Weaving in Loose Ends

There have been a few topics I promised in prior posts but neglected to expand upon.  Here they are:


1.  Twice-Knit Knitting, or How Mom and Dad Got Together

Ok, so that's a strong way of putting it.  There were many other chapters in my parents' love story before they got married.  But I guess Twice-Knit Knitting could easily have been Chapter One. It's a sweet story, one that I will probably butcher, since I didn't get the amazing story-telling gene from my Grampa (but that's a topic for another day).


The story starts with my Mom's Mom.  Grandma Murphy is one of the most creative women I know, blessed with the entrepreneurial spirit, the drive to make things happen, and the sass/savvy of a Southern businesswoman.  Off the top of my head, her ventures include selling stoves, owning a plant store & caring for the plants of local businesses, creating and selling appliqued (insert accent aigu) shirts, and designing, making, and selling western wear under her business, Lee Wearable Art.  She also patented two knitting techniques:  knitting in a circle with two straight needles, and double-knitting.  And as if that weren't enough, she also published a knitting book, Twice-Knit Knitting.


It's out of print (sigh), but I have a copy on order through Amazon.  I'll have to scan and post some of the pictures here in a future blog; my Mom, Aunts, and Grampa all modeled her designs.  


See that lovely skimpy number on the right?  The blue bikini?  Yep, my Mom (then-15? 16?) modeled it on a beach (ordinary).  On a beach in winter (out of the ordinary).  To further put in in perspective, there was snow on the beach that day.  They had to hunt around and finally found a spot on the rocks where you couldn't see the snow!  My poor Mom ... by the end of the shoot her nipples were probably as blue as the bikini itself.


So the story continues that my other Grandma, Dad's Mom, bought a copy of Grandma Murphy's book.  Somehow my Dad got his eye on that picture of my Mom, and he cut it out of his Mom's knitting book, and stuck it in the side of his mirror in his room.  All together now:  Awwwwwah!  


And life went on ... and their paths diverged, then converged, and six years after Grandma's book was published, they were married.  Next month marks their 36th anniversary :)


2.  In January I mentioned a "new knitting venture" that I have been considering.

Last post, I showed you the hats I knit for my baby niece while I was down in Virginia.  My sister told me that at one of Leah's doctor's appointments, the nurses and other ladies loved Leah's hat.  She said if I knit up a bunch, she thought I could sell them at $8 - $10 apiece.  


The next week, I found the yarn I used for the hats on Joann.com at a nice discount.  So I bought up a dozen skeins.  I could make 24 hats in different sizes out of that dozen.  I thought maybe I could sell them to friends or referrals.


But the winter has been mild (to say the least) and other projects distracted me from my venture.  So I still might knit up those hats, but maybe I'll give them to charity.  This article particularly moved me to consider it:


http://www.cleveland.com/opinion/index.ssf/2012/01/knitters_warm-hearted_bequest.html 


I have a friend near Cleveland, OH who knits, too.  We talked about setting up a non-profit knitting club ... maybe coordinating with our knitting friends around the country to donate one item a month.  It's not much, but a nice pair of mittens or a scarf or a hat could mean the world to one child walking to school in the winter.


3.  Why Pictures Are So Essential To The Success of Blogs

"How can one possibly pay attention to a book with no pictures in it?" 
~Alice, from Alice's Adventures in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll


I confess.  I'm as guilty as any of that most offensive of all offenses: Not reading a blog post, just looking at the pictures.  As I said before, we live in the age of Google Images and Pinterest, where we can visually gorge our appetite for knitting inspiration at the strike of a few keys.  Search for "knit" or "yarn" and you have a smorgasbord of tactile delights.  


Don't deny it: it's human nature that our five senses tend to overpower our intelligence or imagination.  In fact, it is usually for the lack of the former that the latter wins out.


I'm not sure what more I can say on that topic except that, knowing this to be true, I've tried to use more photos in my blogs.  


