Christmas Knitting and Other Delusions

Yesterday was great:  Thanks were Given, a feast (which I didn't prepare) was eaten, and a swell time was had by all.  I even wore the Violets Vest, to critical acclaim.  But compared to today, all that pales.  Today, my computer MAGICALLY recovered from a big nasty virus.  I had the virus cleaned, and along with it went all my e-mail archives, and every address I've ever had.  I was, shall we say, mildly put out.  I may have thrown certain non-essential pieces of hardware.  Who knew a stapler was so aerodynamic?

But today, beautiful today, I noticed a strange black screen on showing on my laptop when I walked by it, indicating some bizarre rite of self-diagnosis the machine was running.  When it was over ("process 3 of 3 complete"), I rebooted, and all the missing shortcuts on my desktop reappeared.  Just to see, I opened the e-mail program, and behold: Everything I Lost was back.  O brave new world that has such machines in't!  My faithful old pink laptop has somehow cured itself, without benefit even of chicken soup.  I love you, Pinky.  I'll never doubt you again. 

In a fit of renewed optimism, I started more Christmas Knitting for the Smallies:

It's an Animal Cracker Hat based on the one worn by Ron Weasley in the third Harry Potter movie.  I'm using the same yarn as for the monogrammed jumpers.  There's still a month to go before Christmas, so I know my knitting schedule can totally accommodate two more hats.  What could possibly go wrong?  I still have 1/2 a sleeve to do on Lindsay's sweater, and a little more than half the body on Campbell's.  And three socks; 1 more for Lindsay, and 2 for Cam.  I think I might be able to pull it off.  If I can lay off of working on the Oak Leaves, that is (oddly addictive, that one).  And keep up with my secret, unbloggable projects.  You know - my "work" knitting.  Totally reasonable goal.  Totally.  2 sweaters, 2 hats, and 2 pairs of socks.  No big deal. 

I will, naturally, need to eschew any unnecessary recreational activities in the meantime.  It's okay though.  Sleeping is overrated.

My Visit to Japan

Here's my progress on the Japanese oak leaf cardigan.  Knitting this pattern is not unlike playing charades.  I have everything I need to understand it, except words.

I am feeling pretty smug to have finished the first sleeve.  I was halfway up the saddle when I realized this is my first saddle-shoulder sweater.  Good thing I started with an easy one.  Not.

The fascinating thing about this pattern is that I can knit it at all.  The credit for that belongs to its author, rather than my skill.  Believe it or not, every single stitch in the garment is plotted on the chart.  There is only one size (no clue what size that is, by the way-hope it fits somebody I know), and each piece has a schematic drawing with metric measurements. 

I found online the characters are for "stitches" and "rows", which allowed me to decipher the gauge (once I learned that Japanese needle sizes are also different from US and metric ones).  Then I made some swatches, during which I learned that if you don't recognize a symbol in the chart, the chart key is not going to help you one stinking bit.  The tip of each oak leaf involves turning 8 stitches into 3, and crossing some of them over others of them.  That part I had to totally fake.  Trial and error (mostly the latter) eventually yielded a leaf that looked like the one in the photo.  I think.

Other than the wierd-y leaf tips, all the other stuff in the chart worked just like it would in english, only with far more precision.  Which direction should the increase or decrease lean?  It's drawn directionally on the chart.  How many stitches to bind of at either side of the saddle?  Each bound stitch is on the chart.  Crazy, man.  It totally works.  No language needed.  I feel like a musician, just playing the notes without knowing what the song is supposed to sound like. 

Good music, here in Japan.

Gesundheit

You might remember that when I started this vest, I didn't even really want to make it.  I wasn't so much interested in the project as I was compelled.  I just couldn't get the idea of it out of my head. 

And so once I let go the question of whether or not I was going to make the thing, it pretty much leapt, fully formed, out of my head.  Not unlike sneezing.  You know it's coming, and there's not a darn thing to be done about it, except possibly to protect innocent bystanders by adjusting your aim.

My mother always told me and my sisters when we were growing up that we should avoid horizontal stripes because they are unflattering and make you look wide in all the wrong places.  Sorry, Mom, but I think I may have proven that theory wrong.

I love it when people say that stranded colorwork garments are unflattering because they are nothing but straight lines, with no shaping.  To those uninitiated, I offer the Violet Vest: Steek-A-Palooza.

And as for the style, I'd say it's somewhere between Bea-Arthur-As-Maude, and Bohemian Dirndl.  Stripes are not usually the first design element I think of, but I really dig the way they highlight the shaping, by bending around it.  I also love the peasanty bust gathers above the waist detail; very comfortable to wear.  

So now that I have that out of my system, I'll be returning to the Weasley jumpers, the second sock, and possibly some more Japanese oak leaves.  Just gotta locate the tissues first.