Sometimes I struggle with the idea of blogging. What is appropriate to post and what isn't? If people come expecting to read about knitting and yarn, is it okay if some days I'd rather talk about the fact that I'm struggling to decide if I ought to flip my classroom in the fall, or that the potatoes in my garden clearly think that we live in northern Ireland this year? Because I don't always have yarn-related things to talk about. Having recently begun the adventure of cohabitation, I find (like all my foremothers) that my knitting time is being severely impinged upon by the responsibilities of a good housewife (and my thoughts on that are something best saved for another day).
I suppose the reality is that it's my blog, and I can write about whatever I want. If I want to rant about Steven Moffatt and his desecration of the Doctor Whoniverse (don't get me started on River Song, or the repetition of the "impossible girl" trope, or even how he kind of ruined the Weeping Angels through overuse), I can do that.
What I'm doing: I just returned from the Medieval Congress at Kalamazoo, which was quite an experience. I split my time between panels about things I teach and panels about things I enjoy, meaning that I learned equally about the role of Jews in medieval society and how to analyze textiles from extant images. My favorite thing about the whole conference was that during the textile panels (put on by DISTAFF), over half the audience was knitting, and one of the only questions I received throughout the entire conference was about the sock pattern I was working on (a highly modified form of Eunny Jang's Bayerische pattern, about which more will be said later). Knitters. We are everywhere.
What I'm reading: All the things. My attention-span is shot lately (conference nerves, mostly), so I'm jumping between Fighting the Great War: A Global History, Victorian and Edwardian Fashion: A Photographic Survey, and Fitzgerald's The Lost Decade. The only thing that's actually holding my interest is something I'm reading for work: Holy Bones, Holy Dust: How Relics Shaped the History of Medieval Europe (which is a popular history that is rather suspect in places - his interpretation of Carolingian religious practices concerns me - but which references quite a few primary sources I had not come across. This will, of course, soon necessitate the long and painful process of translating things from the Minge Patrologia so that I can inflict them on my students).
What I'm watching: Doctor Who, obviously. We just mainlined the last of Series 7, and will soon be switching over to Game of Thrones.
What I'm knitting: I'm working on secret knitting, which will be given as a gift next month (at which point I'll show a picture of it). What I can say about it is that it was intended to be a stash-busting project, using a giant skein of Caron One Pound that had been lingering in my stash for ages. For so long, in fact, that Caron has since switched the color of the yarn that goes by that name. Which means that what was supposed to be a stash-buster has resulted in the purchase of three more skeins in the hopes of finding one that matched. We have finally decided that said project will be ombré, and it will be a design feature.
You guys. In school, they warn you about pot by telling you it's a gateway drug. How come nobody ever warns you about knitting? It's totally a gateway craft. Without knitting, I would never have learned to crochet, to needle-felt (not that I enjoy that, particularly, but it's a life skill I now have), or to dye. And now, the gateway has opened that much further.
I've started learning how to spin.
Now, perhaps not all of the blame should be put on knitting, as a craft. Some of the blame belongs squarely on the shoulders of my YEE (yarn enabler extrodinaire, to use the Jimmy Beans' phrase) mother. I mentioned to her a few weeks ago that I was considering learning how to spin. As she is an avid spinner herself, I probably should have known better, because when I stopped by for dinner last Wednesday, there was a braid of GnomeAcres Merino/Silk blend in Gnomey Nights waiting for me. We promptly sat down at my mom's wheel and she showed me how to spin.
Here are the results of my first thirty minutes of spinning:
I have already learned that I prefer to spin off rolags, rather than the braid, and I had a fit over the color transition from blue to yellow (I think the yellow dye damaged the fiber slightly, as it isn't drawing as evenly or easily, no matter how much I open it up before-hand. You can see the lumps it created. I'm sure eventually I'll be adept enough to prevent that, but this was only the result of my second time at a spinning wheel). I'm a short-draw spinner, and I'm working hard on learning how not to overtwist. But dang, it's fun!
And just to cement the habit, on Saturday, at the Fiber Fest, I picked up these:
Now I just need to buy my own spinning wheel.
I've started learning how to spin.
Now, perhaps not all of the blame should be put on knitting, as a craft. Some of the blame belongs squarely on the shoulders of my YEE (yarn enabler extrodinaire, to use the Jimmy Beans' phrase) mother. I mentioned to her a few weeks ago that I was considering learning how to spin. As she is an avid spinner herself, I probably should have known better, because when I stopped by for dinner last Wednesday, there was a braid of GnomeAcres Merino/Silk blend in Gnomey Nights waiting for me. We promptly sat down at my mom's wheel and she showed me how to spin.