As an aside, for some reason I like taking up-close pictures of my projects.  I never took a photography class - maybe I should.  It just seems to break up the monotony of the standard project-shot-from-above angle.


So there you have it.  If your curiosity was burning, I hope that was enough to quell the flame.  Now I must leave you, to seam up the cream zippy cardigan!  My sister threw down the gauntlet when I told her about it and she said "Oh, so when will she be getting it?  Next year?  The year after?"  


Apparently I have a reputation for unfinished projects that I need to repair.


(Darnit, it was ok when only I knew it, but now everyone else has noticed too)


Mrs. Pi   

2012 FO #3!

It's March and I have officially completed my third project of the year.  I am also behind schedule by six projects.  


See, at the beginning of the year I made this list.  It wasn't New Year's Resolutions.  It was more than that.  It was like, a 12-month agenda.  A long-term to-do list.  A 2012 Vision.  I left it at work today, so I can't go into much detail right now, but sufficed to say I planned on completing 3 FOs (Finished Objects) per month throughout 2012.  Furthermore, at least one of those FOs each month had to be a pair of socks.  


What?  I want more hand-knit socks.  So sue me.  


Today at lunch, as I was weaving in the ends of Missie's Wrist Warmers, it dawned on me just how far behind I already am (33% to plan year-to-date, ugh).


So then I made a list of My SOs (Started Objects):


1.  Munchkin Socks (a.k.a. Skyp to Oz socks) - started 2012
2.  Hedgerow Socks - started 2011
3.  Brown Sweater (a.k.a. SockSweater) - started 2008
4.  Cream Baby Sweater - started 2011
5.  Green Baby Blanket - started 2011
6.  Pink Baby Blanket (this one has a fun story to it - remind me to tell it sometime) - started in 2009? 2010?
7.  Crochet Afghan (mauve) - started in 2004? 2005?
8.  Knit Afghan - started in 2007?
9.  Crochet Baby Blanket - started in 2003? 2004?
10.  Green Vest - started in 2007? 2008?
11.  Thrummed Mittens - started in 2011
12.  Green - or were they blue? - socks - no idea when I started these
13.  "Poodle" scarf - no idea when I started this


S.O.S. is right.  I'm swimming (sinking?) in SOs!


As you can see, I am actually well on my way to finishing 9 objets d'art by the end of March.  I just have to get moving on all my WIPs (works in progress)!  


Which should come first?  What do you think, first in, first out (FIFO)?  Last in, first out (LIFO)?


(That was shout-out to all my accounting peeps out there)


So hopefully before I start ANYTHING NEW I will finish some of the pieces that have been sitting in various baskets and bins (packages, boxes, and bags), yearning for completion for, in some cases, nearly a decade.


Wow.  I am old.


Back to Missie's Wrist Warmers.  Remember how I told you I had a friend offer to barter with me for a pair of wrist warmers?  That was Missie.  She has perfect timing, because just this past Saturday I got an exciting little package in the mail from the Seed Savers Exchange in Decorah, IA.  Yes, that Decorah.  It contained the following:

One packet of Green Husk Tomatillo seeds:

One packet of Flame Lettuce seeds:

One packet of Grandpa Admire's Lettuce seeds:

One packet of Beam's Yellow Pear Tomato seeds:

(which I am SO excited to try)


AND


(my favorite)


One packet of Isis Candy Cherry Tomato seeds:

Just looking at this picture takes me back to my childhood.  I cannot tell you the last time I had a legit cherry tomato.  For years and years and years I've had grape tomatoes, which are fine.  They're ok.  But they do not, by any means, compare to home-grown cherry tomatoes.  I CAN'T WAIT for the harvest!!!


So today, after weaving in all the ends, and attaching a cute little label, I mailed off Missie's Wrist Warmers in exchange:

If you look closely you'll see that my nom de plume has replaced my Christian name.  It's magic!

