knit and tonic

Who To Call When a Bug Flies Into Your Ear

I got a frantic phone call from my sister this afternoon. She said that a bug flew into her ear when she was gardening and didn't know what to do. Her husband is in Cabo San Lucas with friends so she didn't know who to ask.

"Oh. This is a "mom call," I said.

"But it flew in and it was buzzing around and it wouldn't come out. So I got a q-tip and stuck it in there and I must have killed it because there is blood. Now, I can't get it out of there. What should I do?"

After we talked for a few minutes and I hung up, Girlfriend asked me why I said that it was a "mom call."

"You know our mom died before you were born, right? She was your grandma. So, now Dooze is all alone and since I'm her big sister, she will call me if a weird thing like a bug flying into her ear happens. Or, she'll call me to find out if it is okay to use a six-month old frozen turkey. For me, since I don't have a mom anymore, I'll call my friend Wilma to ask a question like that. Or I'll call Betty at the yarn shop."

Or, if it is about money, I call my dad, and if he isn't there, I'll call my big brother."

"So if you are gone and daddy is gone, who am I gonna call?"

Ugh. I hate it that she is alone.

My Life is a Seinfeld Episode

Ever since they asked the guy who'd get that Hawaiian carry-out and circle the cardio area whilst eating it to go home, my gym hasn't been the same. I spotted him another time, like a year or two ago, can't remember exactly where or when, but he lit up my day.

Yesterday, I noticed that the gym has been attracting more interesting types again. Finally. I don't know if this was a managerial decision of some sort, but things have gotten more interesting for sure. As an aside, yesterday, I forgot my iPod--something that would have made me turn around and go home in the recent past--but I could tell that I'd be entertained, nonetheless, given the gal on the elliptical next to me, the gal who literally stopped what she was doing and turned to me and stared.

We looked at each other for a minute and she won the staring contest. Feeling a little uncomfortable, I got my Kindle out, started pedaling and reading. She continued to stare. So, I pulled out my Blackberry and texted HWWV. I wrote: "There's this woman on the elliptical next to me. When she saw me get on the bike next to her, she stopped what she was doing and started to stare. She's still staring at me as I type this."

"Maybe she's a knitter," he texted back.

Then, on the other side of me, a woman started to do these crazy arm swoops while she was pedaling. She nearly hit me upside the head, yet the gal on my right didn't even veer from the course of her staring. After 17 minutes of arm swoops on the left and another attempt to stare the gal on the right down, I gave up and got on the treadmill 20 feet away.

She started doing her elliptical again, but every once in awhile, she'd stop to turn around to see if I was still there, on the treadmill behind her.

And no, I'm not some sort of conspiracy theorist or a Paranoid of some sort.

Confession: I finished about 10 patterns for my next book and I think I'm in a funk. After I finished my other book, I did that, but it was about 20 patterns that caused my funk. At least I know that it will pass. In the meantime, I did find some yarn NewHueHandspuns sent me to try out. There was enough of her bamboo/wool blend sock yarn for me to make a simple triangular neck scarf. Here is a pic of it pre-wash. I have to tell you that this is the most charming yarn. It is handspun and Cheryl hand paints the fiber before she spins it, so it turns out multi-colored within the plies and, oy, I'm just not good at describing yarn, but let me just say that the addition of the bamboo gives it a super nice sheen and I LOVE it. This particular colorway is called "Ancient Roses." I could totally see making a much larger wrap out of this sock yarn. I used size 5 needles and did the old "cast on 5 sts, do some yarnovers on the next row and then on every row, k1, yo, and knit to end. Then I threw in the old "once there are three garter rows stacked together, do the old ' k1, yo, k1, *[yo, k2tog] to the end of the row and if it doesn't line up perfectly, just k1 at the end sort of thing' thing until you run out of yarn."

