Surprise Package

Yesterday's Post contained an unassuming brown paper envelope, addressed to me.  I tried to remember what I had ordered, and for whose Christmas delight, from New York, NY. 

Surprise!  The delight was my own:

One of my first projects for 2011 was this little cap:
 

How fitting that it's published in time to close this year, and greet the new one.  It uses one skein of the delightful Cascade 220 Sport.  It's the sort of hat that won't totally crush your coif, and the yarnovers provide just enough ventilation so you won't have to take it off to avoid overheating.

I hope I never get over the thrill of seeing something I made in print.  It really is surreal.  One minute it's just my knitting, there in my lap like always.  And the next, it's all sexy and posed like a fashion model in this glossy book.  Isn't yarn grand?

Take a minute to look at the knitting in your lap today (okay, first take a minute to PUT some knitting in your lap today - you deserve it).  Be grateful for all those minutes you had it in line at the post office, and it kept you from running mad.  Be happy for every single stitch in it, how ever many there may be: each one is another time you did something perfectly.  Squeeze its bouncy softness.  Pet its fluffy halo.  Appreciate each gorgeous decrease, or clever yarnover.  Every part of it brought you comfort to make, and satisfaction to hold.  What else in life besides our knitting gives so much, while taking so little from us?

Comfort and Joy, every day of the year.  Thanks for sharing it with me.
 

Coming Attractions

I'd like to extend my sincere thanks to all of you, Gentle Readers, for your patience with me this summer.  21 finished garments and 128 swatches later, you haven't seen anything I've knitted since last February, which has GOT to make for some dull blog reading.  For those who have stuck with me, please accept my humble gratitude. For those who drifted away, I'll never blame you.  If you were wondering when things might get more visual here at the blog, let me assure you:  It's coming.  Tell your friends. 

First, here are some sneak peeks.  Some you have seen before, and accepted my promises that there would one day be patterns available.  Others are making their public debut:

There are five designs in all; Three for adults, and two for children.  I'll be self-publishing them all, and offering them on line only.  And here is where your expertise is required, dear friends:  How would you like to see them offered?  As a collection, in an e-book?  Pattern of the Month club?  Mystery Knitalong?  Individual patterns?  As well-versed knitting consumers, you know best what pattern delivery systems are fun, economical, and inspirational.  I'm asking you to share with me what you have done before that you liked (or didn't).  How exclusive do you like your patterns to be?  Would you rather buy them in a group, at a discount, or pick and choose individual designs? Thank you in advance for your input - you never steer me wrong.
 

All DPNs, All The Time

It could be due to last week's prolonged exposure to all things sock, but I just noticed that I have three projects going at the same time, and they are all on DPNs:

Here's a sock (knee high) that I somehow managed not to finish at Sock Summit.  No idea what I must have been doing with my time.  Call me unsophisticated, but I really love a stockinette sock.  There is no better way to really see what yarn is like than to make a nice smooth tube out of it:

And here's my mom's 78th birthday sock.  It's my first-ever cable-and-lace sock attempt.  The pattern is called Clover, and it's really fun to make!  Among Clover's many charms is the fact that I didn't design it.  Sometimes following a pattern that somebody else has already perfected can be like going on vacation.  This is a particularly guilty pleasure because other people's sock patterns are definitely NOT on my book writing production schedule.  But how often is your mom going to turn 78?  We are not savages here, after all:

And finally, I'm pleased to tell you that I get to teach a class about mittens at Seattle's Nordic Heritage Museum, the first weekend of November.  I'm making something special for them that I really love.  Sneak Peek:

But this is the best part.  I sat next to Teri Shea at the Sock Summit opening ceremonies.  In between snacks and speakers, she graciously showed me how to properly gusset a Selbu mitten thumb.  I've been working slot-style thumbs on all my Selbuvotter, partly because I thought the technique would be too hard to teach (totally not true) and partly because I thought it would be too hard to learn (also a complete delusion):

Hard to get knitting sexier than that.  And it's completely anatomically correct, unlike a thumb slot.  Sorry thumb slots: Working you has been a really useful hack, but now that I know how the pros do it, I'm afraid you're dead to me.  You'll always have a place in my knitting.  It's just at the bottom of the basket now. 

And Ms. Shea, if you're listening, I'm converted:  Your work here is done.  I'm one step closer to becoming you when I grow up.

So all my knitting is pointy today.  The coffee table, and the arms of my knitting chair, and my lap, are hedgehoggy with DPNs.  Nice work, if you can get it.