Yes, I'm shamelessly flashing the *bling*.  Diamonds are, in my case, a girl's very close friend - so close, in fact that I am rarely separated from them.  Only when they are sitting in the cleaning solution while I shower.  If I am getting clean, my diamonds should also get clean.


Diamonds ... diamonds ... hmm.  Diamonds.  Sounds like a segue to me:

I used a diamond pattern in Missie's Wrist Warmers, because it's pretty.

Congratulations, Missie, it's twins!


The palms are exactly identical to the backs:

For simplicity's sake.  Both to the knitter and the wearer.  Who wants to fumble around trying to figure out which is left and which is right?  In this case, they're both right.


(See what I did there?)


If I could go back and change one thing, after looking at these photos, I'd alter the thumb somehow.  Not sure what I could do differently ... it just looks very bulky.


If I could change two things, I'd reconfigure the gussets.  As much as I like the seed/British moss stitch, I think if I had done the entire gusset in stockinette it would have looked more ... tailored.


I hope Missie likes them.  I'll give a full report when I hear!  I'll also give a full report on the upcoming veggie crop.  Yay!


Mrs. Pi

Radio Silence

Of late, I have been working on a super-secret project, the culmination of which just happened to coincide with the anniversary of my mom's birth.  Ok, yes, it wasn't coincidental at all.  I was working on a cowl for her, and seeing as she's one of my two loyal followers, I could not post anything about the project!

Since we celebrated yesterday and Mom is in both knowledge and possession of it, here it is:

Ta-da!  I think I shall call her Glenda.

Glenda's a simple design, but one which complimented the Alpaca/bamboo blend yarn (Mirasol Qina) nicely.  I used larger-sized (US 15) straight needles to achieve a nice drape in the stockinette section (8 stitches long), smaller-sized (US 9) in the knit section (6st long), and used the kitchener stitch to join the ends into one continuous loop.  

I just cannot describe rightly how soft the knit side of the stockinette is.  You'll have to either take my word for it or hustle to your LYS and buy some Qina!

Some more Glenda shots:

Modeled by the always-fashionable Ikea chair.

I needed a genus humanis model but was feeling camera-shy.

A fun fact on this project (and segue to a new topic): It was supposed to have another color. Je vous raconterai l'histoire:

One day, a few Saturdays ago (January 28), I was feeling particularly adventurous after having just finished proctoring a standardized test (actually, not to toot my own horn, but it was my first day as a room supervisor ... oooOOOooo fancy).  It was a lovely day, I had been sitting for hours, and my spirit felt like sending my body bravely into the unknown. 

Just the day before, I had noticed the name of a LYS in a neighboring town referenced in the back of Interweave Knits magazine, and, vaguely recalling the address, I embarked for this destination known-and-unknown.  

Oh, alright, I'll admit it - I suppose you'd find out sooner or later - 

I own NEITHER

a smartphone, NOR 

a GPS.  

Before you cry "Luddite!" ... 

Oh very well, you may call me "Luddite."  

Anyway, my instincts/memory served me well, and I located the LYS, which as it so happens was having a wonderful sale.  Serendipity!  So of course, I did what any stash-busting, rational knitter would do and purchased $50 worth of yarn.

My finds:

I was feeling a touch of buyer's remorse and left my purchases in the bag for one whole day, considering making a return.  But ... since all sales were final ...

I. Love. Yarn.  Especially piles of it.

These four beauties were sharing the same cubby-hole at Village Wool.  So, naturally, I assumed they were different colorways of the same yarn.  Well, crack the whip and call me a Luddite ass, and while you're at it, consider yourself the same because you know what happened.

Lovely Yellow was actually Mirasol Nuna (as pictured), which wouldn't have been so bad except the fact that:

1) Nuna is a completely different weight than Qina (sport-weight 5-ply vs. DK-weight 8-ply), and 

2) Nuna is a merino blend.  This does not work well as a gift for a woman with a lanolin allergy.

