Knitting FO: Bed Socks

In perusing the last few posts, I realized that I never showed you guys the amazing socks I made for myself (and I have to break up the sewing content somehow!). When I heard Clara Parkes talk about socks at Verb (many moons ago) I had recently listened to Brenda Dayne talk about pajama socks. We were able to touch all the samples from the Knitter's Book of Socks at Clara's talk, and I knew that the Strago pattern by Jared Flood would make excellent pajama socks.

My husband and I are both of the same mind when it comes to sleeping: it should be warm enough that you can actually fall asleep, but not so hot that you don't need a blanket or two. We'd both rather be a little too cold than a little too warm. Because I tend to run a little cooler than he does, that usually means that what's comfortable for me is a bit too warm for him.  Also, my feet just get cold if they're not covered.  The Strago socks are perfect bed socks because they're loose-fitting enough that you can slip them off by gently sliding your feet around while half-asleep.



One of the main things I was worried about was choosing two colors that were too similar in value for the pattern to show up well, so I tried to get shades on opposite ends of the color wheel.  The two colors of Shelter I chose (Hayloft and Faded Quilt) match my owl pajama pants perfectly.

The only change I made to the pattern was to knit the entire sock on 4 mm (US 6) needles, because I have pretty narrow feet and was worried about the socks staying on my feet as I pad around the apartment in them.  The woolen-spun Shelter yarn happily accepted my tighter gauge, and the fabric feels like soft cushy felt underneath my feet.  We've been getting a few sunny days here and there, but we'll get lots of June gloom as well, so these will probably continue to get lots of use even during the summer months.  

How I Spent My Blogging Vacation

Anyone else ever have to write those incredibly boring essays on the first day of school, "How I Spent My Summer Vacation"?  They always seemed so torturous. First, it was a not-so-subtle reminder of all the fun you'd been having before school started up again.  Second, you had to sit there and listen to your classmates tell you about all the fun they'd been having at horseback riding camp or in Hawaii or something else that was equal parts unexpected and way cooler than anything you did that summer. The message seemed to be "Tell the rest of the class how uncool you are and by the way, you won't be having any more fun like that until the end of December."

My summer vacations were fun, but not in the way that was traditionally considered "fun" in the very American consumerist sense: we didn't take any long trips to glamorous locations or go on expensive excursions.  There was a lot of camping, and as I got older, lots of babysitting my younger siblings.  As a kid I never felt I could brag about my vacations, but now that I'm older I know better.  My childhood vacations were the best kind: they involved lots of unstructured play time among us kids, lots of physical activity (hiking, swimming in various lakes and rivers, running around on the beach), and just wandering about learning about nature in park ranger centers or mukking around in tide pools.  Plus, I now have a healthier appreciation for my long-suffering parents who managed to pull off seven days of camping with three kids between 8 and 13 years old.  Most importantly, I had plenty of time during my summer vacations to read books quietly.  My absolute favorite pastime was reading, and I've had my own library card for as long as I can remember.  Even though my summer vacation essays weren't the most riveting pieces of nonfiction prose ever penned, the vacations themselves were magically both enriching and relaxing at the same time, in sharp contrast to my recent blogging vacation. 

I didn't intend to have a blogging vacation this semester, it just worked out that way.  This term I had a glut of "happy problems": I was offered more classes than I've seen since before the 2009 budget cuts, and decided that on top of a full teaching load I should totally sign on for a side project as well.  I know I'm lucky to be an educator with an overabundance of work opportunities (especially in this state), but it was hard not to complain and get crabby about my job when I was skipping my regular knit night because I was too exhausted from all the grading.  I've learned my lesson: you have to say no sometimes, even if they're offering to pay you, if the commitment will infringe on your mental downtime. This lesson is one I intend to apply as quickly as possible, too.  After a few years of being forced to take lots of personal-enrichment time through a lack of work, I've forgotten that I might need to forcibly protect some of that time when the pendulum swings back in the other direction. 

So I'm planning some structure into my creative time, to make sure I maintain that balance a little better.  I want to be able to rotate between knitting, spinning, and sewing projects on the blog to keep things lively and exciting for everybody.  Just because I'm on a sewing kick doesn't mean that I want my knitting readers to have another three-month-long dry spell!  I also want to try and have one blog post more than 50% written at any time, and another in the planning stages so that I always have something that can be quickly finished and edited in a pinch.  This should be easier over the summer, since I have a (small) backlog of projects from March and April and I'm only teaching two days a week.  The real challenge will be keeping up with the writing pipeline during the semester. 

