Got the Message

Some e-mails are more fun than others.  If you've ever shopped at amazon.com, you know that they data-mine your every move, and then send you mail suggesting that you buy other things just like the thing you already bought.  This morning I got a message from amazon suggesting that I should really buy some new knitting books.

Not a bad idea, I thought, and checked their list of suggestions

Call me crazy, but that one there at the very bottom looks like a real winner...

Seriously, is there anything more surreal than getting an email suggesting that you buy a book you have written?  Ha Ha.  Thanks Amazon!

Just a Little Bit Foxy

The Jane W. Scott cardigan had to go to the back of the stove while I got back to work, once the yarn I'd been waiting for arrived.  Since the last post, I banged out my last three pairs of slippers for the book.  Contraband Process Photo #1 (don't tell on me for letting you peek):

I'm super proud of these because as the last pattern in my book, they represent the top of a very steep learning curve.  I went from being only a casual slipper knitter at the beginning of this project to an almost-cobbler at the end. 

I've begun to understand the architecture of the foot as it relates to shoes, as opposed to socks.  By which I mean that socks all follow the same basic recipe:  Top, Leg, Heel, Toe.  Or the reverse of that.  And there are variations on the ways to shape each of those parts.  But socks rely on their stretch to fit around feet, and yarn is fantastic at doing that. 

Slippers, on the other hand (foot?), have to behave differently.  They have to support themselves, to a great extent, which means they can't always fall back on their stretch, if at all.  The architecture of the human foot is pretty weird, if you think about it: a flat ovoid at the toes, graduating up to more of a cylinder around the instep, a super-extreme right-angle curve at the heel (which bends, for crying out loud!), and then the cylinder gets bigger in diameter on the way up to the calf.  Making a single piece to fit (and stay on) all that is quite a proposition when what you're knitting is not a sock.  And if the slippers are supposed to look like critters, as do many in my book, the recipe gets even weirder.  Really?  Animals that you can stick your foot inside?  Just another day at the office.  But I think I've mostly achieved it.  Hopefully you'll agree (Contraband Process Photo #2):

"Foxy" from Fun & Fantastical Slippers to Knit, coming soon to a store near you.  My favorite thing about this pair is that there are no seams in the knitting.  The entire shoe, including the instep strap, is made in one piece.  The foxy bits are made separately and sewn on after felting.  But if you look again at process shot #1 above, you'll see:  These are really shoes, to which if you added a sole and an insole, could totally be worn outside.  One day I'm going to try it and see if I'm right.  After I take a restorative break from feet, and the bizarre coverings thereof.

I've also realized that between this and my last book, I've produced 48 projects and patterns in 12 months.  A total of 256 pages.  Which is in addition to my independent projects and teaching.  I'm confident in saying that I've learned a whole lot, in a pretty short time.  I can't wait to share it all with you. 

But first, I'm thinking I'll put my feet up for a bit.

Scuff Happens

What did you learn this week?  I learned that there are slippers that have to have cardboard inside of them, and that it's not a bad thing.  I learned that some edgings have to look sexy from both sides of the work, but it can be done.  And I learned that even if you successfully avoid learning how to make wrong-side right and left-leaning decreases by not knitting lace, you still may not be safe from them.  If you invent something like this, for example:

Yep, on Monday, I did not know how to knit scuff slippers.  It's Friday, and now I do.  Crazy! 

First of all, if you go looking around for patterns of scuff slippers, the first thing you will notice is that they are all for felted slippers.  Nothing wrong with that, you understand, but because mine were going to be stranded colorwork, I didn't want to felt them.  Which means I had to devise some method of stiffening the soles that could hide underneath a leather layer, still be a little bit flexible, not cost too much, and be easy for knitters to get.  Oh, and extra stiff-leather soles are out because most of us don't have the leatherworking tools needed to shape and sew them.  Bother.

Enter the very smart Katie Starzman, whose book:

reveals her secret:  Chipboard!  It's that stiff brown cardboard you can get at the craft store in sheets.  It's easily cut with scissors, inexpensive, and easy to find, and works like a charm.  Thanks, Katie!

So what about those wrong-side increases?  Well, it's my own fault, as usual:  When I design, I imagine the way I want the finished project to look, and then amass or invent the actual skills to get myself there.  Which is a lot like putting a weathervane up in the air and then trying to build a house underneath it, but there you go; I'm not much for Order of Operations.

I wanted pointy points on the instep, and I wanted them to be decreased, not increased.  OK, to decrease them, the slipper can to start out with a provisional CO, from which you pick up and knit the pointy points at the end. Done.  But the rate of decreases worked on the RS is just not steep enough.  So?  Make decreases every row (rather than every other), which means some of them (about half, as it  turns out) will be happening on the WS.  Here's the ridiculous part Mary-ish part: Rather than take the time to actually learn the new skill I needed, I just made one up.  On the WS row, every time I needed a decrease, I would turn the work around to the RS, mirror-knit it (cough*thanks Mary B* cough), turn the work around again and proceed.  I can tell that it worked fine, because the decreases are all leaning in the proper directions.

Only when it came time to write the pattern for YOU, Gentle Knitters, did I go looking and learn that you can actually perform those maneuvers quite easily from the WS (as God intended), and they even have their own proper names!  CLICK HERE for excellent knowledge from the learned and wise Sandi R on these sexy party tricks.  And Lace Knitters who are smarter than me and have been forever, thank you for so graciously witholding your derision.  Feel free to smirk, though.

And last of all, that edging.  I knew I wanted it to be applied knitted cord, but it wasn't until I got to the place where the edge of the slipper switches from being the "right side" to being the "wrong side" (like the edge of a jacket lapel) that I realized what a truly useful thing knitted cord edging is.  It looks equally tidy from either side.  Elizabeth Zimmermann has been trying to tell me this for years, but I didn't receive her full message until now.  Thanks, Knitting!

So that's three things I learned in just one week.  I have to admit I'm feeling a little bit smug.  Which is good, because a lot of other experiences I had this week were (heinous) less elucidating.