100

Here's the little handspun cable again, awaiting some more fiber to be procured and spun up to go with it.  Looks a bit like a long straight stretch of highway, no?  Not that the knitting road is ever straight; maybe that's why like this picture.  Looking at it reminds me that knitting itself is straightforward:

Idea + String + Pointy Sticks = Fun. 

It's all the other stuff we add to the mix that makes it challenging; things like rules and expectations and other stake-raisers that can reduce the fun side of the equation if we aren't careful to keep a little perspective.

Today is my 100th blog post, in honor of which I have created the following list of

Things I Have Done 100 times Since Beginning My Blog

            Frogged 3 or more rows of knitting

            Asked the Smallies to turn off the bathroom light (x 10)

            Stayed up way too late knitting

            Talked myself down from the brink of blowing the grocery money on yarn

            Failed to talk myself down from same (What can I say? My success rate is 50%)

            Wondered what I have done to anger the Knitting Gods

            Wondered how I ever got so lucky as to have become a knitter

            Wished I were as clever/knowledgeable/experienced as my heros

            Noticed I'm getting better, just by virtue of the constant repetition

            Explained to a non-knitter that I know you can buy sweaters at the store

            Lost my stitch marker

            Lost my place in the chart

            Lost my patience

            Found inspiration

            Found solace
            
            Found Religion

100 times I have come here to spill my guts to you.  100 times I have asked myself "Who cares about that anyway?".  100 times I have surprised myself, challenged myself, laughed at myself.

Thank you for being here to do it all with me.  Here's looking at the next 100 stitches.
 

A Visual Medium

It turns out that if you want to be a knitter, or in any case, a knitter who shares what they're up to with anybody else, you had better also become a photographer.  Not that I had any clue about that when I went public, or I probably would have contemplated it a bit longer.  Nevertheless, here I am with a bunch of stuff to report on, and no pix to show you.  Why no pix, you may ask?  Because one wee drawback of being a knitter who publishes work is the fact that I'm supposed to (usually) keep my work under wraps until it's available for your use/enjoyment.  Why, I'm not fully sure, but I think it's mostly to preserve the surprise.  You are (so the theory goes) less likely to dash out and snap up my latest books and patterns if you have already seen them in gruesome detail for the whole time I'm developing them.  Makes sense, I suppose.  Who wants to buy a pattern once you've endured photos of me frogging it nine times?  Still, the issue does make for bland blog posts sometimes; notably the busier I am making things, the less likely you are to see engaging photos of works in progress. 

Here is what I learned this week about photos of knitting:

            1.    You cannot photograph Dark Purple knitting in any room of my house.  The photos are all overexposed, underexposed, too yellow, too blue, too close or too far away.  If you want a decent shot of Dark Purple knitting, you have to go outside on a nice sunny day.

            2.    It rains in Portland, Oregon, every single day.

            3.    If it has stopped raining in Portland, Oregon, then one of the following must apply:
                a.    It's the middle of the night
                b.    It's the weekend and I'm in a windowless arena observing my children's athletic activities.
                c.    It's the Rapture

So while I have a swell purple vest, and an equally inspiring gray sleeve to show you, they are on the QT for now.  Be patient with me - I really am up to something good.
 

Room With a View

Today I'm ruminating on the nature of workspace.  I have been torturing Phillip for a while now, and he has agreed to let me remodel the unfinished space in our garage for a Proper Atelier.  He has also agreed to let me figure out how to pay for it, too.  Dude is so magnanimous.  Above is the third or fourth incarnation of my plan - like everything, it's a work in progress.  I'm asking a lot of one little room:  writing/office, sewing/cutting/blocking, spinning/skeining/winding, reading/relaxing/hiding from my family.  I have elected not to include a sink, because I have not yet gotten into dyeing, which I hope is not something I regret soon.  Can't have everything, right? 

So, what have I forgotten?  Tell me what's in your dream studio...