BTW: My staring story reminds me of something HWWV told me awhile back. He is in sales so he is in his car in the city quite a lot. One day, he came home and said, "I was at a stop sign a couple of days ago. While I was waiting for the light to turn, I looked to my right and there was a guy with a paperbag lunch on his lap, sitting on the bench waiting for the bus. Our eyes met, then the light turned green and off I went. So, today, I was in the city again and stopped at a different light. I looked to my right, and the same guy was sitting there, on a bench. Our eyes met, and next thing I know, a smile breaks out and he's waving at me like we were long lost friends."

Casting On Without a Plan

So, this is what happens when I cast on without a plan. Don't get me wrong, it'll all be okay, but the thing is, I couldn't decide how to finish the yoke so I cast on and worked bottom up thinking that if I just knit and knit and knit, that by the time I got there, I'd have a perfect solution.

Thing is, once I got to the underarms and started shaping them I still didn't have a plan.

And I don't have a plan as I type this, either.

(Originally, I wanted to attach a few vertical ruffles along the center of the yoke, but I fiddled with different ways of doing it, including crocheting them on, but it was too fiddly. If the yoke looks short, it is supposed to. The top has an empire waist-ish thing going on.)

As always, I'm open for ideas. And if you're wondering, the yarn is a dk weight cotton called Katia Bombay and I'll use less than two balls for this top for Girlfriend.

BTW: I have had a great response to my de-stashes. I have more to come. I just need a little time to take some more photos...

Stash Dysmorphic Disorder

That's right; I have it. I have it bad. And it's gonna get better very soon, because any of you who still have Stash Dysmorphic Disorder (I will no longer have it in a matter of weeks), can benefit from a good deal and a whole lotta yarn.

Like past de-stashing ativities, I will pass a discount onto you if I got a discount in the beginning. Postage will be included in the price, unless you live outside the U.S. If you do, I'm cool with it, but we'll have to add a little bit of dough for the shipping. I'll put up a handful of yarn at a time so I can keep up with shipping, etc., and still get some work done.

Full Exposure: All yarn has been exposed to children, animals, wheat, dairy, etc.,  although, if it hasn't been on display it has been kept in plastic bags or stuffed in old luggage where no one would be the wiser.

Sale starts soon.

Just thought I'd give you a heads up.

The Old Days and Knitting for Babies

I was sitting in my LYS today and a certain woman across the table from me whipped out a container from a local food store and announced that she did not like cilantro; she did not like it at all. Lucky I saw that coming from far far away, because, nanoseconds before she cracked that sucker open, I leaped from across the table, over the knitting books and piles of magazines, two random baskets of new yarn and whatnot, and saved my purse and knitting projects from the potential spray of rank pickle juice.

That was close. Seriously. It was really close. I should be more like that woman on Golden Girls and never let my purse out of my sight.

Which reminds me: I took your collective word for it and left my purse in my car today when I went into the gym. I left everything in there except for my keys and a towel (I brought my iPod, too). It was all good and it was even better that my car windows are tinted. Otherwise, I'd worry some random thief would want to break in and take my wallet out, or something.

Overall, I felt a lot more springy, a lot more jaunty, there at the gym. More with it, if you will. Until, at least, I was sitting there doing some bicep curls and a young so and so decided to get on the roman chair in front of me with a weight over her neck and do these crazy extensions with her behind in my face. I sat there like the typical guy in front of a TV with any kind of moving picture. Mouth open, unable to function. I could barely squeek out: "Hey babe, get me a sandwich."

That said, I got a baby pattern book the other day, a Vintage baby pattern book called "Vintage Baby Knits." Kristen Rengren wrote the book and had it sent to me. Looking at it brings me back to the days when I first discovered the Erika Knight book, the one whose title escapes me a the moment, but you know what I mean. This one is sort of like it but it contains actual re-renditions, if you will, of vintage patterns for babies and toddlers. There are a couple in there that I could swear I wore when I was little. My mom never knit a stitch. She never crocheted, either. But, her mom and her mom-in-law did. And I'm sure that they knit for me and my brother. I know this because I can see a radiator in my mind's eye with knitted items on them for drying. I can see it all and wow, Kristen's book really brings me back.

