excuse to buy all that cool yarn that sock knitters so selfishly hogged for themselves. I let myself run wild. Then came the realization that I do not have Larissa Brown's eye for color. Looking at the yarn I had collected, I could only envision something that would look like a 2 year old gone wild with the 64 color crayon box. Or the color equivalent of what the other 199 type-writing monkeys would turn out while the 200th wrote Hamlet.

Still, I started in. Knitted a square and loved it. Knitted another and loved it, too. Added a few more skeins of sock yarn. Knitted another square or so. Then started lining them up. That's when I realized they would only fight. Adding squares seemed to simply increase the violence of what was turning into a free-for-all. When the squares began mud-wrestling, I stopped knitting.

Thank heaven last month Larissa posted about making Barn-raising quilts for the Sock Summit to benefit Doctors Without Borders. It made me dig out my squares and rethink my own quilt. It dawned on me that I could let some other creative mind do the color work for me. All I had to do was choose my favorite skein and match the rest of the squares to it.

My quilt will now be based on Claudia Handpaints' Walk in the Woods. I've sorted out the squares and skeins. I have 5 colors that co-ordinate with it: Shibui Knits Sock in Dragonfly (the teal) and Pagoda (the copper), Claudia Handpaints in Moss, Indigo and Taupe.

I'm giving up Shibui Knits Midnight (the blue, too bright), Claudia Handpaints Odd Duck (the pale blue-green, too much blue-green with the Dragonfly) and Cherry Tree Hill Spring Frost (the multi-colored, too washed-out looking next to Walk in the Woods). Once I finish up with Odd Duck and block it, those squares will join the Knitalong in Portland.

They're due by June 9. Having paid express shipping to the West Coast (ouch) once this year for afghans for Afghans (I had to get that in because Cathy had asked and I never answered), I want to make sure I get these off in a more timely manner.

Who knew limits (okay, and a little do-gooding) could be so liberating. Not to mention what separating the combatants has done for my knitting

Steps

Such excitement. We have another college graduate in the family. If I told you there was knitting here, it would be a lie. I'm going to argue precedent, though. If the quintessential knitting blogger, the Yarn Harlot herself, takes the occasional moment to write about being a parent at pivotal moments in the lives of her kids, so can I. Right now, for this post, you'll just have to let me reflect and reminisce a bit.

It's a scary thing to have a College Graduate back. The pitfalls I imagine are myriad and deep. What if I don't know how to be mom to a fully adult offspring? This escalates to, what if I'm so happy she's here I make her feel she can't leave? It's a short and slippery slide from there to the assumption that I truly am one of those psycho-Moms who hedge and trap their children into living a life not their own ("She just goes a little mad sometimes."*).

I may have an overactive imagination.

While wallowing in all this, I found myself remembering when she was 10 months old. She did that pre-walking thing, where they drag you hither and yon, bent double behind them, while they clutch your thumbs. I was so sure she could walk that I tricked persuaded her into holding the fingers of a mitten in each hand while I held the cuffs. After a few steps I let go. Sure enough, she took off down the hallway, as sure on her feet as if she had been walking for months. I thought I was so smart. Then she looked back. Ten months old and she had already mastered That Look. She, of course, never practiced with me again without checking that she actually had hold of me. She wasn't the only one who learned something that day. I never tried to repeat that bit of sleight of hand.

There's able, and then there's ready, and the two aren't always the same. More importantly, I'm not the one who knows. She was so happy, laughing out loud, practicing walking while she held on. When she was ready, she let go. When she was ready, I didn't insist she hold on. If I was that smart then, why would I think I'm less smart now?

It's a transcendent feeling, to superimpose that child over the one striding across the stage in full academic regalia to shake the Dean's hand.

It's a shame I forgot my camera. Now if I can only figure out how to get pictures off of my cell phone.

*Norman Bates on his mom.

Begone Dull Knitting

Those of you who have read the occasional rail I've made against sock knitting may be surprised to hear this. I thought I was going to like knitting socks. I really did. Deep in my secret heart of hearts, I was waiting to be persuaded. Expecting to slide gleefully down the slippery slope. Sure I was merely looking for an excuse a cause to remove the barriers in my heart and to devolve into an avid, nay rabid, knitter of socks. Like Benedict, who when he said he would die a bachelor did not think he would live until he were married, I thought once I found a reason to knit socks that would let me save face, it would be all over for me. I thought I had found it in the most recent afghans for Afghans campaign.

