Ghosts of Knitting Past

This is a rant.

In the last week, I've been brought face to face with other people's old knitting. And it's not pretty.

Last week, a woman came in to the shop and pulled out patterns from the 1960's. Ok. Vintage knitting is Cool. Vintage knitting is In. But hanging on to old patterns because they're the only ones you knit is not cool, and actually is kind of stupid.

I was being asked to figure out what yarn she needed and how much. The pattern called for x number of balls of a now-defunct yarn that once upon a time came in 2 oz balls. That tells us nothing. However, as I explained to her, the needle size and gauge will help us, along with an in-house cheat-sheet that estimates (key word here: estimates) how much yardage you'll need for a sweater. Size 10 needles/3 stitches to the inch: hmmmm, sounds like bulky yarn to me. (But, the customer says, the photograph of the sweater doesn't look bulky.) Since I can't climb inside your head, dear customer, and see what you're seeing, all I can do is repeat the needle size and gauge and point out that the same (exact same!) needle size and gauge are here, on this yarn label.

She has to think about it.

The next pattern is from a kit that was packaged in the '60's; there is absolutely no mention of what kind of yarn was used. The directions give three different sizes that are based on changing the needle size----it could be fingering (baby) weight yarn, or dk (sport) yarn.

Long story short, she ends up buying worsted weight for the bulky weight pattern (because the photo didn't look bulky), and some fingering for the baby sweater.

I guarantee that she'll be back, and she'll be complaining because things didn't turn out "right".

This is what I'm talking about when I say that knitters need to take responsibility for their knitting: just do it. Try it. Do a gague swatch. Think about what you're doing. But please, don't shift all of the risk and responsibility on to someone you don't know who can't see inside your brain. Come on.

The other incident was being stopped by a neighbor who knows that I knit. She has a project that she's been working on for about four years,and she wants me to look at the directions and tell her what she's doing wrong.

Again, can I really climb inside your brain and figure this out? I don't think so.

So, the bottom line here is: if you want to knit from vintage patterns, do the math yourself---don't spring it on someone who doesn't really know what it is you want and is also trying to help four other people who are actually on the ball. Also, there is absolutely nothing wrong with buying new patterns. It's ok. They're not that expensive (and there are a lot free ones crammed in the tubes, if you want to take the time to
look).

And if you've been working on a project for four or more years, maybe it's time to frog it or just put it in the trash and start fresh. If you can't remember what you were doing when you put this weird piece of crap down, why do you think that my brain is somehow more magic than yours and I'll know what you were thinking and doing four years ago?

Ok. Rant done.

I Won

It took me a couple of attempts and a lot of knitting math, but I have achieved what I wanted:



Say hello to the Alcott Shawl.

It's worked from the edging up to the neck which means that all the heavy knitting and thinking happens in the cast on and first 20-some rows. Then it's knitting and decreasing until the neck.

The pattern is available for sale and download in my Ravelry store.

A Challenge

Now that I can do a simple top-down triangle shawl without thinking very hard about it, I've decided, for some reason, that I need to do a half-circle shawl with a 20-row-repeat lace edging from the bottom up (because I really don't like picking up edging and this particular one works from the bottom up).

I'm working on my third attempt after casting on about six times (6x300+ stitches = mental meltdown). I did have a stunning aha! moment yesterday when I realized that my life would be much easier if I put stitch markers at every pattern repeat so that I only have to rip out twenty stitches at a time. But that didn't stop me from screwing up row 7 so badly that I unraveled (the shawl and myself) and cast on again.

And I still haven't figured out why I have to do this: it's as if there's a big knitting exam coming up and I have get an A. I'm alternating between being pleased that I've tackled this and thinking what the hell is wrong with me?

How You Like Me Now?

Mr. Monkey

Mr. Monkey got attacked by a dog and needs the side of his head replaced. He also needs a new ear and a little more stuffing.

But he's still smiling.

Oh Dear

It looks as if my ambitious Barbara Walker project is on hiatus (I'd say hibernating but we're coming out of winter----maybe it's on Spring break in Fort Lauderdale?). In any case, I've not been keeping up with that or with updating here. Not that I've been inundated with comments and emails asking me where I am and how much my swatches have been missed.

Last month I started working two days a week at Loop. It's a wonderful, gorgeous store filled with wonderful, gorgeous yarn, laid out beautifully (a friend of mine refers to Loop as The Museum of Yarn). My boss and co-worker are great also, making the adjustment to my first outside-the-house job in 25+ years pretty smooth.

From my two days of work, I then go directly to my day of teaching the blind at ASB; I'm still figuring out how to both rest, catch up, and continue with my own work over the next days until it's time to start again.

Yes, I know I used to do this work thing, but after so many years of having the kids and their school years and then my own craft show schedule determine the rhythm of my work, it is taking a bit of adjusting.

I'm working on a store sample for Loop right now, using Zara, and the interesting thing is how much the yardage varies from ball to ball. Since I'm working in stripes, you'd think that one ball would work up the same number of rows as the next, but that's not the case. I'm a little nervous, because I'm not sure how this is going to turn out. Maybe they (the manufacturers) need to check their measuring machine. That aside, Zara is very nice to work with: smooth, quick, nice hand, great finished fabric. There is a slight tendency to split now and then--not badly, just something to keep an eye on.

And as soon as I have this finished, I'll be able to work out the sample and write the pattern for the latest design I've done for Valley Yarns. I'm really looking foward to working this one up. And maybe the Barbara Walker project will get back on track.

BW: Banded Insertion

Very interesting stitch pattern to play with: bands of garter stitch are worked using needles appropriate for the yarn, and then two rows of Stockinette stitch are worked using needles 4 to 5 sizes larger. How much size differences there is between the needles makes the lacey part more open or more subtle:



I consistently used a size 5 needle for the garter bands, but experimented with different needles for the inserts. The bottom three inserts are worked with a size 11 needle; the next three are worked with a 10.5; and the last three are worked with a 10. The largest size begins to look almost like a drop-stitch as the loops are so long. This has me thinking that I'll try it with a 5 and a 13 and see what happens. Many, many possibilities.