Here are the results of my first thirty minutes of spinning:
I realize these are terrible pictures, but it was late and this was my only chance to take the shots. It runs the gamut between lace and sport weight, but is more consistently at the lower end of that spectrum.
I have already learned that I prefer to spin off rolags, rather than the braid, and I had a fit over the color transition from blue to yellow (I think the yellow dye damaged the fiber slightly, as it isn't drawing as evenly or easily, no matter how much I open it up before-hand. You can see the lumps it created. I'm sure eventually I'll be adept enough to prevent that, but this was only the result of my second time at a spinning wheel). I'm a short-draw spinner, and I'm working hard on learning how not to overtwist. But dang, it's fun!
And just to cement the habit, on Saturday, at the Fiber Fest, I picked up these:
Now I just need to buy my own spinning wheel.
If we liken being Cold Sheep to being on a yarn diet, then this weekend I binged. I binged like someone who'd given up chocolate for Lent does on Easter.
This weekend was the NC Fiber Festival. I had always planned to end my final three months of Cold Sheep this weekend, but I was thinking about it in terms of the last few years, when there were a handful of great sellers, but mostly a bunch of people trying to sell their 90 yd skein of worsted weight for $28 (I have no problem with people who charge reasonable prices for their work, I just object to 90 yd skeins - what are you supposed to do with that?)
But this year was not like the last few years. This year, they moved it down to Sanford, which is a rather odd location in the middle of nowhere, about an hour away from anything else you might want to visit. And while I'm not a huge fan of the new layout, it certainly seemed to me that there was an improvement in the quality of the vendors, much to the detriment of my wallet.
The results of the binge:
For those curious about the roving, I may or may not have learned to spin on Wednesday and purchased all of this on Saturday. More on that later.
On the one hand, that replaced all the stash-down I've done since Christmas and then some. On the other hand, I have ideas for everything I purchased, so while I binged, I binged more thoughtfully than I would have pre-Cold Sheep. And honestly, I can't feel guilty in the face of all those pretties.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go snuggle my skeins of alpaca.
This weekend was the NC Fiber Festival. I had always planned to end my final three months of Cold Sheep this weekend, but I was thinking about it in terms of the last few years, when there were a handful of great sellers, but mostly a bunch of people trying to sell their 90 yd skein of worsted weight for $28 (I have no problem with people who charge reasonable prices for their work, I just object to 90 yd skeins - what are you supposed to do with that?)
But this year was not like the last few years. This year, they moved it down to Sanford, which is a rather odd location in the middle of nowhere, about an hour away from anything else you might want to visit. And while I'm not a huge fan of the new layout, it certainly seemed to me that there was an improvement in the quality of the vendors, much to the detriment of my wallet.
The results of the binge:
From the top: Delly Delights Farm merino roving (in the bag), Delly Delights Farm O So Soft Alpaca sport in Gray, Unplanned Peacock Superwash Merino Fingering in Coral, Knitting Notions Merino Superwash Sock in Ironstone, Taylored Fibers Merino/Silk braid, Cozy Rabbit Farm Merino/Tencel roving, and GnomeAcres House Gnome Sock in Polyjuice Potion (received as a gift).
For those curious about the roving, I may or may not have learned to spin on Wednesday and purchased all of this on Saturday. More on that later.
On the one hand, that replaced all the stash-down I've done since Christmas and then some. On the other hand, I have ideas for everything I purchased, so while I binged, I binged more thoughtfully than I would have pre-Cold Sheep. And honestly, I can't feel guilty in the face of all those pretties.
Now if you'll excuse me, I have to go snuggle my skeins of alpaca.
What I'm doing: The reason for posts (and knitting in general) having been so scare is that I'm moving. One of my goals for the year has happened - the Boy and I now have a place together. But that means that a lot less knitting has been completed while I've been doing a lot of this:
One more week and we'll be fully established in the new townhouse, with its natural light and spacious patio. But until then, life is taking a back seat to boxes.
What I'm reading: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot. This was the book chosen for this year's freshman read, so I'm trying to knock it out before the summer starts and the freshmen get here. It tells the story of Henrietta Lacks, a black woman who died of cancer in 1951, and the "immortal life" of the cells taken from her without her permission or knowledge, which have been used by scientists the world over to develop things like the polio vaccine, chemotherapy drugs, and otherwise make the drug industry quite wealthy. I'm half-way through, and I must admit that the writing style is incredibly accessible and compelling, despite dealing with cell types and scientific research. The tension between the treatment received by the Lacks family at the hands of the medical establishment, and what Rebecca herself is doing in writing the book, is fascinating to me. I think the book works on so many levels, and even as a historian, recognizing the importance of accepting the past for what it is, I still can't imagine how scientists ever thought it was okay to treat people they way they did in the '50s and '60s.
