Did Somebody Yell "Cut!"?

Okay, based on some of the comments, I may have done an intellectual drive-by when I went off about sculpting with string, and all those steeks, a couple of days ago.  I finished knitting the bottom half of this vest today, so I thought I'd show you the rest of the gory details, blow by blow.  There is truly nothing mysterious or difficult about what you are about to see.  But if you are at all squeamish about scissors and knitting, you might want to grab something to steady your nerves.  No hurry; I'll wait:

Here's the patient, anesthetized and ready for surgery.  It's just one big oddly-shaped tube at this point.  Strategic slicing, adjacent to the decreases and increases I have already knit in will now cause it to become a shapely vest.  Honest.

Here you can see that the first two cuts are done, both the center front, and the front neckline.  Sort of like butterflying a sweater!

And now I have sliced open the back neckline.  Looks more like a garment all the time...

And finally, the armhole slashes are made.  Voila!  Kinda sweater-like, no?

Next I will perform a three-needle bindoff to join the shoulders, and then let the binding party commence.  Gobs of edges to cover with a swell binding.  See you on the other side!
 

Hapless Bystander

I blame the Cub Scouts. 

Campbell participated in a cake auction this weekend, as a fundraiser for his den.  

Together we chose a recipe for a cake so luscious, so chocolaty, so decadent that I couldn't bear to transport it to the auction in anything less than a proper bakery cake box.  It was raining, after all, and wet cake never raised any funds.

I begged at the grocery.  I implored at the mega-mart.  Nobody seemed to have a disposable container for cake transport.  In a feeble last attempt, I tried the craft store.  You know how they have that cake decorating area?  Yeah, it's right next to the big "Today Only: Paton's Classic Wool $3.99" sign.

And everything after that is kind of a blur.

I know I got the cake box.  I also know we attended the cake auction, because I have a finished sock to prove I was there.  But time seems to have pleated on me (by the way, who reset all these clocks?).  I also, for some reason, have 10 skeins of this gorgeous color called "Cognac Heather".  It has russet, and purple, and green, and gold in it.  And it was SO CHEAP!  And I have this Japanese pattern that I have been dreaming about decoding for two years...

So the next thing I know, it's Monday already.  I have been knitting in Japanese (possibly the most difficult thing I have ever attempted, knitting or otherwise) for longer than is appropriate.  I can tell because:
    A.    There is an uncommonly deep dent in the cushion on my knitting chair, which made ass-extraction more challenging than usual when I went for the dismount.
    B.    No household chores have been accomplished.  And by chores, I mean, child-feeding, dog-walking, or husband-bossing.  The whole pack of them have gone feral.  Or so I assume.  I won't know until I find them all.
    C.    I have actually knitted something.  It seems to be the beginning of a sleeve, but don't quote me.  And it looks strangely similar to the pattern I have been trying to decipher.

I can't put it down.  The stripy vest languishes on the coffee table.  Both Weasley jumpers cower in a corner.  The second sock whimpers for attention, from somewhere in the depths of my purse.  And all I can think about is whether that curlicue thing with the upside-down smiley face could mean "stitches", or "rows".  And look!  I made an Oak Leaf, out of $3.99 string!

There is still some part of my brain that is trying to function.  I know because I can hear it grinding out feeble directives like "Go to the bathroom", "Feed the cat", and "Look for the Children".  But I'm ignoring it, because the pull of the oak leaves and the Japanese squiggles is just too powerful.  And the whole evil digression is not even my fault, because the cub scouts, and the cake, and the box, and the yarn sale all happened in spite of my more noble intentions. 

And that's my story.
 

Shapely

"A curve is the loveliest distance between two points."

- Mae West

This is the vest I dreamt of when I was sick with the flu.  Honest.  It's really a vest.  I'm not sure, but this could be the steek-y-est thing I have ever made.  So far there are 5 steeks, and I'm anticipating at least one more.  Cool, no?  Here's a flat view:

Now you can tell it's a vest, right?  I know.  Me either.  So the stranded part is kind of an Empire-waist deal, above which are some increases for fullness over the bust, and then just garden-variety stripes.  At the armholes, things go a bit wierdy, where I hold off some live stitches (why cast off if you're just going to pick up again right above them?) for armpits, then cast on new steeks, shaping the armhole curves with decreases at their edges.  After a while of that, I did the same stitch-holding maneuver for a neckline, with some more adjacent shaping.  Then last of all, I held off the back neckline the same way, and shaped next to it.  By that time I had to change to DPNs, but I'm pretty sure it will work out the way I hope.  For those who have taken my steeks classes, this is a perfect example of how thinking in terms of CUTTING for shape will change the way you approach knitting the shaping. N'est pas?

All of which returns me to my grounding premise:  We all are sculptors of string.  Think about it: what could be cooler than taking a single string and turning it into fabric?  Nothing, except turning that single string into an actual garment, with real live tailoring that causes it to fit around human body parts.  No mean feat, that. 

So do me a favor, will you?  The next time you find yourself at some coma-inducing social event where non-knitters are passing around their business cards (I think this is the non-canine equivalent of butt-sniffing), tell somebody what you really DO.  And by that, I don't mean highway patrol officer, patent attorney, or neurosurgeon.  I want you to tell the next dumbass who tries to define you by your occupation that you are a Sculptor.  If you have ever turned the heel of a sock, you know I'm right.  You are Sculptors of the highest order, my friends.  And your medium? 

String.