So, poor sunshine-on-a-daisy's-center Nuna is sitting in the craft room, while I ponder her fate.  What CAN I do with 50g of a sport-weight silk/merino/bamboo blend?

Happy Birthday, Mom!

Mrs. Pi

P.S. I understand but will only briefly acknowledge the fact that I could have posted on any other subject in the past few weeks.

P.P.S. I shall argue - topic for another day - that a blog sans pictures is destined for failure.  At least, in the age of Pinterest, it is. 

P.P.P.S.  I may have given away the entire topic of that future post in my second post-script.  Fret not, it shall still be witty and interesting, even if you now know the punch-line before the joke.

Gifts Come In All Forms

It is a supreme delight for knitters to be surrounded by people who accept us and our craft (read: obsession).  But let me tell you, it is indescribable when my loved ones actively spur me on.  It's like the difference between a parent telling their children they sing well, and requesting them to perform "Ave Maria" for the family and friends.  For whatever reason (human nature), no matter how genuine and heartfelt, words alone do not suffice to convince.  This is a truth well-established (and demonstrated in adage) since long before our time.

I've been lucky enough to have actions speaking louder than words all around me lately, concerning my knitting:  

1. Two friends recently commissioned me to knit for them.  The first completed request was a shining success: Debra's mittens were delivered to Friend 1, who beamed at them, then insisted upon paying for them.  And more than just enough cover the price of the yarn.  

This demonstration was considerably poignant for me.  I've had plenty of people request knitted items, and I never charge friends for my work, above and beyond the price of the fiber, and sometimes not even then.  I am not exaggerating when I say that the satisfaction of meeting a desire when "store-bought just didn't cut it" is ... euphoric.  

But often the requests I get from loved ones come with no acknowledgement (likely because of a lack of knowledge) of how much time and work it takes to deliver on those requests.  And that's fine.  I'm 100% okay with knitting being taken for granted.  The craft and my fellow crafters are taken for granted every day.  But the request itself; it acknowledges that someone likes what I do, likes it enough for that someone to want to own something I made.

I probably don't need to tell you it takes me hours to finish a pair of hand-knit mittens.  It's likely choir-preaching to emphasize that the work isn't limited to the act itself, but also the yarn selection, pattern research, gauging, and any number of "false starts"  - knitting a number of rows before deciding it's just not "right" and having to rip it all out and start over.  What can I say, like many in my craft, I'm a perfectionist.

I admit it, I also love compliments and recognition.  But either of those - I know you know what I'm saying here - either compliments or recognition mean so much more when unprompted.  I honestly wouldn't mention the work and time that goes into a project here if this blog weren't nearly anonymous (I've shared the url with a couple friends. Two. Literally 2 friends.).  Like many of my fellow fibre-freaks, anonymity is part of the rush.  Ask a knit-bomber.  We know why the elves helped the shoemaker.  I concur with the Tooth Fairy and Santa Claus.  If it paid enough to subsist on, I'd want to be the Knitting Faerie (it's so much more fantastical spelled that way).


So you see why being paid - my first item sold - tickled me.  I imagine it's the same feeling parents get when, years later, they're hugged and thanked for that special gift - the Cabbage Patch doll they waited for hours to secure, or the bicycle they scrimped and saved for, the myriad other items for which they went uncredited at the time.

My other requestor insisted on bartering with me for the wrist warmers she wanted.  She said she'd order me some heirloom vegetable seeds in exchange for me designing and knitting her some wrist warmers.  Again, the offer touched me.  I'm not even sure she realizes that what she proposed was extraordinary.