To get things going, what do you like best about vacation?  Have a favorite memory from your childhood vacations?  Share in the comments!  

Neglect, and another quilt

I know the blog has been quite neglected lately. The only thing I can claim is the usual busy nature of the holidays and the beginning of a new term. I'm teaching 6 courses this time, more than I ever have in the past.

Before classes started, I did manage to finish something. It's been marinating in the must-write-this-up part of my brain since the beginning of January.



The quilt was a birthday/graduation gift for my sister. Most of the prints are from Heather Ross's Mendocino collection, and I got them specifically with her in mind: my sister's favorite place is the ocean, and her favorite color is orange. One of the prints is called "Underwater Sisters" (it's the one at the top and bottom of the stack below), and as soon as I read that name in an Etsy listing I knew this quilt would be for my underwater sister.



I started planning this quilt back in the summer, but I was collecting the fat quarters even before I finished my very first quilt. I waited a long time for inspiration, until I found this lovely quilt on Etsy and knew I wanted to recreate that effect.



I used 5 inch x 10 inch rectangles cut from 18 different fat quarters, and arranged them in a color progression from light to dark to piece the strips. I actually waited until I'd pieced some of the strips before selecting fabric for the border and background, because I wanted to be able to easily compare all the prints at once.



I had half yards of two of the prints, so after cutting out my rectangles I used the leftovers to make an interesting strip across the back. I think I used 2 yards of solid orange for the borders, and 5 1/2 yards or so for the backing. The backing fabric is a coordinating light teal with white polka dots from City Weekend by Moda for Oliver + S. I chose it because the teal matches some of the octopi and seahorses.



The binding was another Mendocino print. I managed to score a yard and a half of that one, and I knew that I wanted to use it to bind the quilt. While I was sewing the binding, I would track my progress by how many seahorses I'd passed that day.



I machine-quilted this one in straight vertical lines, echoing the lines of the piecing. Of course, my assistant tested the quilt for warmth and snuggliness.



I'm quite proud of this quilt, having made it without a written pattern to work from. So many times I double- and triple-checked my math, making sure I'd bought enough fabric to make the borders and backing. After giving it a wash, we spread it out on the bed for its photo shoot before shipping it off to the east coast.



Finishing something handmade and giving it away builds such a wonderful connection, and I've found it to be as true with sewing and quilting as it is with spinning and knitting. I love picturing this quilt in my sister's apartment, spread over her bed or rumpled up on her couch. While sewing it, I thought about all those times we went to the beach as kids, and about watching The Little Mermaid over and over and over until our VHS tape wore out. I thought about how much she loves swimming, no matter what body of water it is, and how the Monterey Bay Aquarium is one of her favorite places. I hope this quilt keeps her warm, and reminds her that even though there's a lot of land in between us right now, we both live close to the ocean. Whether it's the Atlantic or the Pacific, it still connects us and reminds us each of the other, just like the quilt does. Sweet dreams, Becky.

Holiday Problems and Solutions

Problem: Need to discourage the cat from getting too fresh with the Christmas tree.



Solution: Discover "Cat Entertainment" videos on YouTube. Here Bucky is watching a 9-minute video of birds and squirrels for the third time in a row. He's about as bad as my little sister at the age of seven and Disney's The Little Mermaid. Bonus: For the first time in nearly two years, I am able to spin on my spinning wheel uninterrupted for more than 45 seconds.



Problem: The thought of all the social activities of the season, and the end-of-the-year responsibilities of our jobs is causing the spouse and I to break out into hives.





Solution: Take three days off right before Thanksgiving to drive to Santa Barbara and go hiking and wine tasting. I didn't question his need to take so many photographs of rocks, and he didn't question my need to visit this one particular yarn shop for this one particular yarn.



No, this isn't all that I bought.

Problem: I decide that all my gift knitting is boring. Too many hats and all.

Solution #1: I cast on for a shawl. Yes, it's for me. No, I don't think it's selfish. What?



I then realize that I still have deadlines on many of those holiday gifts, and come up with Solution #2: Decide that maybe I should knit something besides hats for gifts. Wait, isn't there a handy scarf-in-progress? Yeah, let's knit that instead.



