two knits of ivory

We interrupt your normal broadcast to opine on some crazeh. Sundara Sock, Wood Studies #? Now, I don't know about you, but I am prone to outlandish thoughts. (I used to berate myself on this tendency, feeling it a necessary postmortem. I embrace it now, letting my fancy go where it may and then marveling at its produce). For reasons I won't bore you with, my mind always assumes the worst, fulling the details where needed. Ever since I invested in my second Elizabeth Zimmerman book and saw the same biological material reiterated alongside just one pearl of her wisdom I was after, only to find I needed another one of her books to get another one of her pearls of wisdom, and pay for another iteration of her "I am a knitting heretic" biography, well, I've grown a little bit ornery towards the old dame. Oh, yes, I thought the biographical material was fabulous. The first time. But the second and third and fourth time, I felt violated by an unctuous ...

Hypocriping - the act of discussing a state of being as a constant, because it is, only to be overtaken, as a constant, by the opposite state once the state of being is consciously considered. Now that I got that crazeh out of my brain, lemme get to the point. Yummeh yummeh yummeh. What a difference a week makes. For a few weeks now I've been cleaning up my knitting. I've reorganized my yarn and gone through my works in progress. This mojo started to coalesce right about the time I wrote my last entry about how I wasn't knitting that much. Shortly after that was written I kicked the pernicious Facebook gaming habit that developed over the heat wave last summer. (Yes. It was that addictive!) My knitting ennui all but disappeared when I took up stranded sock knitting last week. Now all I can think about is stranded knitting and buying more yarn for stranded knitting projects. As the tendency to hypocripe is strong in me, I've got the irrepressibl...

The congealed mess that is my mind and craft desires sieving. Can sieving be a verb? It can . It says so much more than sift. Sift is for feathery, weightless, white powder flour. Sieved feels more appropriate for the act of clarifying the chunky monkey that is my congealessence. Don't forget to breathe, the latter is not a word. I'm not knitting during the week anymore. Or barely. I don't have the time and I mourn it's absence. I finished the little project I started a week ago Sunday: It's a flat swatch of the in-the-round Rivendell pattern by Susan Pandorf (rav link has better pics). The top half has some mods. I tried out a few borders, starting with five stitches of moss, and ending with two six-stitch cable variations. It is a gloriously architectural pattern. Aptly named. I bought the yarn specifically for this project, which I envisioned being a large, wide, rectangular scarf rather than the cowl of the original pattern. This was t...

Yesterday afternoon I bought yarn, came home, organized it and some other yarn I purchased over the last month, bagged it, caked some of it, and finally took a moment's rest on the couch. Five hours later I woke up. Surprisingly, I wasn't too cranky. Really. Not too cranky. It was a small miracle. Hubby went upstairs early to bed, taking the animals with him, giving me space and time to commune with my knitting in a way that has not happened in a good long time. My knitting life is backed up. It needs to be aired. Without momentum it's devolving into a congealed mess, a failed alchemical trial that is clogging my subconscious, caking up the gears of my existence. I wish this wasn't just 10 to 25 per cent hyperbole. One mystery has finally been solved. Eight billion left. Lemme share this one, as it may effect some knitters. I purchased seven skeins of some beautiful limited edition sock yarn (Storm Studies #35) from Sundara a couple of weeks ago and...

I'm behind. Behind. Waaayyyy behind. S'okay. Right? I'm an adult and there is no one but me to berate myself. Lol. My photos suck. My knitting slow. Who am I letting down? Me. Why? Why? Elena got her socks in time. Score one for the home team. Why is this a competition?

It's December 23rd and I know where my happiness is. I've got 178 days to the longest day of the year and the beginning of the heat. Yeehaw! The sky was pretty gray this morning as I walked the dogs and cat. Yet it was awesome not wearing socks and needing only a light jacket. I look forward to this time of year when the days start to get longer and the ground freezes so that the animals don't track in muck. Oh, here's to the simple pleasures in life: a little less muck. Malabrigo Worsted in the Applewood Colorway It won't be long until I'm despairing the lack of vibrancy and color in the outside world. Until then I will extol the freedoms that winter brings: Remarkably less feelings of guilt while sitting indoors watching movies/knitting/playing video games. The 45 minutes it now takes to blow my hair out will be wasted 5%, rather than 95% of the time. Woolly socks and sweaters every day if I want! Yeah! And Christmas. It's almost Chri...