2.  Christmas was another demonstration of love and acceptance for me and my knitting:

My husband and my Mom both contributed to my arsenal of tools, reference materials, and media.  From the left:
- Four skeins of KnitPicks Imagination Hand Painted Sock Yarn, in Ruby Slippers and Munchkin,
- A gorgeous hand-thrown yarn bowl (regrettably I don't have the artist information yet - to be credited!),
- A subscription to Interweave Knits magazine,
- The Knitter's Book of Finishing Techniques by Nancy M. Wiseman
 

(I already wound the hanks of yarn into lovely usable cakes and couldn't resist starting a sock with the Munchkin colorway.  By the way, my still-to-be-named alpaca friend wasn't a Christmas present but he needed to make an appearance)

- A darning egg to maintain my hand-knit sock collection
- A lovely print, Balancing Act, from Sheep Incognito: The Art of Conni Togel

- A KnitPicks Corrie Vest kit

- A new project tote from Vera Bradley (in Very Berry Paisley)

(I got the matching needle case during a post-Christmas sale for $7.50!! Oh, how I love me a good deal!)

 

(The tote has plenty of room for a few small projects like Mel's Wrist Warmers, my nook, and a book I'm reading for book club, as well as convenient inside pockets to hold my nook charger, a small sewing kit, a snack, and a tube of my favorite handcream - L'Occitane en Provence lavender creme a mains.  Yes, you're right - next Christmas I definitely need to ask for a dpn holder.)

- and, Sock Blockers (in large) from KnitPicks

How did two non-knitters know with such precision how to buy such perfect gifts for a seasoned knitter?  Well firstly, they love, care, and listen to me.  And two other reasons.  

Back in the fall, my Mom was so kind as to accompany me on my first trip to the famous Duchess County Sheep & Wool Festival a.k.a. Rhinebeck.  By the way, this trip is definitely worth documenting in my next blog post - remind me to follow up.  She (unbeknownst to me) diligently took mental notes and business cards at each stand where I ooh'd and aah'd the most.  Oh, how I love my Momma!


Secondly, I have been maintaining an active WishList on KnitPicks.  I simply forwarded the wishlist link to my husband, and he chose a few items all on his own!  I love wishlists.  That way, the gifts are still incredibly thoughtful, but also perfectly tailored to my tastes :)


As for the Vera Bradley tote, he knew my favorite pattern and chose the style completely all his own, in a stroke of extraordinary brilliance and thoughtfulness.  When I asked how he knew I would love it, he simply replied that he thought it would be good for carrying projects.  Reader, I struck gold in the husband-department.


Blessed with support and love from friends and family.  I'm a lucky, lucky girl!


Mrs. Pi

Living the Lie ... er, Dream

You know that awkward thing some bloggers do, when they haven't posted for a while?  They are very apologetic (not this kind) and make up some excuse for their absence, usually related to a holiday, or general busyness and some other kind of distraction.  I'm not going to do that.


Up until recently I was under the impression I had to do what I love for a living.  That if I didn't do that one thing that I'm most passionate about (read: knitting), and make lots of money doing it, I'd ultimately be unsatisfied, and I could never call myself a success.  I'd be living a lie.


And since I was not knitting for a living, there were times (usually preceding this lady's arrival) when I felt rather unsatisfied, like a failure, a liar for being in insurance instead of the fibre-arts.  Or a sell-out.  Or a coward.  


Then I got a wake-up call - or perhaps a satisfying confirmation of what I already knew - from one Ms. Penelope Trunk.  It's appropriate that one of her start-up ventures was called Brazen Careerist.  Ms. Trunk is nothing if not brashly honest, unassumingly witty, and painfully poignant.  Her writing is uncomfortable, challenging, like nothing you'll ever read.  And I think I love her for it.


Where or when did I originally get fed that line, that I need to do what I love for a living?  Was it one specific place?  Did it spontaneously generate in my mind, like flies on a cheesecloth?  Or does it permeate from every corner of popular media?  We've all read that story.  Jane or John Doe finds her/himself in dire straits (after all, you can get neither money for nothing nor chicks for free), begins by doing something they love, and they persevere, and toil, and by the sweat of their brow, they've made millions and are living it up in Zihuatanejo.  Oh, wait; no one loves digging tunnels in prison walls, not even Edmond Dantes (insert accent grave).  But he was rich, too.  Maybe they were onto something.