Then I knit a sock. It wasn't pleasant. I knit another one anyway. Nope, nothing. Then I knit a third in different yarn. Still not good. I have now, finally knit the fourth sock and you know what? I can unequivocally state that I hate knitting socks. I would rather knit cables from written instructions.

This was unexpected. I was so sure I would join the ranks of sock knitters that I went playing on the Net and found cute and clever sock kits for babies with baby-size sock blockers from Lavender Sheep. At least I bought the ones that were on sale. The kit on the left is 100% merino wool in Cranberry. The one on the right is a wool/tencel blend in Chocolate Cherry. I could have sworn there was a third kit, but it seems well and truly buried. I should mention that the yarn looks darker than it is, at least on my screen.

I will never use these. You want them? Leave a comment or send me an email. In the event that more than two of you respond, I'll pull names out of a knitting bag. If the possibly mythical third kit shows up, I'll pull a third name. Just get these out of here, will ya?

Plurals

As in more than one.

A flock, a gaggle, a skulk, an exaltation.

A muster, a drove, a brood, a covey.

A pod, a pride, a murder, a school.

A skein a shrewdness, a sloth, a sord.

Multiple finished objects. How astonishing. I won't actually get them out the door today. They're still damp. But with the help of UPS Next Day Air I should make the May 15 deadline.

For the linguistically oriented types, the collective nouns listed above apply, in order, to birds, geese, foxes (or vermin or thieves and which I will, from this moment forward, use to refer to hand-knit socks), larks; peacocks, cattle on the move, young birds, quail (or grouse or partridges); whales, lions, crows, fish; geese again, apes, bears, mallards. (Then there's a sounder of boar, a wisp of snipe, a kindle of kittens, a cete of badger, a nide of partridge. I love English.)

Distractions

Oh, no fair. Look what UPS up and left outside my door on no provocation whatsoever. Okay, maybe I saw them in the Spring/Summer Knit Simple. And maybe I found my way over to Bagsmith. And I suppose I may have gotten a bit carried away and I might have added a few things to my shopping cart. But that's all. Other than that it was a complete blindside. I had nothing to do with it.

Meet Etienne, Sabine, Rose and Luc.

These are designed like the old-fashioned climbing toys, pull the strings alternately and the little person moves up, let the strings go and s/he slides to the bottom. I had one with two little wooden climbers that came with me to college and was the focus of a surprising amount of attention - no one could come into my room and resist them. I think they finally succumbed to my children.

I admit, I have other plans for these guys. Remember the ornaments I got for Christmas? The ones nattily decked out in knitwear? Wouldn't these be cool companions (eventually)? With a crown instead of a cap I could have Cinderella or Prince Charming. Add a couple of broken toothpicks and seed beads and I could make a knitter. (Note all those hypotheticals. I do love living in the hypothetical moment; so fraught with possibility.)

All I can say is, good thing I finished the blanket. That, and the yellow sock is lucky I don't have any US 1/2.25 mm needles in the house.

Knitting a la Lewis Carroll

I'm not backsliding. Really. I'm knitting, rather frantically in point of fact. I have had cause, in the course of my knitting career, to bemoan my acquaintance with the Red Queen, she who informs Alice that it takes all the running you can do to stay in the same place and that "if you want to get somewhere else you must run at least twice as fast as that."

Twelve rows and then I can knit the border of the Field of Green afghan. I've cast-on for the second yellow sock (devoutly hoping I stumbled across the same YouYube video for the twisted German cast-on I used last time). They're due at A4A by May 15. I want them out of here Monday. I can do this if I apply the Red Queen's logic. Then and only then I can knit anything else at all.

See you when I'm back on this side of the looking glass.

Clearing the Decks

My Dad served in the Navy during WWII. I suppose it was inevitable that the occasional naval catch-phrase should find its way into my vocabulary. "Clear the decks" was what you did to prepare for battle.

My adversary? The gansey sweater. Well, that and two graduations, but it's the knitting you all want to hear about, right?

That which needs clearing? Two projects. Once they're done, I can ship them off to Afghans for Afghans.

The green blanket. Allowing for the roll-under stockinette borders along the sides, it looks like it will block out at 40 inches wide. According the the a4A guidelines, it should then be 45 inches long. I need 6 more inches, including a 7 row stockinette border finished off with 2 rows of garter stitch. This is not a problem. I love the green blanket. On days like today, when the cloud cover is so thick it looks like twilight in here, the green blanket is an especially welcome and cheering companion, calling forth recognition and recollection of all the new leaves budding on all the trees up and down my neighborhood.