(Me and the swift and winder aren't on the best of terms.) Several variables of the Evenstar project have fallen effortlessly (cough, cough) into place. One of these is the yarn I have chosen to use, Madelinetosh's Pashmina . Pashmina is a fingering weight yarn in an intoxicating concoction of 75% superwash wool, 15% silk, and 10% cashmere. I am using the Filigree colorway. How I became the owner of six skeins of this yarn is a tale as old as Christmas. I purchased a crapload of Pashmina from Kaleidescope Yarns - the most excessive being three skeins of the Filigree - on September 5, 2010. On September 11 I began an Ishbel with a skein of the Filigree and became so intoxicated with the yarn and the colorway I was moved to buy the three remaining skeins they had in this colorway. Now was three all they had left? I think so, but my memory is shit. I just remember thinking that I had to have enough of this yarn and 1080 yards wasn't enough. Not enough. 2160...

So I'm finally doing some "real" knitting (pronounced like the real part of realpolitik ). And I think I'm going to do some "real" knit blogging about it. I'm challenging myself after a long, long period of comfort knitting. I have begun my Evenstar and it has returned my Christmas joy. In the past week I have a) chosen the pattern I hope to enter into the 2011 Topsfield Fair b) knit two (read it and weep lazy knittahs! not one but two!) swatches of the star pattern c) found the perfect yarn in my stash!!! (Ergo, I'm frugal AND I can start on the project while my excitement burns brightest!) d) analyzed my yarn for the optimal order in which to knit the skeins e) begun project; and finally f) continue to bask in the glow of my accomplishments to date! So first up in this "real" blogging event: the swatches. Swatch 1: The swatches are knit in spare Lana Grossa Meilenweit 50 Seta/Cashmere , leftovers from my first p...

Madelinetosh Vintage in the Fragrant Colorway You know I've been dying to talk smack about Elizabeth Zimmerman. I have such a well of resentment towards the Zimmerman-industrial-knitting-sycophant-complex, it overfloweth. I need to drain it. But. But. But. But. It's not ready. Not yet. But I'm hoping to be. Some day. Either that or I'll get over my desire. And I'm kinda positive that either prospect will work for me. What I'd rather talk about is the opposite end of the spectrum, a knit designer worth underwriting. I don't read her blog or follow her on ravelry or elsewhere, but I've been drawn to her patterns time and again and this week I finally got off my duff and purchased three. The designer is Susan Pandorf . That patterns I purchased are Evenstar , Rivendell , and Snowdrift . Temperamentally, I am more like the matter-of-fact Zimmerman than the unicorn and rainbows Pandorf, but when it comes to getting you're m...

Ishbel of the Sea Madtosh Pashmina in Filigree Somewhere along the line I learned how to feel superior to things. A long time before that I learned being superior was superior. Somewhere in between I learned that feeling superior is bad for my soul. It's only been the past few years that I even questioned whether or not it is bad for everyone's soul. I assumed it was. ASSuME. And knowing this I feel superior. It's a fucking labyrinth. Where's the exit? The Periwinkle Sheep Watercolors Worsted Superwash in Truffle I am lucky. I could have fuckin' lupus. I'm lucky. I found out I had Lime Disease because the tick was still attached to my arm and my arm had the tell tale physical symptoms, a nasty infection and a rash. I am lucky. Two weeks of antibiotics and I will be cured and maybe even now immune to Lime Disease. The CDC isn't 100% sure about the latter, but the former? Fuck yeah. I am lucky. If it's one think I hate. HATE. ...

It seems like I've stopped treading water and am know swimming somewhere. Where, I don't know, but a place other than where I am at. Metaphysically speaking. (I just looked up metaphysically and metaphysics on www.m-w.com and I'm not sure it's the right word. It feels right, though, so I'm sticking with it.) I feel impelled to blog, to take hold of the moment, to remain someone who is doing something, rather than someone who is weathering something. Above is a lovely skein of Madtosh sock in the Fragrant colorway. (One of my WEBS purchases.) I picked up a couple of skeins of the colorway in her Vintage line that just screamed my name. Unfortunately my photos do not capture their magic. A few weeks ago I saw a photo of a WIP in a fellow knit blogger's Flickr photostream, Peaknit . OMG! To die for project in such a beautiful medley of pea and teal greens and blues. Her rav project page noted she was undecided if the WIP was for her or to be C...