I can tell you one thing.  From the time I started college, I was bombarded with this word: Vocation.  Ok, two words: Vocation and Calling.  New vocab for me, but apparently not for Christian Academia.  From Day One in college - actually, in the case of the College Honors Program, prior to day one, during stimulating summer reading - I was told, directly and indirectly, that I have a sole purpose.  I have gifts and talents which brand me for one profession, and the purpose of college is to prepare myself for the rest of my life.  But no pressure or anything (to overuse a phrase).


So naturally, I changed my major 4 times from French to Accounting to International Business to Business Administration before graduating.  In four years, I might add.


But you know what I'm saying.  It's out there.  Taunting us.  "Other people are doing what they love and are madly successful, so why aren't you?"


But, like Ms. Trunk, I love many things.  Cheese, and pie, and math, to name a few.  I also love learning new things and stretching myself and meeting new people and finding out what I'm capable of, finding I can do things that I never thought I could (public speaking, for one).  What else do I love about my job?  Data analysis, and problem-solving, and learning how to become a leader.  Mentoring, being mentored, and gaining business acumen.  Building relationships I'll have for a long time.  Having a LinkedIn profile.  These are things I might be able to do as a professional knitter, perhaps.  But not like I can in the Insurance industry.


But, all that being said, I'm still trying a new knitting venture.  More on that next time.

Mrs. Pi

What's In A Name?

I suppose it's about time to explain the moniker.  Nom de plume.  Pen name.

First, let me list for you my passions: those themes or objects or influences in my life which compel me, speak to me, and are there completely of my own choice and volition.  Things I pursue because I want to, not because I'm compelled to - aside from my own desire.  I guess you could apply the word "favorite" ... but it just doesn't speak to the intensity I am wont to feel about these things, as if they speak to my very soul (my apologies, Maria).

All the same, these are a few: 

1) Fibre Arts

2) Math (and numbers),

3) Books (the paper kind, though I'm warming up to the electronic kind, and I have long-enjoyed the audio kind),

4) Francophonia (I made that word up, just now. Meaning: all things related to the french-speaking world),

5) Theatre and other Fantasia,

6) Cheese, and

7) Pie.  

Sure, there are others, but these are Major.  I find I have already carried these themes in my recent blogging, as also they appear in my life.  

Aaand back to topic numero uno.  Really, Mrs. Pi is a pseudonym with many levels.  On the superficial, I'm sure you've got two so far.  

I am a Pie Person.  I have never liked cake.  It lacks complexity.  It's too much of one thing: sweet.  I love the culinary juxtaposition of the savory, dry crust and the sweet, moist filling of a pie.  I love the endless combinations, the possibility.  Consider the fact that pie is a homophone of a number, and you have my next segue:

As creative as I like to think I am, I am also a math nerd.  I love to solve problems.  I work with figures, just like the grown-ups The Little Prince bemoaned in his namesake novel.  I love when numbers align.  I graduated in the year 2000.  I got married on 9-10-11.  I like to play the "date" game by taking the numbers in today's date and making them into an equation that balances.  Don't mistake me: I am not a math genius.  I think "math nerd" and "math genius" have a subtle but significant distinction.  For example, today:

11/16/2011

1 + 1 + 1 = (6 / 2 + 0) * 1 / 1

Not a game, you say?  Well, I admit it's not complicated.  But I have fun with it, and so Game, I say, Game!  

I use simple operators.  Sometimes I'll drop in exponents if I need to.  But ne'er log nor e nor pi.  So I confess: I'm no math genius.  But I still love math.

Pie, Pi.  Mrs. Pi.  Need some more?