So when I mentioned to the ladies at the LYS that I was smitten with this book, one of them reminded me of my pregnacies while I was at the LYS and how they remembered me making baby items and sitting there at the table. I confess I had forgotten about those times, because those weren't the best of times, but one thing I do remember is the way I felt when looking through the baby pattern books and wanting to knit this and that and dreaming about her first tooth or the day she would ride her bike without training wheels.

The Not-So Dying Breed

I just read something somewhere about blogs and how, with Facebook and Twitter and all that crazy mini-blogging going on, that they'll soon be in the trash bin, the virtual trash bin, as it were, and all us bloggers will be left out in the cold with no readers.

Oh well. Since I never looked at my stats except for when I had to do the last two book proposals I am not too worried. I just like writing the words and sending them out there. I love the comments and knowing you readers (LOVE seeing your names in the comments, etc.), but I will confess that if I didn't have the blog I'd be writing the same old stuff onto the back of paper menus or into those little memo books you can get at the five and dime for a penny less than a dollar.

But before you all go off to Facebook, I have to tell you something: I haven't been to the gym in a week or so, which is a long time for me because I was schooled in the 80's by Jane Fonda who started me up with the thong and hopping all around and then, by Linda Hamilton in the 90's, bless her heart, who turned me into a gym rat. So, lastnight, when I was reading another article, this time about how weight training is really the way to go, I remembered my gym rat roots and realized that the last few years I haven't ventured beyond the cardio area and it was about time, dang it, to hit the weights again.

So today, I dragged myself into the weight area of the gym. Feeling jaunty and nodding to the gal who can do a complete workout on the treadmill without even turning it on (she moved to a nice location near a one-way window), I decided it was going to be upper body today and that it was high time I worked the back "muscles" first. I dropped my bag, my bottle and my hoodie onto the floor and did a few sets.

Then, I picked up my bag, my bottle and my hoodie and headed off to the chest press. Oh, I do love the chest press. A few sets, and then I heard my Blackberry bleep from within my bag, I reached in, found it, and then grabbed my glasses, put them on, and read a message. I replied, took off my glasses, dropped them into the bag pocket, and moved to the shoulder press. But not before I picked up my bag, my hoodie, and my drink. Wouldn't want to forget them.

On and on, I moved from station to station and when I heard my Blackberry ding or needed to apply some lip balm or put my glasses on, I had my bag with me and just stuck my hand in and went on from there.

All of a sudden, it hit me like a wild slap in the face: I have become the woman who I swore I'd never be. The woman at the gym who hoists her crap along with her from place to place, refusing to let it out of her sight.

Peace out. See you on Facebook, Twitter, or horrors of all horrors, in the whirpool at my gym with my bag leaning against the wall.

Never Trust a Photo--And the Power of the Shooter

Ten million to one, I bet you would never know that I have an ailing 72-year old husband's uncle living in my house right now. He's alright, he is, but oh man. All the cooking. All the cleaning. All the making of one-sided conversation with someone who doesn't hear real well.

To boot, last night, he told me that my house was immaculate. I was excited that he said that until I noticed he had his pants on backwards.

And tonight, we took some pics of a new Yogini Bolero I just finished. My husband's uncle took one look at them and declared that the girl in the photos wasn't me.

At least he's honest. I don't recognize myself, either.

This is what happens when your husband is a professional photographer. He makes you look good. And in this case, he made me look a heck of a lot better than I do in real life.