What I'm watching: Where Soldiers Come From - a documentary following a group of friends from their carefree existence in northern Michigan to sweeping roads for IEDs in Afghanistan and back home again. I feel like it's only as groundbreaking as everyone claims because modern Americans have distanced themselves so far from the realities of war that the idea that young men go off to war and come back changed (and not always for the better) is a shock. In the past, I think societies recognized that as a simple reality, and didn't need to make documentaries so people could "understand the horrors these young men have gone through." You can't understand it. You weren't there. No amount of documenting and voyeuristic journalism is going to make you understand what it's like to be those men. And honestly, I imagine if you asked them (or any of the millions of soldiers who came before them), they wouldn't want you to. That said, it was an interesting documentary, and is worth seeing if only to get a better feel for how we treat our veterans.
What I'm knitting: Finished up my squares for Knitters for Newtown. Managed to get them sent off on Friday, and will now switch gears back to queue-reduction knitting.
One more week and we'll be fully established in the new townhouse, with its natural light and spacious patio. But until then, life is taking a back seat to boxes.
What I'm reading: The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks by Rebecca Skloot. This was the book chosen for this year's freshman read, so I'm trying to knock it out before the summer starts and the freshmen get here. It tells the story of Henrietta Lacks, a black woman who died of cancer in 1951, and the "immortal life" of the cells taken from her without her permission or knowledge, which have been used by scientists the world over to develop things like the polio vaccine, chemotherapy drugs, and otherwise make the drug industry quite wealthy. I'm half-way through, and I must admit that the writing style is incredibly accessible and compelling, despite dealing with cell types and scientific research. The tension between the treatment received by the Lacks family at the hands of the medical establishment, and what Rebecca herself is doing in writing the book, is fascinating to me. I think the book works on so many levels, and even as a historian, recognizing the importance of accepting the past for what it is, I still can't imagine how scientists ever thought it was okay to treat people they way they did in the '50s and '60s.
What I'm watching: Where Soldiers Come From - a documentary following a group of friends from their carefree existence in northern Michigan to sweeping roads for IEDs in Afghanistan and back home again. I feel like it's only as groundbreaking as everyone claims because modern Americans have distanced themselves so far from the realities of war that the idea that young men go off to war and come back changed (and not always for the better) is a shock. In the past, I think societies recognized that as a simple reality, and didn't need to make documentaries so people could "understand the horrors these young men have gone through." You can't understand it. You weren't there. No amount of documenting and voyeuristic journalism is going to make you understand what it's like to be those men. And honestly, I imagine if you asked them (or any of the millions of soldiers who came before them), they wouldn't want you to. That said, it was an interesting documentary, and is worth seeing if only to get a better feel for how we treat our veterans.
What I'm knitting: Finished up my squares for Knitters for Newtown. Managed to get them sent off on Friday, and will now switch gears back to queue-reduction knitting.
You know the saying "caveat emptor?" I feel like that is doubly true since the invention of the internet and the proliferation of monitors with different color profiles. When you fall in love with the image of yarn on your screen, you can't always be sure that the color you're seeing is the color of the yarn itself. We've all purchased yarn we thought was a certain color, only to find out it was in fact five shades darker or greener or what have you.
This is doubly true of hand-painted yarns, where each skein is unique anyway, without the added burden of color profiles. However, I recently received a skein where it was not simply a matter of it being a just different shade or hue than had been illustrated on the screen. This was a matter of it being almost a completely different yarn. I ordered what I was expecting to be a vibrantly saturated yarn that resembled green rolling hills, and received yarn that looked like a sad Easter Egg.
I am not going to name any names, because we all have off-days. These things happen. But I will admit to being extremely disappointed when I opened up my package and saw pastels staring up at me. This was not the yarn I wanted when I excitedly purchased it lo these many weeks ago.
So being a good diy-er, I decided to fix it myself. I soaked it in vinegar and went at it with some blue dye, and this is what I ended up with:
Which was maybe slightly more vibrant than I had intended. This is why I don't judge. Dying yarn is hard, yo. But I'm much happier with my shocking blue yarn than I was with my pastel Easter egg yarn, and already have the perfect project in mind for it: Regina, by Carina Spencer.
