Time For Six More: Let's Go!

Greetings, Gentle Readers!  It's quiet out there. Yeah, too quiet. Must be time for a contest!  The lovely and talented Cap Sease has kindly donated a copy of her OUTSTANDING book as the prize:

As knitting reference books go, this one is about as sexy as it gets.  If you can't find it in here, you probably don't need it.  And remember:  Since you have to swatch anyway, pick a new cast on and bind off to try each time and get smarter without really working hard.

Here's how we'll do it:

Enter the contest by posting a comment of exactly SIX WORDS, which tell your casting on and binding off story.  Happy, sad, funny, thrilling: Let's hear them all!  Next Friday, March 29th, 2013, I'll announce the winner, chosen by Phillip, who has to do all the hard non-knitting jobs.

For inspiration on writing your six-word story, visit HERE.

Love you Gentle Readers, truly do.

The Drawing Board (Back To)

My new publisher would like to see drawings of my design ideas before giving the collection a final OK.  This is very sensible, in my opinion, since drawing a knitted garment takes far less time than knitting one.  It just makes good sense to be sure that the publisher and I agree on the direction the collection should take, before the knitting commences.

Which is why I can't believe I've never been asked to provide sketches before.  That's right:  In two whole books of knitting, amounting to more than 50 projects, nobody has asked to see a preview of the projects I was designing.  They actually took it on faith that I would make up a collection that was cohesive in palette, varied in skill level, diplomatic in yarn choices, and illustrative of technique.  Looking back, I'm floored by the trust my previous editors have placed in me.

But this time, I'm drawing.  And by drawing, I mean, using pencils and paper at a prodigious rate to make pictures I hope will represent knitting.  Which, it turns out, is not at all easy.  I have never been to art class.  I had to have a friend give me a crash course in art supplies at the store.  And I am so happy that I only have to make hats for this project, because I'm pretty sure that trying to draw real fashion illustrations would kill me.  But it's going fairly well, all that considered.  And I'm kind of enjoying the fact that I can really see the whole collection emerging, rather than only imagining it.

On the down side, although the book calls for 20 hats, I have only culled my idea pile down to 36. (or maybe 37 - I just had a really cool thought).  So that means that I'll have to draw them all and let the publisher choose.  And that's assuming that my ideas are anything like what they had in mind for the book.  It could be that I'm drawing apples and they want oranges, in which case more drawings will need to be done.  I'm submitting the collection on Friday for review, and after that I'll know more.  Until then I'm drawing.  And Erasing.  The level of eraser dust and pencil sharpenings is such that I actually have to vacuum the table off between pictures. 

I'll share one neat thing I've discovered, should you ever find yourself needing to represent your knitting on paper:  Non-white drawing paper.  I got some in gray and some in tan, and both are great for really showing up colors - particularly white and black.  I also am deeply in love with woodless colored pencils.  They are so much more versatile than the wooden ones.  Who knew?  Artists, I suppose.  Not that we aren't artists, too, Gentle Readers.  It's just that our preferred medium is String.


 

I'm Sure I Can Make It Stretch

There is something about the violet yarn that makes me lie to myself.  I think I may be in a destructive relationship with my knitting.  I keep telling myself that I can make it work if I'll just change.  Change my pattern, change my needles, change my rate of decrease.  I will make a sweater, damn it, I just have to try harder.  It's totally me, not the yarn.  It's certainly not the fact that there isn't enough yarn.  Nope.  That's not it.  I haven't struggled along this far, only to run out at the bitter end.  The Knitting Gods are benevolent and kind.  They would never betray my fealty that way.

I made the circular yoke cardigan from the bottom up, in spite of knowing that top-down would be better for a person whose yarn supply is dubious.  When I got to the armpits, I attached sleeves that were only about 1" long, with provisional castons.  Then I finished the upper part of the sweater, and all the placket business.  The yarn that was left (the better part of one skein) I weighed and divided in half.  Then I took out the provisional CO and worked the first sleeve about as long as I dared to, but here's the sick and twisted part:  I absolutely must match the lower edge treatment at the cuff.  But the lower edge is a lacy scallop which is made from the bottom up, and the sleeve, as established, is being worked from the top down. 

Without breaking the working yarn from the sleeve edge, I laid the whole thing aside and pulled the opposite end of the yarn out of the center of the ball.  Then I worked a cuff edge from the bottom up with it, knowing that if I ran short of cuff yarn, I could always unravel some of the sleeve at the other end of the strand.  Which, miraculously, I did not have to do.  I had exactly enough to make the cuff and graft it to the lower edge of the sleeve.  Although I will tell you that I had to kitchener that B@#^$tard on three times to get the graft right.  Did I mention this is all in the round, on DPNs?  Yep.  I grafted 2 pieces of circular knitting together, which amounted to 6 DPNs.  Three Times.

It worked perfectly.  Except that, as predicted, I didn't have enough yarn to make a full-length sleeve.  I have perfect 3/4 sleeve.  And I hate 3/4 sleeves.  This may not be my healthiest knitting relationship.  The sweater and I may have to go for counseling, but I'm sure I can change if it will just give me one more chance.