The yellow sock. Ick. I have to find the needles. For that matter, I have to remember what size; was it US 2 or 3? I have to find the yarn. I have to remember which pattern I used. I have to find the online video for the twisted continental long-tail whatever cast-on that I opted for based on Diane's recommendation when I complained that I thought the cast on for the blue socks wasn't as stretchy as I wanted. (Yes, I know that was a run-on sentence. I did it on purpose. It gives dramatic emphasis to my extreme and signal distaste for sock knitting.)

Guess which one I'll be working on today.

Closure

Ta lah-di da.

Done, right down to the braided bow tassels for the corners. Except I don't like it. Three colors was just a bad design decision. Worse, there's a mistake. Well, there are several, but there's one that even a non-knitter will find hard to miss.

Too bad. The baby's almost a year old and this has got to go. Besides, Marc has issued dire threats if I do anything to this beyond the final blocking.

Pattern - A sort of free verse variation on the Blessingway Blanket by Hannah Cuviello from Knitalong. With help from Barbara Walker (center panel cable) and Elsebeth Lavold (cable technique and inspiration for corner panels).
Yarn - Blue Sky Dyed Cotton, 2 in 616/Sky (the light blue), 2 in 628/Azul (the green), and Blue Sky Organic Cotton, 3 in 80/Bone.
Needles - Addi Turbos, size US 9.5.5 mm.

Meh. Unless I want to do yarn reclamation, I'm out of the light blue yarn anyway.

Getting Things Done

Guilt disguised as superstition is a powerful motivator.

I have two projects that have my husband's stamp on them.One involves the current, fruitless and, I have discovered, hopeless search for non-Rowan indigo tweed yarn. The Project Which Must Not Be Named is the second. The one where I achieved triangularity and then promptly abandoned. The only thing he has ever actually asked me to knit.

What, you may wonder, has my failure to progress on the second have to do with my complete inability to find an acceptable yarn substitute for the first?

First, you need to hear the yarn story. I will not even pretend that I wouldn't gleefully sacrifice my brother's sweater if I had enough of the Scottish Tweed Aran to make a cabled-cardigan for a former wrestler, but I don't. I only bought enough for a plain EZ pullover, about 400 yards short of the cabled cardigan requirement.

The Debbie Bliss Donegal Tweed Chunky, which I misidentified as "Indigo" (or Denim or something) came closest. I went on repeated searches trying to locate a stockist who had Indigo Aran weight on hand. My frustration was a benediction from the knitting gods. The Chunky Donegal Tweed was actually "Navy" and the color isn't available in the Aran weight yarn. Other navy or indigo tweeds are either too dark, too light or involve lavender.

While still in the throes of that frustration I had an epiphany (I know, out of season, but there it is. One cannot always control these things). Clearly, I had failed to find the right yarn because I had squirrelled away the Not Quite A Blessingway Blanket. If I want to make any progress on this newest sweater project, I must get the Blessingway Blanket done. I needed the closure.

Of course, first I had to find it. It's knit in pieces and there was good reason to fear that they were scattered. The stash has been tossed repeatedly since October, when I abandoned, I mean, last worked on the project.

As the pieces started surfacing I had to face a series of dispiriting facts. I had worked barely two inches on the second ecru panel. In my fantasy world it was about half done. I couldn't find the triangle. Let's just say the temper tantrum I threw was rewarded, but it did the stash no good, no good at all. Worst, I didn't write down the final formula for placing the short rows, hence all the little row markers from my attempt to read my knitting.

For posterity, let me note here that I did them every other right side row starting at row 15 until the apex of the triangle, where I worked a short row for three consecutive right-side rows, that is, the apex and the right side rows immediately on either side for a total of 31 sets of short rows. It took me three days to knit the second triangle, where I only needed an afternoon for the first one.

All things considered, I suppose I shouldn't have been surprised when the weather warmed up outside, which means the radiators are off inside, which means the second triangle is taking forever to dry (it's cotton, after all). I had so hoped to finish it today.

While closure may still elude me, I had a second epiphany. It came after I finished the second ecru panel (just in case you think superstitions are superstitious). There is no substitute for Rowan Scottish Tweed Aran in Indigo. I'm going back to Cascade 220 for Marc's sweater. I'm thinking 2448/Mallard.

Prepare To Be Amazed

I know I am.

(Of course there's a story. Today, though, I'm just going to wallow bask for a while before I have to face attaching everything. In the meantime, please note that I chose Earth Day to blog about my organic cotton project.)