Still slogging through the knitting xlympics (can't say the real word of course). I've finished and medalled in two events so far: Frogging Trampoline and Cowl Jump. Oh, and Synchronized Stash Busting, though I thought I splashed a bit on entry.
For this week's celebrity moment, I was interviewed by our local alternative weekly again, this time on the Ravelympics brouhaha. It was a pretty straightforward interview, going for the local angle, though I think the reporter was reaching a bit. For example, this was one of the questions:
"The USOC called Ravelympics disrespectful to athletes. What do you think about that? Do you knit to rebel against athletes or for another motivation?"
Obviously, I knit to rebel against athletes. I sit here at home, furiously knitting and muttering to myself, "Ha! That will show those finely-honed bodies!"
The interview comes out tomorrow. I can't wait to see what a knitting nerd I sound like.
Tonight's event: moebius cowl:
I'm interrupting my Olympics knitting to check in here. "Olympics knitting?" I hear you say, or maybe you didn't, but I'll explain anyway.
As you may know if you're an avid reader of this blog (i.e. my siblings), I belong to a knitting social website called Ravelry. I won't go on about it here, except to say that they hold a virtual knitting Olympics every two years. (Only it's not an Olympics! Really! Don't sue me, USOC!) There are events, teams, finish lines, medals etc.
This year I'm competing in Shawl Sailing, Frogging Trampoline (ripping out old knitting), Handspun Heptathalon, Cowl Jump and a number of other cutely-named events. It's a great excuse to sit and watch the Olympics and knit while ignoring laundry, meals, cleaning and other distracting activities. Of course, in my household that means maybe a half hour total of uninterrupted time, what with the washing machine breaking, dog getting skunked, six teens gathering for a camp-out, caring for the vacationings neighbors' plants, fish and mail and eradicating the perennial devil weed. It's a marathon, not a sprint, just like life.
I medalled! For ripping something out.
Shawl sailing: preliminaries
I'm posting my past Ravelympics medals proudly on my sidebar again. My favorite part is highlighted below: our work denigrates athletes, but they'd like us to send them some anyway... Hmm, what should I knit?
It wouldn't seem to be a good idea to get 2 million people with pointy sticks angry at you, but the U.S. Olympic Committee did just that.
So it has just apologized for sending a "cease and desist" letter to a social networking site for knitters that is holding its own sort-of Olympic games.
Here's what the knotty legal dispute is about:
As Gawker reported, knitters were "in revolt" because the USOC's legal beagles got on their case this week over the website Ravelry's "Ravelympics" — featuring such competitions as the "Afghan marathon."
To the USOC, that "may constitute trademark infringement, unfair competition and dilution of our famous trademarks," as its letter to Ravelry co-founder Casey Forbes states.
"It's looking like we may have to rename the Ravelympics," Forbes said in a Ravelry post.
But his fellow fans of the knit and the purl didn't give up easily. They left a ton of messages on U.S. Olympic Team's Facebook page, hit Twitter with their complaints, and emailed the USOC. Of particular concern to many: What they felt was the letter's insulting tone.
Which led to the Olympics committee casting off the idea of going after the knitters. In a statement posted online this afternoon, spokesman Patrick Sandusky says in part:
"Thanks to all of you who have posted, tweeted, emailed and called regarding the letter sent to the organizers of the Ravelympics.
"Like you, we are extremely passionate about what we do. ...
"The letter sent to the organizers of the Ravelympics was a standard-form cease and desist letter that explained why we need to protect our trademarks in legal terms. Rest assured, as an organization that has many passionate knitters, we never intended to make this a personal attack on the knitting community or to suggest that knitters are not supportive of Team USA.
"We apologize for any insult and appreciate your support. We embrace hand-crafted American goods as we currently have the Annin Flagmakers of New Jersey stitching a custom-made American flag to accompany our team to the Olympic Games in London. To show our support of the Ravelry community, we would welcome any handmade items that you would like to create to travel with, and motivate, our team at the 2012 Games."
I finally finished MyBigBro's second sock. Only eight months for the pair. I guess I'm not ready to join the Sock-of the-Month Club yet. Maybe if they weren't a foot and a half long each, I might have finished earlier. Or if they weren't so boring. But they're essentially done. (In the fluid definition of "finished" by a knitter - I only have one sock with me so I can't officially finish until Steve measures the original length.)
Steve: here are the instructions:
So of course I'm now eagerly planning the next pair.
This time they'll be interesting, less splitty, smaller and I'll whip them out in a month or so. We knitters dare to dream, each time we gaze at our stash, thumb through our pattern books, consult the Ravelry project pages. Of course I also just started my next big cardigan project after weeks of agonizing about patterns. And I have the never-ending Sea Lettuce scarf going in Lucy N's honor. But that's okay - I allow myself three works-in-progress at a time, so I'm good.
