All in the Family

The more knitters I meet, the more knitters I love.  Last weekend I had the great good fortune to meet the owners and patrons of Purlescence Yarns , In beautiful Sunnyvale, CA.  And when I say "meet", it's more like "be assimilated into the collective".  These people know how to administer the daily dose of fiber.  Here they are in their native habitat, "The Living Room":

Note the presence of all the essentials in the living room:  Comfy chairs (all different sizes for all different knitters), laptops, water bottles, and tissue, in case anybody laughs so hard they spew.  Yes, it could happen here.

All ages are welcome in the Living Room.  All experience levels, and all degrees of commitment.  Purlescence is a place where everybody knows your name.

My new friends at Purlescence fed me beautiful food, regaled me with hilarious anecdotes, and let me touch ALL their yarn.  They knit, they spin, they weave, they teach, they design, and most of all, they love.  Nathania, Sandy and Kaye, together with their families, reach out to connect with everyone they meet.

That's so much more than a Local Yarn Shop.  That's Family.

Stop by and get assimilated next time you're in the neighborhood.

Doing Nothing

Still searching for my Muse, I followed your advice, Gentle Readers.  When nothing is happening, then that's what you should be doing: Nothing.

I mellowed out and spun some more, not in my usual style, but as loose and relaxed as I possibly could make it.  My three plies wanted to become worsted-weight, so that's what I let them do:

I'm happier with it than I expected, considering how uncomfortable it was to spin that loosely.  Nice lesson in letting go of control, that.

After that, I felt I could take another crack at the Garter Stitch, seen here under the not-vigilant guard of the sleeping MacTarnahan:

Garter stitch is also not easy for me.  Something about the way the stitches present seems like exactly too much work for my fingers.  Not like stockinette, where the stitches are just a little more inviting to the needle.  I do dig the uncurliness of the fabric, though, which is an extremely welcome change from stockinette. 

I chose garter stich for the bottom of my cardigan because I just could not face another bout of 2 x 2 rib.  It's not that I couldn't suck it up and deliver the 2 x 2; especially now that I have the killer cast-on  for it in my bag of tricks.  No, the problem is that there is no corresponding tubular bind off for 2 x 2, and I have my heart set on matching trim edges for this beastie.  So garter it is.  And in spite of my petulant little attitude, I have to say that in this painted yarn, garter stitch is really beautiful:

Get a load of those sweet little color pebbles, will ya?  Totally worth doing.  Would be nice if I had remembered that garter takes twice as long as other stitches when I issued the decree to myself, though.  Mean Designer.

Tomorrow I'm on a plane to Sunnyvale, CA, where I get to play with the sassy knitters of Purlescence Yarns .   Drop by if you're in the neighborhood, and see what sort of trouble we get up to!
 

My Hovercraft is Full of Eels (and other diffucult translations)

Although the sparkly thing from my last post was complete in plenty of time to wear for my birthday party, I inexplicably lost interest in it the moment it was off the needles.  Haven't even blocked it yet.  No idea why.  Another instance of a completed project who needs a trip to the Aging Closet in order to be appreciated by its maker.  Fickle knitter.

I slammed the works into reverse, thinking that I had holdover guilt from Unfulfilled Sock Camp Energy:

The astute among you, Gentle Readers, will immediately observe that these are the PINKEST  socks ever witnessed by Humankind.  The closure of finishing them did not provide the release I expected, although I have to admit a small degree of smugness at having completed them in less than a week, Epic Sock Camp Scavenger Hunt duties notwithstanding.

I immediately ground the gears into sweater-from-sock-yarn mode, whereby I wound this beauty into balls and discovered Garter Stitch.  While thrilling, for reasons which defy explanation, Garter Stitch began to make me feel cross, somewhere around the 45th row on a size three needle with 240 stitches on it.  Go Figure.

There is simply no accounting for this inability to commit to a project.  It's not as if I haven't tried, for heaven's sake.  It isn't as though any distractions (sanitation standards in a building I have not inhabited in many days, and will be leaving again soon) are pulling my focus.  Heaven knows, I've been paying attention to the yarn, for goodness sake.  I've been whispering to it in a way that would make my husband jealous (if he were here, and not busy with grad school finals).  I've been caressing the skeins with the ardor of a misunderstood nobleman in a bodice-ripper romance.

And does it speak to me?  Does it beckon me to Cast On?  Not a Whit, Gentle Readers.  Clearly my muse has left the building. 

Undaunted (or unwilling to face the topsoil on the kitchen floor), I spun.  Here is Asia, painted by Abstract Fiber .  Nice bit of spinning, but still not quite the diversion I required. 

So what's my problem, anyway?  No idea.  Maybe I just miss my new friends from Camp.  Maybe I'm raring up to pitch the proposal for my new book, and it has me slightly worried.  Sophomore effort, and all that. 

Here's what I do know:  In a world where all the children don't have a good meal and a hot bath and a story before bedtime, my tiny woes are hardly worth mentioning.  Really?  You don't know which gorgeous pile of fiber to play with next?  Let me get out my violin.  In a world where war, and poverty, and want are everywhere, my little struggle with creativity (or the want thereof) is a pretty fine problem, indeed.  Lucy girl I am.  Even if my hovercraft IS full of eels.