So here is what I really look like:

BTW: I finally decided what to do with that Loop-d-Loop Quartz. I rarely knit something more than once. But as I swatched and swatched and tried to decide what is best for this yarn, I realized that it is perfect to use it for something that I wear often. Not a scarf, a shawl, or a garment that gets used only once in awhile, because this yarn drapes perfectly. And since I actually do wear my Yogini Bolero often, I decided that this yarn should be just that. The metallic that they talk about in the description isn't all that sparkly. It just adds a bit of shine. But, the fabric it makes is sooo nice, I can hardly tell you how nice except to say that if you are in the mood for the best summer yarn, this is it. (Especially if you don't normally like linen or hemp because this is way softer.)

BBTW: When I put these sunglasses on after a couple of years in hiatus, I wondered why everything was so clear. Turns out, they were prescription lenses and I had forgotten about it.

Why Would You Knit Socks When You Can . . ?

I told myself that I wouldn't ever do this (buy see-through shoes), but I did. I could resist those see-through clogs. I could resist those see-through lace-up boots. I could even resist those see-through jelly sandals that you wouldn't normally wear socks with. I could resist them because I used to have some and they make your feet sweat and make squishy sounds when you walk.

But today I saw these and next thing I knew I was asking the girl for a Ladie's size eight and tried them on. Not bad, not bad at all, I thought as I walked up and down the aisle in the shoe store. Then, to the girl, I said, "You know what? I wonder if they make these see-through Chuck Taylor's so the knitters can show off their hand-knit socks. I know a lot of knitters who wear these type shoes so they can enjoy their handy work."

"Oh, so you knit?" She asked.

"Yes, I do!" I replied.

And, without skipping a beat, she reached over and pulled a packet of colorful socks off the wall. "You can get five pair of these for only six bucks with a purchase of those see-through shoes. You want some?"

I shot back: "Why would I want to buy those colorful socks when I can knit them myself?"

She blinked.

I blinked.

She blinked again.

"So would you rather buy some white socks? We have two styles and they're Buy Two Get One Free. . ."

BTW: After a three-day run of writer's/knitter's block I have decided that I will not do any "work" knitting or writing over the weekend. Instead, I shall make some socks for my new shoes. I can't believe how long I have gone without finishing a pair of socks! I'll use this Claudia Hand Painted in Blue Ridge from Kpixie.com (just noticed it's on sale, by the way).

Also, here's a reminder that if you're in the Los Angeles area on June 6, I'll be at the Knit Culture/Knitter's Studio from 2-5 p.m for a book signing. Stop in and say hi!

ETA: Here is where you can check for availability at a particular store. I tried Zappos, but no luck. So looky here.

Ease: The Rant Continues

That was interesting. All the discussion about swatching. Funny, I get oodles of comments from people who swear by swatching, or a few comments from people who admit that they don't swatch but say when their sweaters don't fit they understand that they varied from the gauge. Yet, on a particular forum there must be several hundred knitters cheerfully shouting that they never do a gauge swatch.

Not that this particular slice of the knitting community really represents the average sweater knitter, that's for sure, but come on! Don't brag about it!

Which brings me to the Subject of Ease.

I'm no expert, shoot, I've only been knitting for about six years, but the people who sew garments out of cloth probably have way more to say about the subject of ease than I do. Knits are meant to stretch, so when we discuss ease, or at least to my mind, we are talking about "fit," or "drape," and not necessarily the amount of extra space one would need in order to lift their arms or squat without splitting a seam or something.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. This is just a blog post.

What I want to say about ease and to answer many requests from knitters who want me to list ease on my patterns, like the model's size and the amount of ease that is shown on the garment the model is wearing is, sorry. No can do. At least not in the way you want me to. Because, if I did, next thing I know, the doorbell would ring and 16,000 knitters would be out there, waving lit torches at me and threatening to take Girlfriend away to a commune or worse, a particular yarn store I know that has every single skein of yarn sealed in plastic bags.

