The More Things Change

Remember 2010? Me either. Research on my blog reveals that I made two Weasley Sweaters for my children that year, and they were well-loved:

In 2010, Lindsay was 11, which is the perfect age for a Weasley Sweater. The Huff Weasleys were worn, and loved, and outgrown, which is the natural order of things. They're now in a box out in the garage, awaiting the day when I can bear to let them go to some great reward.

But leap forward a mere seven years, and Lindsay is on the brink of her 18th birthday. I know. I didn't authorize it, but it turns out that my children are getting older, rather than just bigger. Unbelievably, last month, Lindsay asked me for a new Weasley sweater. 

My children are now at ages where if they actually ask me for knitting, I pretty much lose my mind. It's been so long since I saw them wear and enjoy my knitting that I've just about given up on them as worthy recipients. But Lindsay can always surprise and amaze me. She's getting ready to leave home for college next year. She drives. All by herself. She can knit and spin really well. She has a steady boyfriend. Does all the very grownup things a nearly-eighteen year old should. But she wants a new Weasley sweater. Says she was too young to appreciate her old one when she had it.

She didn't have to ask me twice:

The new Weasley has an actual Intarsia initial, and was worked from the top-down, to Lindsay's exact specifications. Unbelievably, I realized that I have never worked intarsia in the round before. I didn't love doing it, but it did allow me to place the monogram with surgical precision.

While I was at it, I worked a top-down set-in sleeve. Thanks, JC Briar! CLICK HERE for her class. This one isn't a full-on set in; it's more of a hybrid "peasant": not quite as fitted as a set-in, but more tailored than a drop-shoulder. The fit is gorgeous: relaxed, but not sloppy or droopy. And there's none of that bulky fabric under the armpits that comes with a drop shoulder.

I just picked up around the armhole, the number of stitches that would comfortably fit into it (about 3 out of 4), then worked 5-stitch short rows from the cap all the way to the armpit. So easy, and so pretty! You should definitely try this on your next relaxed-sleeve project.

I also added 4-stitch increases to the body every 20 rows. It's actually an A-line, but doesn't look like one when worn. Instead, it just accommodates Lindsay's grownup figure more perfectly than a straight body tube would.

The yarn is Patons Classic in Chestnut Tweed. You can get it pretty much anywhere, and almost always on sale. For the monogram I used Knit Picks Wool of the Andes Tweed in Brass Heather. 

My sister and her kids visited last weekend. These four cousins have always been thick as thieves, so I should not have been surprised when Sarah and Adam (aged 20 and 17) requested Weasleys of their own. Campbell, naturally, added his name to the list, too. So now it looks like I'll be up to my eyes in Weasleys for a awhile if I'm to satisfy the demand.

The only real question is: How could I say no? They're only little for such a short time, after all.

How To Tell if You Are a Knitter

Last night we had a pretty formidable ice storm. After surveying the wonderland from the safety of my bedroom window, I leapt into action and dressed for the day. I settled on my favorite destroyed jeans, a t-shirt, and a Pendleton wool shirt that makes me feel like Johnny Cash. Here I am, ready for a day of pattern-writing:

Notice anything unusual about my Johnny Cash wool shirt?

How about now:

Yep. Those are stitch markers. I hooked them through the buttonhole on my shirt last time I had it on (who remembers?) to avoid losing them.

And then forgot all about them until today.

Knitting has become part of my body. An integral part of my everyday goings on. To the degree that I (and those around me) don't even notice. Three people and a dog saw me this morning before the first photo, and not one commented on the stitch markers. Okay, I'm letting the dog off because he might have tried to tell me.

And this is by no means new. I once had a hair stylist nimbly remove a cable needle from behind my ear. I'm forever stabbing myself on errant DPNs in the depths of my handbag. And don't get me started on the stitch markers. They are found in every conceivable crevice.

Yep, Knitting, I belong to you. Whether you want me or not, I'm yours. I've been assimilated. I hope it works out the way we both want.

New Year, New Pirate

You know how it goes: I finished the Dread Pirate Jeffery hat, plopped it on my head just long enough to take a terrible selfie to show you, and gave the hat away.

And THEN tried to write the pattern. Yeah.

Fortunately, my dumb can be used for your smart. I made another hat, and photographed it properly (on someone ELSE's head) which you now can see much better:

This pirate is actually Dread Pirate Jeffery's bother, the Dread Pirate Phillip. He's an easily accessible model, and my dog really likes him. Bailey always notices the minute I grab my camera, and hurries to get into the shot:

NOTE: Bailey would like you to know that yes, he is an actual Scottish Terrier, even if he doesn't look much like it at present. Bailey was lately the unwitting victim of an inexperienced dog groomer (not me!). I frequently reassure him that his beard and dust ruffles will grow back. In the meantime, we are telling him he looks athletic. And sometimes I make him wear coats.

Since Boxing Day, I knitted the (second) hat, wrote the pattern (includes detailed instructions for knitting Latvian Braid and notes on sizing), formatted the chart and graphics and shot the photos. Then I realized that I now have enough work in this pattern that you probably won't mind if I charge a little something for downloads. Inside you'll see credits and links to the original motif chart, too. CLICK HERE for the complete pattern.

I hope you enjoy this one, and please do share photos.