I realize that scarves are still pretty boring, and move on to mittens.



Still bored. Think some more, and come up with Solution #3: I decide that maybe I could sew some gifts instead of knitting them. Yes, this will save time! Resolve to go purchase fabric for said sewing projects.



Realize that spending money on supplies for future handmade gifts is dangerous, as it leads to spending money.



Problem: I don't have enough time to finish all my holiday gift knits.

Solution: Clearly, now is the time to photograph stash and projects, edit and upload photos, update Ravelry, and write a new blog post. Happy procrastination season, everybody!

More Adventures at Verb

Even though I'd successfully finished Angostura, when I saw that Ysolda was returning to the Bay Area to teach a class specifically about her book, I couldn't resist. In fact, I sorta talked two of my knitting friends into taking the class as well (although unfortunately we took it at different times).



The rest of the store was packed, because it was also the one-year anniversary of Verb's grand opening. Graceful tall white curtains separated us from most of the madness. I'd brought a bunch of different size needles and a tape measure (just in case), along with my copy of Little Red in the City. I found my seat and set up my stuff.



The class was mostly about information in the "introductory" portion of the book, and although I'd read through some of it, having a class was definitely helpful! Being able to ask for clarification about what was written in the book, hearing from the author herself about the most important parts (and having her tell you what the most important parts were!), and taking notes the whole time really solidified the information in my brain. I'm also very grateful to have the condensed-version handout that Ysolda made for us.

I'll admit to being a bit of a keener. When Ysolda asked for a volunteer, I immediately raised my hand Hermoine Granger-fashion, before I even knew what she wanted us to volunteer for. Turns out she wanted to do a measuring demonstration about how some of us ladies are a little *ahem* more 3-dimensional in the front than in the back.

I also got a good mental kick in the pants, because I did this thing that my own students do all the time which really bugs me. I haven't really done successful short-row shaping for the bust of a fitted sweater, and I wanted to know the best way to perform the wrap-and-turn. Ysolda gently pointed out that the book outlined three different methods that all effectively produce the same result, with very explicit tutorial-style instructions. Guess I should have read the book a little more carefully before asking my question! I wasn't put off at all, and now I think I need to just knit a wrap-and-turn swatch to get the hang of it. Overall, the class was very good and it was (in my opinion) dead cheap. I would have paid more for this class, and I would have really shelled out for a full-day workshop where we could measure ourselves and actually swatch. I left the class with new sweaters dancing in my head, but also with the knowledge that the holidays were right around the corner.

The only thing that could possibly have distracted me from crazily attempting to knit a sweater while simultaneously embarking on holiday gift knitting is this:



My new sewing machine.

I bought more fabric than yarn during the anniversary sale after the class was over. More adventures to come.

Season of Change

It's the time of year when I start thinking about gift knitting. And sweaters. And warm woolly socks and scarves. The peak of the semester has passed, the holiday season is well underway, the mornings are chilly and we've put the clocks back on standard time.

Midterms are over, which means I have time to get back to knitting. After finishing Angostura, I remembered how much I like having just one knitting project on the needles at any time. But I wanted something quick, so I knit four hats. One-two-three-four, just like that. No photos yet, as they'll all likely end up as gifts. I was intent on finishing these hats, to quickly use up some stash and feel like I was making progress towards the gift list. Before I knew it, my favorite yarn/fabric/fiber store was celebrating their one-year anniversary. I was going to see and hear Clara Parkes, and I had nothing on the needles. I thought about casting on a sock (as would be appropriate), but I had no time. So a scarf it was.



That turned out to be a good idea, because it was packed at Verb and it was nice to not have a fiddly chart. The yarn was wonderfully soothing (and has continued to be so over this very busy week). It's two different skeins of handspun, one from the ancient depths of the stash and one from last year. The pattern is the good old Noro striped scarf. It was very low-distraction knitting, which I was grateful for during Clara's talk.