However, those of you who intend to do this yourself, take note - BFL felts. Which probably shouldn't have been as surprising as it was, but I am impatient, and like to touch my yarn while it's soaking. That was a mistake. As you can see, the yarn is still servicable, but it certainly roughed up and each strand got cozy with its neighbors while it was drying. I had to do some gentle tugging to separate things as I was rolling up the ball.
So note to self: when rinsing out hand-dyed yarn after defacing it, don't swish.
Thursday, February 21, 2013
Vintage Pattern Acquisition
Interestingly, being cold sheep does not actually seem to have saved me a lot of money. The money that was previously being spent on yarn simply gets diverted into pattern acquisition. And not just your average pattern acquisition, but fairly expensive, vintage British patterns. My relationship with pdf reproductions of vintage patterns is fraught
with tension - I like that they provide access to rare patterns, but I
hate having to search around them when looking for originals, and am
also leery of the copyright issues involved.
It should probably surprise no one that as a historian, I love vintage patterns. There is something very thrilling about holding in your hands a pattern that a knitter from a previous generation liked enough to purchase and preserve. I find that the thrill is particularly strong for WWII-era British patterns. Knowing the hardships that women of that period lived through, and the shortages and privations they had to deal with, I imagine that knitting booklets were one of the only bright spots in a frequently difficult, stressful existence. When I hold a 1942 issue of Stitchcraft, I imagine the woman who originally received it with her post being as excited as I am to receive an issue of Interweave, and rushing inside to put on the kettle so she could sit down for twenty minutes to leaf through the patterns with her cuppa.
Bestway, Sun-Glo, and Stitchcraft are my favorites - all of which are on the pricier end of the spectrum, of course. I love Stitchcraft in particular because of the adverts, for wonderful things like Potato Pete's Recipe Book or Bunco's Toilet Paper ("We ask your indulgence if your retailer is temporarily out of stock").
Material culture is fantastic, and as a medievalist, it is not something I'm used to possessing, so I have been - and still am - willing to spend ridiculous amounts in order to own original vintage patterns. I just can't allow myself to spend time on Ebay and Webs within the same month.
Bestway, Sun-Glo, and Stitchcraft are my favorites - all of which are on the pricier end of the spectrum, of course. I love Stitchcraft in particular because of the adverts, for wonderful things like Potato Pete's Recipe Book or Bunco's Toilet Paper ("We ask your indulgence if your retailer is temporarily out of stock").
Material culture is fantastic, and as a medievalist, it is not something I'm used to possessing, so I have been - and still am - willing to spend ridiculous amounts in order to own original vintage patterns. I just can't allow myself to spend time on Ebay and Webs within the same month.
Not all that long ago, I came across the Downton Abbey Luxury Yarn Club, hosted by Woolgirl and Curious Creek Fibers. Now, while I recognize that it is a luxury yarn club, with awesome extras like Wee Ones Dowager Countess stitch markers, $550 is FAR outside my price-range for any club (no matter how much I might have wanted it). So I lusted, but did not purchase.
Since the pattern I was most interested in was the Mr. Bates socks, I decided that the next best thing would be to go ahead and design my own. So I did.
I present you with Bates:
Constructed toe-up, with a combination of cables and twisted stitches on a reverse stockinette stitch background. I had originally envisioned using a staggered cross cable (one with uneven numbers of repeats between each cable-row - to call to mind Mr. Bates' limp), but found that oddly, the roundness of the cables did not suit the design at all.
The heel is short-row, with a twisted stitch heel flap. These are men's size 9, but were knit fairly narrow. The pattern can easily be sized up, however, to account for more robust foot and leg circumference.
The yarn is Malabrigo Yarn Sock, in the Piedras colorway, which was meant to call to mind the khaki uniforms of the British army in the Boer war, when Mr. Bates was the Earl's batman. This was my first order from Loopy Ewe, and I plan on buying more yarn from them in the future, if only for more adorable sheep drawings. However, I think the pattern would hold up well in any gently variegated yarn.
The pattern is still being edited, and will be out for test-knitting soon.
Wednesday, February 6, 2013
Stash flash #1
Hi. My name is Caitlin, and I have a knitting problem.
Well, not so much a knitting problem, because if the knitting were the problem, the stash wouldn't be. Let's say I have a yarn problem.