The only possible way to produce such a measurement or whatever you call it, would be to design and knit for a particular person. A particular person who meets the exact criteria of, say, some set of guidelines (like a "Yarn Council," for example) and who has the exact measurements of a size "medium," and that means she must also have a set of arms with an exact Standard measurement, a back waist measurement that is exactly "to code," and all the other nonsense that goes along with it. Then, you'd have to measure the amount of ease you want for each part of the garment, the bust, which is obvious, and then know that because this particular "perfect-to Blah Blah Yarn Council Standards" model will represent the tunic as a tunic length because a tunic length is exactly 6 or more inches longer than her back waist measurement.

But it gets even worse: When one writes a book, she does not know who the models will be. She does not know their sizes. She does not know if they are exact replicas of, say, size "medium" on the Blah Blah Yarn Council Standard sizes in every way imaginable. (Remember: We designers are strongly encouraged to design to Yarn Standard Council "code.")

So when it comes time to shoot the pics for a book, we have to try to represent the sweaters as they are meant to fit. That means sometimes one needs to pin something together here or there. BUT, a good stylist (and having the designer on set helps) will be sure not to create shaping where there is none, i.e., a boxy sweater that suddenly becomes a spray-painted-on spandex suit.

This is what I say about ease: Look at the schematic. That is your only clue that will not mislead you. Know your measurements. Know how you like things to fit. I can agree that a designer can suggest a certain amount of negative or positive ease; that might help. But to say that the model is a certain size and that the sweater is a certain size and that there is negative ease here but positive ease there would create even worse confusion.

If I told you how many emails I have received with questions about bra-band sizing and how they relate to the size of the sweater you'd be astounded. I do not design bras. I can only wonder what would happen if I start saying: "Model in picture has a 36-inch bust and 28-inch waist. Her lovely hips are a waif-like 34. This pattern is knit with 1-inch negative ease in the bust, none in the waist, and negative 2 inches in the hips! Happy Knitting!"

You cannot tell how a sweater will fit you based on a picture, even with explicit ease measurements. No way.

Imagine if you have an apple-shaped body and have a chest circumference of 40 inches, AND 2 inches negative ease in the chest area is suggested. Unless you pay careful attention, you'll end up with a lovely fitted sweater on the top half of your body. Your bottom half, well, let's just say that you'll be able to see the outlines of your belly button. For what it's worth, the Yarn Council Standards say that a person with a size 40 chest has 32 - 34-inch waist and 42 - 44-inch hips. Those of you who have a 40-inch chest, I dare you to go measure your waist and your hips. I will put money on it that many of you will not be to "Standard."

I wonder if it would be helpful to create some sort of "cheat sheet" for knitters. You know, the kind where you plug in your measurements, the amount of looseness you want here or there and then the measurements from a schematic to see where you will need to customize. Hmmmm.

What we did this weekend:

If You Want it to Fit . . .

Whenever someone asks my favorite LYS person the probably-most-often-asked question in the knitting world, other than "Can I substitute this yarn for that yarn?" or "Why do people knit socks? You can buy them at Target for cheaper..."

She replies, without looking up, "If you want your sweater to fit, yes, you need to knit a swatch."

Most people grumble when she answers that question that way, but I tell you what, I have seen more sweaters that don't fit than ones that do.

So, the other day, when I received an email from someone asking for me to suggest what size of one of my sweaters to make (without telling me what her measurements are, mind you) and mentioning, in the process, that other people had made this particular sweater and it didn't fit them so even though she really, really loves what I do, and my book and all the other stuff, that I needed to give her an idea of what size to knit and some tips because she didn't want to end up with a sweater that didn't fit.

If I weren't so damn polite, I wouldn't have answered the email because honestly, hasn't anyone ever considered looking at a schematic, take note of their own measurements with an understanding of how they like things to fit and knit the sweater to gauge....So it fits?

I pay good money for someone to make me those nifty schematics. Sure, I could, like in the old days, just draw one and scan it and make an image out of it, but no, I pay someone good money to make me a very technically savvy schematic. Plus, the measurements on the schematic aren't willy nilly numbers I just throw out there. The numbers on the schematic correlate almost exactly to the gauge in terms of stitches and rows. That's right. Almost exactly.

