Swatchmaster 3000

Gentle Readers, you may recall that a few posts back, I had taken it upon myself to make the sample swatches for my class at Madrona.  I stand by the decision, as having these done for my students sets them up for success, and it's just a nice way to go about it.  However, I will admit that it took much longer to get them then I expected.  Partly that's because of my Math Issue, and partly it's because I think I'm superhuman, which I'm not.  Don't tell my kids.

Here they are, completed, in all their swatchy glory.  They remind me of my own private clone army, marching off to sacrifice themselves to the cause of The Steek.

It's an apt comparison, really.  I always say we knitters will one day take over the world; so it's about time we had our own army, no?

I'm off to an ice skating competition with Lindsay for the weekend.  I know I should take knitting or I will be very sad indeed, but after spending this morning marshaling the army, I may actually be temporarily knitted out.  Impossible.  Someone take my temperature and arrange for emergency cashmere therapy.  STAT!
 

3 Things I Know About Billings, Montana

Tomorrow morning at about a million o'clock, I'm going to visit Billings, Montana for the first time ever.  Here is what I know about it, so far:

1.    Billings is home to Julia Warmer, who owns Wild Purls:

2.    They have real winter there, not just a colder version of rain-slobber (which is what we have here in Portland, Oregon).  That is actual snow in the weekend forecast:

Somebody somewhere thinks highly enough of them as a city to have produced this T-shirt, on the assumption that others think highly of them as well:

Armed with these facts, I'm storming their beaches tomorrow.  I get to meet the knitters tomorrow, and then play with them all day Saturday.  Big. Fun.

My relentless quest for knowledge (okay, eleven minutes searching the internets) yielded the following important Montana-centric information:


            *    The largest snowflake ever observed was 38 cm wide was recorded in Montana on January 28, 1887. That’s just darn near 15 inches. Amazing!

            *    In Montana, the word "ditch” can be used to order a drink. It means "with water."  "I'd like a Jack Daniel's ditch, please" means, "I'd like a Jack Daniel's and water." This is not a joke. In fact, all you really have to ask for is a "Jack ditch." Try it out the next time you find yourself in a Montana saloon.

            *    It is illegal to have a sheep in the cab of your truck without a chaperone.


And now you, Gentle Readers, are at least as well-informed about my destination as I am.  Just one more service I provide.  Don't know what knitting to take yet. 

Something in Bison?

Swatchy McSwatcherpants

I once took a class for which the instructor (the lovely and talented Arenda Holiday) had pre-knitted all the class swatches.  She had decided early in her teaching career that in order for her students to be successful in the technique she presented, the swatches they worked on had to be dependable, which is to say, all made by the same person.  She liked making swatches, and could knock out bunches of them while watching tv, etc.  It was no hardship for her, and ensured that her students had every advantage. 

For us students, it was pure luxury.  I can't tell you exactly why, but those little knitted squares (perfectly blocked, too) and knitted by someone else brought a level of ease and decadence to the experience that I can scarcely describe.  I promised myself that I would do the same for my class one day, when the opportunity was right.

My Madrona students are being asked to make an entire neckwarmer for their homework.  In light of that lofty goal, I could hardly expect them to make practice swatches, too.  The time had come for me to become a benevolent swatchmaker.

Now, you know that my relationship with math is casual, at best, so when I figured out all by myself that 24 students needed 3 swatches each, for a total of...well...a LOT of swatches, I realized that I should start banging them out, and soon. 

I am normally a reluctant swatcher.  I really only do it because I'm usually writing directions that other people have to follow, and they might come and find me if I'm at all cavalier about things like gauge.  Picky lot, you knitters.  Left to my own devices, I hardly ever bother swatching.  I just kinda use the Force.

But these swatches are different.  They aren't trying to prove anything.  There are no right dimensions to achieve.  If I get a wee square of stranded fabric at the end, then my work there is done.  Little 4-inch success stories; that's what these are.  I couldn't be more smug.  Yes, they are the stranded colorwork equivalent of boiled water.  But you know what?  Some days boiled water is a pretty impressive achievement.  So I'm taking my validation wherever it's offered. 

Appreciating the humble swatch solely on its own merits is a new idea to me.  When the swatch is relieved of all responsibility for informing us of what a garment will be (totally unrealistic notion, by the way), it's really just a cute little mini-project.  Do I want to do this all day?  Not really.  But when I asked myself what there was to be learned from this exercise, I was surprised by the answers.

Swatch On, Dear Friends.