Okay, I'm off to my sock dreams...
Bend is honored to have a Famous Knitter here this week. Non-knitting people are always surprised to know that there actually are famous knitters. But why not? Patterns, other than the simple scarf or washcloth, have to come from somewhere. There are real designers behind them, selling and publishing their work in books and magazines. So the knitting world, like the fashion world, revolves around designers, and there are a number of well-known ones.
But I digress. (I'm going to assign a shorthand abbreviation for that: BID. And now I digress on my digression.)
My knitting group has organizes a two-day workshop with a knitting designer/teacher, and she has arrived. It's Lucy Neatby, she of the blue and fuschia hair and mismatched colored boots. Lucy is a combination of organized, detailed instructor, technically brilliant designer and creative artist. Her DVD series has taught thousands of knitters from the basics to intricate techniques, and she's really cool. And did I mention she's staying with me this week?
My cats are thrilled to have another lap to claim.
Look! I made yarn! 30 whole yards! It's a bit lumpy and uneven, but I call it "art yarn."
It's a long way from a sweater, or even a scarf, but I'm powering on.
Help! I need an intervention! I've gotten into s p i n n i n g.
My more athletically-inclined readers are assuming "indoor group stationary bike workouts" (which is bizarre, frankly).
My Deadhead readers are dreamily reminiscing about those far-out concerts, dancing to Sugar Magnolia.
And my fiber friends are nodding their heads, saying it was just a matter of time...
I am referring to the kind of spinning where you take prepared wool and twist it to form yarn, an ancient domestic art with tons of romance and mystique. Because I don't have enough hobbies. That take a lot of tools and space. That you need to buy stuff for. And that don't get me out of the house.
I always said I'd never take up spinning like many of my other knitting friends have. And I still say I won't buy a pricy spinning wheel with all the expensive ancillary equipment and learn technical wheel mechanics. No, I've gotten sucked in by a basic, non-mechanical piece of wood that's brilliant in its simplicity and functionality: the spindle.
Here's mine, with my first attempt at yarn:
Simple and basic. But it's worrisome, none the less. Why do I need more yarn??? I have more yarn than I can knit in my lifetime, so now I've decided to manufacture the stuff on my own? And once you spin it, you don't stop there. You then have to wind it on bobbins, ply it together, skein it, soak it, hang it to dry, and wind it into a ball BEFORE you even begin to knit with it!
So I've taken a hobby I already spend too much time obsessing about and taken it about seven steps back.
What can I say: it's fascinating, mesmerizing, meditative and consuming me right now. Hey, it doesn't hurt anyone, right? (Though I've been eyeing the cat - all that soft fluffy angora-like raw material right in front of me...)
At least I'm not raising the sheep for the raw fleece, which adds about elebenty billion more steps to the process.
Yet.
Some random sitings at the Madrona Fiber Retreat.
Knit sweaters are all shapeless bulky and itchy.
Habu: Japanese handknit designs fashioned from finely-spun metals, paper, silk and wool fibers. Drapey, deconstructed and divine...
Knitters are boring goody-goodies.
A portrait of Stephanie of the Gothsocks that I've written about previously, black-striping yarn with colors like "Dark & Twisty" and "Zombie Prostitute." She has a huge cult following and sold out her entire booth at Madrona in the first half-hour. And yes, that is her real hair color (inside joke, sorry).
Knitters are frumpy.
I couldn't take a picture of her as I was sitting right by her, but sitting in the lobby next to me was an elegant and stylish woman with thigh-high boots, sleek up-do, trendy glasses and a martini glass motoring along on a drapey piece of knitting. Extra points as she was reading a book as she was knitting, sitting under an original Chuck Close painting. There were also a number of young urban trendies with tights and combat boots, tattoos and tiny tank tops, spinning on wheels and knitting intricate socks. No photos - I was too shy.
Men who knit must be effeminate girly-men.
![IMG_4809[1]](http://farm6.static.flickr.com/5097/5465500017_dce7d5e9f2_m.jpg)
Meet Charlton, my tablemate in the "Advanced Cables" class. After we discussed the Bosox spring training prospects and he dissed Carl Crawford (!), he got out his tools and got to work. On size 1 needles. I was impressed
He's cute, he's nice, he's hip and he can really knit. Jared Flood of Brooklyn Tweed. Of course he's young enough to be my son, or at least a kid I once babysat. It's not that kind of crush. Much. He's an incredible designer and photographer and teacher and the coolest guy. Go check out his work. It's okay, I'll wait.
I took two classes with him today: "A Taste of Lace" and "Advanced Cabling" which were very enlightening, and if you ask me nicely I'll share some of my new-found wisdom with you over a glass of wine.