I say almost exactly because you wouldn't want to know if the circumference of the sleeve at its largest point is, oh, 13.352" around. That is why you sometimes see 13.25" or 13.5" instead.

And I don't mean to rant. I really don't mean to. But I wrote an entire book about understanding your size, figuring out how to customize a written pattern so that it fits your body the way you want it to, and what do I get? A hundred emails (well, not a hundred, but I get tons) asking: "What size should I knit?"

And most times, the person doesn't mention if they are subbing yarn (that's a BIG reason why things don't work out). They usually don't mention their size, either. Worse, do you know how many people have written: "I'm pretty much the same size as you, so..." How do you know what size I am? All you've seen are pictures of me. Heavily edited photos! So much so, you probably wouldn't recognize me in person! You don't know what size I am! For all you know, I've been borrowing someone else's face and body all these years! I could live in Russia for all you know. Or Greece. Or, somewhere in Wisconsin. You. Have. No. Idea.

Okay. Sorry. Didn't mean to go off on you.

But please read the schematics and make a gauge swatch. And if you don't, would you mind letting me know? Maybe I can skip the schematics and save a few bucks.

BTW: Seeing there are balls all over the joint, you now know how I spent my weekend. If you look very closely you'll see a tiny portion of a frequently quoted LYS character in the background. Enjoy...The balls, not the nude, which I can explain.

Only in Southern California

Well, I suppose it could happen anywhere, but somehow I get in the middle of odd situations and today was no exception.

I visited the male model who impersonates my hip doctor today. He's not particularly punctual, so when I entered the office I wasn't surprised to discover a sea of people on crutches, in casts, some sitting in funny chairs and others in chairs on wheels look up at me forlornly, their dead looks in their eyes telling me it's going to be a loooooooong morning.

Once the crowd began to thin, in walks a tall woman with her mother. There was something vaguely familiar about her, but I couldn't put my finger on it. She refused to sit down, instead insisting her invalid-ish mother stand with her by the counter until they got a room. The fact that I knew I was next on the list gave me a start because the last thing I wanted was to have this crazed woman and her poor mother get put in front of me and have to wait even longer.

But then I realized who she was, and although the gal must be a good 20-something years older than me, the fact that probably just about every living man in the western world has had a fantasy or two about this woman at some point in their lives made it a forgone conclusion that I was doomed. Doomed! And not because the receptionist was too nice to turn her away and tell her to wait her turn, but because the assistant, the assistant who is actually a male model impersonating a physician's assistant walked into the waiting room, spotted her, and forgot that it was MY file that he had in his hands, and swooped her and her mom out of the room with a flourish.

Never mind I had waited an hour.

Never mind, my hair was brushed and clean. Her's? Don't ask.

Never mind, although I'm sort of plain compared to her in her heyday, I can tell a really good joke and make a decent meal. Not to mention the knitting.

About a half-hour later, I was let into the room next to them. Listen friends, if I had a water glass available I would have stuck it on the wall to hear what was going on, but based on what I could hear with the naked ear, the glass was not needed. She's a nut, plain and simple, (her poor ailing mom couldn't get a word in edgewise), and if it weren't for what I discovered while waiting in the room next to them, I would still be angry right now. Talk about a vast and never ending source of wonder and entertainment. I was almost disappointed when the doctor finally walked into my room.

But onto other things.

HWWV bought me an underwater gadget so I can listen to my iPod while swimming last Christmas. I haven't been able to use it because my hip just hasn't been up to doing laps, but this past weekend I finally got to try it out. It was heaven.

If only they'd figure out how we can knit in the bathtub or while swimming or running or...

Then, we'd be set.

(Except for those washed up so-and-so's cutting in front of the line.)

BTW: A few of you who read this may know who I am talking about. Please do not mention her name in comments!

ETA: Here is a link to the waterproof MP3 players...