It looks a little bit like this:
Pardon me for *ahem* flashing my stash. But even this is actually quite an improvement over the state of the thing at the beginning of January, before I buckled down and got organized. Now each yarn is in a plastic bag, and if I know what I plan to make with it (and I do for about 70% of the yarn in that pile), the pattern has been printed and put into the bag. And a half hour after this picture was taken, all the loose yarn you see was similarly corralled into ziplock baggies and placed into the storage bins you see in the background.
But no matter how beautifully organized it now is, it's still an overwhelmingly large stash. Especially because more than of it than I would like is squeaky acrylic or dry and halo-y cotton, which won't cut it for the vintage patterns I now love to make.
I tried going Cold Sheep (ravelry link) last year, which went quite well until it...didn't anymore (yarn is a perfectly acceptable way of rewarding oneself for being a successful grown up, what are you talking about?). My goal was to make it from the end of May to the end of December. I made it from May through the end of September. In penance for falling off the wagon - and boy, did I ever? - I have signed back on for another three-ish months (til the NC Fiber Fest, in April) of being totally cold sheep, and, as I've already noted, I've pledged to spend 2013 knitting from my stash.
And in attempt to stay accountable to myself, I am also making myself accountable to you. I will periodically flash my stash, to show that it is decreasing rather than increasing, and will have to publicly shame myself by announcing it here if I do add any new yarn. Hopefully, you will help to keep me honest and on the wagon for the duration of 2013.
Well, not so much a knitting problem, because if the knitting were the problem, the stash wouldn't be. Let's say I have a yarn problem.
It looks a little bit like this:
But no matter how beautifully organized it now is, it's still an overwhelmingly large stash. Especially because more than of it than I would like is squeaky acrylic or dry and halo-y cotton, which won't cut it for the vintage patterns I now love to make.
I tried going Cold Sheep (ravelry link) last year, which went quite well until it...didn't anymore (yarn is a perfectly acceptable way of rewarding oneself for being a successful grown up, what are you talking about?). My goal was to make it from the end of May to the end of December. I made it from May through the end of September. In penance for falling off the wagon - and boy, did I ever? - I have signed back on for another three-ish months (til the NC Fiber Fest, in April) of being totally cold sheep, and, as I've already noted, I've pledged to spend 2013 knitting from my stash.
And in attempt to stay accountable to myself, I am also making myself accountable to you. I will periodically flash my stash, to show that it is decreasing rather than increasing, and will have to publicly shame myself by announcing it here if I do add any new yarn. Hopefully, you will help to keep me honest and on the wagon for the duration of 2013.
Look what was in my mailbox today!
Not too terribly long ago, I donated to Three Irish Girls to help get them out of the studio of horribleness. In exchange for monetary support of a certain amount, Sharon and co promised a skein of a special colorway.
And lo and behold, this lovely appeared in my mailbox today:
The colorway is Moondance (as in "a marvelous night for...") and is on the Adorn sock base. It is beautiful and I can't wait to see how it works up. Sometimes 3IG's yarns can be a bit...exuberant, but this looks promisingly sockworthy.
Not too terribly long ago, I donated to Three Irish Girls to help get them out of the studio of horribleness. In exchange for monetary support of a certain amount, Sharon and co promised a skein of a special colorway.
I am a sucker for hand-dyed yarns. The colors, the vibrancy, the blends! The frequently unexpected way it works up (although that is not always pleasant, as Jean noted today)! The joy of watching each new color appear as you stitch. It is, not to be too much of an aesthete, a transcendent form of knitting.
I have plenty of favorite dyers: Three Irish Girls (I think I've put one of Sharon's children through college), Nerd Girl Yarns, Sweet Georgia, the Verdant Gryphon (her yarns are so squishy!), Dragonfly Fibers. They all do fascinating things with color blends and produce yarn that is fantastic to work with.
But today...today I found some of the most beautiful semi-sold yarns I have ever beheld.
Hazel Knits.
I have plenty of favorite dyers: Three Irish Girls (I think I've put one of Sharon's children through college), Nerd Girl Yarns, Sweet Georgia, the Verdant Gryphon (her yarns are so squishy!), Dragonfly Fibers. They all do fascinating things with color blends and produce yarn that is fantastic to work with.
But today...today I found some of the most beautiful semi-sold yarns I have ever beheld.
Hazel Knits.
Image (c) hazel knits. Artisan Sock in Nickel.
Image (c) hazel knits. Filigree lace in Jay Blue.
I am sadly Cold Sheep (more on that soon), and cannot buy any of these lovelies until April. But you should. You absolutely should, and then come back and tell me about how pretty it is so that I can live vicariously through your yarn acquisition. Because this is seriously the most gorgeous yarn I've seen in ages.
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