Here he is enlightening us about steeks, a frightening technique where you cut your knitting right up the front without fear.
Here we are after class. Whew, made it through the scary part!
And he inscribed my copy of his book, Made in Brooklyn, but I can't share that with you 'cause it's private. Sigh.
OK. Time to go dream about all things wool.
Tomorrow: knitting stereotypes shattered! Stay tuned.
So happy to be back in the land of the Spiritual Room Service Menu! I think this time I'll order up the body pillow with the Tao Te Ching, or maybe the Bhagavad Gita. I'm not even sure that that last one is. I'm going to arrange them all on my bed before my as-yet-unknown roommate gets in. That'll freak her out!
Yes, I'm back at the Hotel Murano for the Madrona Fiber Arts Retreat, my fourth year here. More crazy knitting ladies wearing their handmades. This time there's a lot more. The hotel, a 20-something floor nouveau remade of an old Sheraton, is completely sold out. So is the rest of Tacoma - we hear that there's a wrestling tournament and a cheerleaders' convention in town as well. My suggestion: all three groups get together in one convention center, make new friends and learn new skills. We could cheer on a knitting throwdown! Whoo! Who's with me?
Anyway, I went by Lollipop Cabin's booth to collect my pay for doing a sample knit for her and this is what I picked out:
![IMG_4806[1]](..\..\.a\6a00e55239d30888340147e2a9a657970b-pi.jpg "IMG_4806[1]")
Not sure what got into me - this is pretty rainbow pastelly, or what we call in the knitting world "unicorn barf." I love love love it though. No idea what I'll make out of it. Maybe a cuddly lap robe, 'cause it's unlikely I could ever wear these colors out in the world.
And here's the answer to the question I posed about the pronunciation of Ialiuxh, the first name of the very cool yarntrepreneur behind Lollipop Cabin: it's ill-ay'-uh. No one even came close.
More yarny goodness to come. I'm off to my first class: "Designing your own stitch patterns." Another useless skill to add to my repertoire! Wish me luck.
A measure of one's obsession with a hobby is the number of books you read on the subject. Fishermen read fishing books, gardeners read seed catalogues, travelers read travel guides, etc. I read about knitting. How boring have I become, really?
I have to confess that for me reading about knitting is sometimes a way of procrastinating from actually doing it. That might seem confusing to non-knitters -- if I love to knit so much, why would I procrastinate? -- a behavior which I frankly can't explain.
Knitting book titles tend to lean heavily on bad puns, especially the knitting/mystery sub-genre, for example:
Dropped Dead Stitch, A Killer Yarn, Skein of the Crime (which is confusing: I've always pronounced "skein" as skane, not skeen), Sins and Needles. I've never actually read any of these - I like my mysteries more gritty than twee.
Then there are the instruction and pattern books. A sampling of titles:
Dominaknitrix: Whip your knitting into shape Fun book, but I couldn't find one pattern I'd actually wear in it. It's going into the swap pile for my knitting group.
Knitting outside the Socks. Groan.
Hattitude Lots and lots of hats.
Knitting with Balls: a hands-on guide to knitting for the modern man. I wish I knew someone to gift this with.
Knitting for Barbie: 75 Fabulous Fashions Please shoot me if you ever see me with this.
And my favorite, though I doubt I'll ever take up this technique:
Knitting with Dog Hair : Better a sweater from a dog you know and love than from a sheep you'll never meet.The blurb reads: "Stop vacuuming and start knitting! Learn to recycle Rover into beautiful garments and accessories as the authors teach you this wacky new spin on an old craft."
I hope they warn you to never get caught in the rain.
Here's a poor photo of the sample knit I just finished. Better photo to come.
As with many other industries, the fiber world has seen the growth of "independent" producers in the last decade. These are entrepreneurs who spin and/or dye their own yarn for sale, as compared to big corporate fiber companies. It's a little fuzzy (ha) as to how big you can be before you're no longer an indie. But generally, these are in-home DIY'ers who sell on-line via their own websites and etsy.com, at fiber shows and to a few shops.
Like many knitters, I've traveled the path from originally buying acrylic yarn at big-box stores, moving to nicer wools at yarn shops, and now collecting mostly handspuns and hand-dyed from artisans. Of course the prices have traveled the same upward path. But what befits a handmade article more than handmade yarn? And once you've used it it's hard to go back.
I haven't taken the final steps to spinning and dying my own yarn and raising the sheep as some knitters have, and hopefully I won't, as the last thing I need is more craft equipment or animals. I think I'll stop at supporting those who do.