My wedding favors were apple Pies-In-Jars (recipe courtesy of one of my favorite blogs: Our Best Bites, pies themselves courtesy of my Penna bestie and her lovely mom):

Fresh out of the oven

Pretty on display

All 120 of them!  Ten dozen pi(es)!

My wedding cake was technically a groom's cake (my husband loves chocolate cake) but I had a wedding pie, also courtesy of my Penna bestie's mom:

Mr. Pi cut me a slice o' pie, I cut him a slice o' cake.  And if you care to know, we were kind and did no dessert "smashing".  Also, if you are attentive to detail, you'll see my signature symbol in the crust of my beautiful wedding pie.

That's most of what's in my name.  As midnight approaches, I'll leave you with one of my favorite quotes:

"Someone has made you the happy recipients of a pie from The Pie Hole. As in "shut your." Or, in this case, "open your," because it's really good!" ~Olive Snook

Mrs. Pi

Tink Tink Tinkity Tink

Tink, tink, tink, tink ... this is what I was saying in my head today as I was un-knitting two and a half rounds of Debra's Mittens. Thankfully it only took me two and a half rounds to realize I had forgotten to leave a thumb hole. Speaking of this particular work-in-progress, here is a picture of the first of Debra's Mittens:

I really love the pattern, "Pearl Chain Mittens" by handepande (available for download on Ravelry).  The challenge of the color changes keep it interesting, while the simple repetition of the pattern keeps it from being overwhelming.  Ok, so I took a few liberties; it's been a while since I followed a pattern to a tee.  Admittedly, my edits aren't always as awesome as I expect them to be, but sometimes I land on something good.  Equally as good as the original, at least.  I'm still a young knitter (or this is what I tell myself in consolation, since one of those big landmark birthdays is looming over me) and I'm cheeky and bumptious enough to presume I know better than seasoned designers of the craft.


This pair of mittens doesn't have a gusset, since I couldn't figure out how to build it in without messing up the pattern.  I'm on the fence about gusset-less mittens.  I've only knit mittens with gussets to this point.  I think Debra's Mittens work sans-gusset, but if you ask me, on a plain-jane mitten, I am pro-gusset.


Final note on Debra's Mittens: the yarn, Caron Vickie Howell Sheep(ish) in Black(ish), White(ish) and Lime(ish), has grown on me, now that I've gotten accustomed to working with it.  Sorry for indirectly bashing Sheep(ish) in the previous post, Vickie Howell.  It's soft and fuzzy and warm, perfect for mittens.


Back to the original topic: do any of you out there, in that dear void - or "cloud" although, I like Meg Ryan's You've Got Mail reference better - do any of you talk to yourself while you knit?  Inside your head, I mean - although, I am also guilty of knit-speaking aloud to myself.  My only evidence to date that I'm not alone is that a guy I dated once used to tell me that his sister was also known to mumble: "knit, purl, knit, knit, purl, purl ..." whilst completing her rounds (By the way, that's a reference to another of my double-yous eye pee, "Hedgerow Socks" by Jane Cochran, also available for download on Ravelry.  Picture below).

I'll leave you with a few questions that occurred to me as I typed this post:


1.  Who first used the word "tink" to describe knitting backward?  It's BRILLIANT.  

2.  Is there a proper way to cite a knitting pattern, a (accent grave) la MLA format or APA format, etc.?  Huh.


3.  It has often occurred to me to ask the question, why is W called a "double-u"?  Did the letter W really not warrant its own unique name?  Furthermore, should we follow the same naming convention when multiples of that letter are involved?  WW becomes Quad-U and so on?  That's a rather slippery slope, I guess, since with any URL we'd be using the prefix "Sext-U dot such-and-such dot com" ...

Mrs. Pi

How It All Began

Christians have conversion stories about how they converted to Christianity.  I've also got one of those, but this blog is a different genre, so I'll stick with How I Converted To Knitting.  It's true, I was converted.  By Vickie Howell.  I guess it started before her, but she was the main catalyst.