As I sit here writing this, I have to marvel that I've never blogged about Clara before. She's one of those people whose work you read, and it feels like you're chatting with a very smart, very old friend (old in the sense that you've known each other for a long time). I bought her first two books, The Knitter's Book of Yarn and The Knitter's Book of Wool during my first forays into spinning and fleece acquisition, respectively. I wanted to know how to construct my yarn so it would behave the way I wanted it to. The yarn book taught me a great deal about cellulose fibers, ply, twist, and density. The wool book sits on my shelf next to Beautiful Sheep, where the two books together provide endless entertainment as I imagine turning animal fluff into warm, cozy sweaters on these crisp evenings.

But the whole reason I learned how to spin was so that I could make my own sock yarn. Handspun socks. I've knit three pairs of socks out of handspun yarn, and I'd call one of them a definite success. The first pair of socks I knit out of handspun were for the husbeast. There, the problem was mostly that I wasn't very good at spinning fine yarn yet. They're more like felted slippers (very tight felted slippers) than socks, and they mostly get worn when it's very cold or on camping trips. The pattern was inspired by the basic sock in Cat Bordhi's first sock book, but with adjustments for gauge differences and a fancy cable running up the side. They're in the shape of socks, and they haven't gotten any holes yet, but they're not really comfortable for everyday wear.

The second pair that I made are awesome by accident. I was trying to get better at spinning yarn for socks, and I came across this amazing rainbow progression-dyed BFL fiber. I'd heard somewhere that BFL (which stands for Blue Faced Leicester, a breed of sheep) is good for socks. Now that I'm reflecting, I probably read it in the Knitter's Book of Wool. I had more than 8 ounces of fiber, and I knew I wanted rainbow socks. I figured out that the best way to do this would be to split the fiber into two long strips and chain-ply the yarn (chain plying is essentially doing a crochet chain where the loops are about as long as you can hold your arms while spinning and tensioning the singles). These socks came out great, the rainbow effect was lovely, but they're still a wee bit on the thick side.

Ironically, the most recent pair of handknit socks I've made are also the ones that have the most holes. Like two each. My handspun was probably not up to the task of being gently scrubbed between my foot and shoe for 8 hours a week. The fiber was super-soft, superwash merino. I'm about 20 pages into the Knitter's Book of Socks, and I now know that I should've spun this with socks in mind to begin with, or knit them at a tighter gauge.



Hearing Clara talk about her journey into the land of writing about knitting, what she loves about socks, the surprises she had while writing this most recent book, and her favorite breed of sheep and how she'd spin the wool for socks was a fantastic treat. Plus, we got to see the samples of all the socks from the book (Hello there, Shelter! I feel like we keep bumping into each other at these parties. Maybe we should get a cup of coffee soon, just the two of us... *wink wink, nudge nudge*).



At the end of the event, I was excited about socks in a way that I haven't been since 2007, when I signed up for the Blue Moon Fiber Arts Rockin' Sock Club. I'm excited about the science of socks, and the knitting of socks, and the wearing of socks. It's perfect project material for autumn. As soon as I finish the scarf.

Where did October go?

Goodness gracious. It's been awhile since I blogged, and I am DEFINITELY properly ashamed. Hopefully, I'll be able to distract you with photos of the latest knitting FO.

Introducing Angostura:



I adore it. It's the first knitted vest I've made, and Ysolda's instructions didn't lead me wrong. I wore it to work on an evaluation day, because I wanted to look smart and professional and feel confident.



The cable at the small of my back is still utterly charming.



It's not quite cold enough to wear it with a long-sleeved shirt, but we've had a couple of nippy mornings over the past two weeks (along with some very sunny afternoons). I'm betting this will see a lot more action as the weather continues to cool down.

The best part about this vest is that it's made from swap yarn (Cascade 220 Heathers, for those who are interested). I used a little more than 3 skeins for the vest. Given the tremendous amount of swatching that I did for this project, I'm glad I had a lot of extra yarn. And how there's some left over for a hat!

All of my happiness and swatch madness aside, I still chose the pattern size a teensy bit haphazardly. I really need to sit down (or stand up) and honestly take my measurements, and it's really incredibly difficult to do that when you're excited to cast on for a new project. To combat the startitis, I've signed up for Ysolda's class at Verb next weekend. There are still a few spots left in the Saturday afternoon class, and Ysolda is signing books in between. My goals are to take good measurements, and to learn more about short rows. I partially started with Angostura because it doesn't really need short row shaping, but it's a technique I'll need to get more practice with if I'm going to be really satisfied with my sweaters in the future. Until then, I can daydream about which one to start next!