I knit this Dandy Neckerchief as a favor is to show off yarn for a dyer's booth at upcoming fiber shows. (Plus I get paid back in yarn.) The dyer has the inpronouncable name of Ialiuxh and her company is called Lollipop Cabin. The yarn is called "Phluffiee," described as follows:
Only available once a year, this organic yarn from Canadian sheep is spun by a small North American mill then hand-dyed by Lollipop Cabin, one skein at a time in a wee little cabin with rain water from the Pacific Northwest Cascades, using environmentally friendly dyes suitable for a grey water system.
How indie/artisan/DIY is that?
And today's challenge: how would you pronounce "Ialiuxh?" edited to add: the first letter is an i, not an L.
Hey - remember top ten Tuesdays? Me neither. But here's one now!
I made great knitting resolutions in 2009, and none in 2010. Maybe because none of the 2009 ones were kept, so they fit under my resolution-carryover rule. Anyway, here are some for 2011:
In the tradition of knitters everywhere, I cling to very optimistic views of what I can produce on deadline. I've been on the Knitmas train since early October, and here's the tally of finished objects so far (identifying details have been removed to protect the surprise):
I still have to finish: 1 scarf (halfway done), 3 hats (2 started so far), 1 sock and 1 set of mitts. There are six knitting days left until Christmas. Piece of cake, right?
I've already informed several recipients that they're not getting their gifts til after Christmas, so that buys me a little more time. Meanwhile, I won't be blogging, or doing much of anything but knitting with grim determination and focus. Other than taking four planes to North Carolina, setting up my parents' tree, baking cookies, making meals, doing errands and shopping and trying to keep Henry entertained. Should be a fun week! Really.
Note: this is not happening again next Christmas. Target gift certificates for all!
How are you all doing on your Christmas lists?
Over my life, I've fallen in and out of love with many different... colors. [I bet you thought I was going to say men. That's also true, though a topic for another post.] As a child, gazing at pink and blue together actually gave me a physical thrill. That's no longer true, sadly. I went through a red phase, including painting a bedroom wall deep enamel red in high school which my mother approved, bless her heart. Pink and coral are still perennial favorites, though not with blue, and brown has wormed its way back into my wardrobe, almost supplanting black, though not totally. And you may remember my recent fling with chartreuse that continues still.
But as #1 Sister knows, I've always intensely disliked the color purple. This makes me an anomaly in my family: it's MyBigBro's favorite non-black color, my mom and #1 both like it, and Dr. Sister likes "jewel-tones" including purple; but me, not. [Note to self: query dad re: opinion of purple.]
That's why I was more than a little freaked out when I realized that the last six balls of yarn I've purchased have all included purple. Real purple, not just a certain shade of blue-ish lilac which I've always kind of liked.
Check this out:
So clearly I can no longer categorically state that I don't like purple.
However, I can still say that I really dislike dark green. And burnt orange. Especially together, or when they're with purple. I don't think that will change, but you never know...
I think it's interesting that color preferences can change. Have you warmed up to a formerly-rejected color, or fallen out of love with a certain hue?
There's a knitter's blog titled "I'm knitting as fast as I can!" and I so relate right now. Due to the confluence of my deepening knitting obsession and being broke, I've decided to produce all my Christmas gifts via the needles this year. Since everyone in my family still gives a present to everyone else (despite vowing for years to stop the practice), that means 11 gifts right there. Then there are friends, co-workers-who-are-friends, special teachers and neighbors. Actually, many of those are getting canned goods, i.e. lovingly-homemade jams, sauces and chutneys that were my September obsession. Still, that leaves a lot of knitting to be done.
Things I'm making: berets, watchcaps, fingerless mitts, scarves, cowls, slippers and if I panic and run out of time, a washcloth or two, and possibly a few more felted mice and coffee cozies. I'm about halfway through, and if I'm averaging one gift every five days, I should just make it. I can't show you anything I've made as you may be a lucky recipient, so I'll just flash my stash, as we say in the knitting crowd. 
All of this will be knitted up, within my lifetime. Really.
I've taught myself how to do many things with the help of library books and Google. Minor plumbing, household repairs, computer upgrades, child-rearing (no family elders this side of the Rockies). But, I'm not much of a self-taught knitter. It tends to be too frustrating, so I rely on classes and workshops for advanced techniques. Plus they're fun.
However, while knitting a sock leg in the middle of a flight last week, I taught myself the Magic Loop. It's an approach to knitting with one circular needle for small diameter tube knitting, when the circumference of your tube is smaller than will actually fit around from point to point.
I won't describe the technique here, sparing you all. It always seemed too technical and fiddly, but while drinking the free wine from Alaska Air, I looked at my knitting and thought "what if I...?" And it worked! I wanted to shout "Eureka!" down the length of the plane, but held back and just smiled as I kept going around and around this never-ending sock...
Recent Comments