Knitting for me has been a learning experience, a development ... or to be more dramatic, a metamorphosis.  Hell, it could pass as a pure metaphor for my life.  I've made lots of mistakes, I've started back at square one, I've unraveled, I've gotten tangled up in knots, I've struck inspiration, I've hit dry spells, I've left things undone, I've improvised, I've broken rules, I've enjoyed successes and failures ... ok so I've never been much of a poet, but you get the idea.  One of these days, I'm going to tell my boss I need to frog back to the beginning and start over on one of my projects at work (in insurance, mind you), and she's going to look at me like I have baobabs growing out of my face.

I can't pinpoint what it was that first made me want to try knitting.  I do know I was in high school.  Maybe it was when my mom got involved in the prayer shawl ministry at church, and watching her, it just looked like something I could enjoy.  Maybe it was when I found out about my Grandma's book, Twice-Knit Knitting, the one that pretty much got my parents together (but that's a story for another day).  Things in my life just sort of seem to pop up as recurring themes before they feature as a main topic.

Or maybe I just found myself in the yarn aisle at the craft store.  Yes, in fact, I think that was it.  Glamorous?  No.  But there it is.  I was at one of those big box craft stores - you know, the ones that carry aisles and aisles of "yarn" (well now, someone's turned into a bit of a yarn snob).  I was with my mom, and I asked her if she'd teach me how to knit.  We bought a skein of plain, acrylic/wool worsted and a pair of needles, and the rest is history (too cliche ... argh, where do they hide the accent aigu?) thus a knitting phenom discovered her calling!

Um, hardly.  The needles felt awkward in my hands (despite having mastered other tactical challenges like folding origami cranes and using chopsticks - shout out to four years of Japanese exchange students: Sakura, Yoko, Maho, and Takako).  I couldn't grasp the concept of making a slipknot.  I started off with the only cast-on method my mom remembered - the simple one, where you essentially have a string of cursive "e's" on your needle.  I had at it for a while, reading along with I Taught Myself Knitting.  And I'm fairly certain I abandoned that first effort soon afterward.

But I picked it back up, I did.  Ok, so a few years went by, and I was in college, and I needed something to do between scenes of a college play. The second attempt only went slightly better than the first.  And I confess: I dabbled in crochet.  It became sort of an obsession.  I spent a few months crocheting to my heart's content.  And then I knit a scarf, I think.  And that was it for a while.  Techniques and terms and fibers and needles lay dormant, marinating.


Until 2006.  I was living in my first house, just purchased, and I stumbled upon the show "Knitty Gritty" with Vickie Howell, on HGTV.  I was hooked.  I DVR'd each and every episode.  I learned names like Lily Chin and techniques like "long-tail cast-on".  Something about seeing knitting up-close, performed live by real knitters ... I'd be lying if the pleasure I got didn't make me feel like something of a voyeur.  There was a flurry of fiber activity, and a true knitter was born.  After a seven-year progression from larva to pupa to chrysalis ... I was a beautiful butterfly.  Why yes, I do sicken myself sometimes with inclination to cliche (insert accent aigu).


From then, I knitted not just scarves, but hats, and mittens, arm warmers and socks.  I started a vest and sweater (I'm better at starting than finishing).  So I'm not an expert knitter, but I'm not a novice, either.  I'm proficient.  All thanks to Vickie Howell.


Which is why, right now, even though I have cast on and ripped out the same mitten four times, I refuse to bad-mouth the Vickie Howell for Caron's Sheep(ish) yarn, difficult though it may be, and though it splits and breaks and somehow refuses to follow its own gauge, I will not stoop to calling it cheap, or resort to name-calling, even though it's completely good for absolutely nothing.  Because I owe her.  She converted me to knitting.

Mrs. Pi