bekka

every girl needs an opossum button

Talk about an albatross. This cabled cardigan was just that. I started it May, the eighth (2009), to be exact. It was going to be Elsa's summer sweater because of the short sleeves. The pattern is free. It's called Cabled Raglan Baby Sweater.

And I finally finished all but the sleeves in September. Debated whether to take it with me to Florida for our vacation. I didn't. Vacation? Did someone say vacation? With a ten month old? No way. 

Anyway, this sweater taunted me, really. I lacked motivation to finish the sleeves. And the dpns, too. 

Which brings up one of my pet peeves with dpns: Why must I buy an entire new set when I've lost one, and only need one to have my five to work on? 

Somehow, I imagined that I could lengthen the sleeves on this cardigan and transform it into an article of clothing that might work in autumn and spring, a transitional sweater. But the sleeves are huge. There were like 40 or 50 stitches, at least on each of those sleeves. 

I wanted to be done with it. I didn't want to look up how to do sleeve decreases, or do any planning or plotting. 

Done. It's done. It's the only thing I've knitted since becoming a mother. Just took me five months. It fits Elsa well. She wore it today. Didn't get any good photos. It was dark this morning and so I resorted to dread flash photography.

She's walking! So every photo I take indoors, despite having a DSLR and thumbing it to the sports setting, is blurred. She has ten teeth, too. I should do a big Elsa update, but I don't know where to start and when to stop. But she's just amazing.

Her Grammy loved it. But Elsa pulled at the button a lot this evening when I picked her up to bring her home. Perhaps the button needs rethinking. It's a button sewn on, but a big snap that actually closes the collar.

Went out right away and bought new yarn to make a darling sweater for Elsa from Vintage Baby Knits, the Floyd Pullover.

Oh, the cables! It was a breeze. A snap. I think I can do cables now. I am liberated from my poor attitude and reluctance to consider cables as worthy of my time. Because cables completely befuddled me in the past. Hooray. This was a great project to ease one into cable-knitting.

What I love about knitting is that I learn something new with every project. I just wish that I could keep everything that I learn in mind so that I stop making the same silly mistakes. And actually, I learned two, or more, things from this project:

1. I should knit sleeves first because knitting them last stymies my project;
2. Cables are not so daunting after all, can be a bit of fun, and they add challenge and variety to otherwise boring stockinette stitch;
3. I loathe knitting with cotton. Something about that nautical cotton (Louisa Harding) was odious;
4. I might prefer wooden needles to my slick addi turbos.

And it's an opossum button because every girl needs an opossum button, don't you agree? It's not a mouse. It might look like a mouse. Okay. Maybe it's a mouse. But really, it was bought in the spirit of opossum-ness. And was bought at a yarn store where one might encounter a pet opossum under the table. 

I like quirky. I hope my girl does, too.

Oops, I missed my fourth anniversary of blogging at bekka. It was October 5 (2005). Sigh. It doesn't seem that long, but then, also, it seems a lifetime ago.

sew a button on it

Last year sometime on one of my antique store forays I found a plastic baggy filled with "ancient" spools of thread and bought them. Could not resist. It was like six bucks or something and my purchase probably kept some old coot from eating a can of cat food for the week, or so I imagined. I bought the thread for those fabulous wooden spools that Coats & Clark can't spare for the likes of  thread anymore. I wanted those dear wooden spools. I had no real plan for them. No real use for them. Just decided I needed them in my life and liked the Idea of their existence. The mere Nostalgic value they held. I wanted to run my fingers over the soft, warm burnished grain of the wood and I wanted to rescue them from a potential rubbish bin, fire pit, or some other dubious re-purposing they might see if they lingered long enough in that booth unsold.

In the meantime, those spools have not lain fallow in my home: I've used the thread! Imagine that! Using. The. Thread! Really! The colors are quite lovely and au courant, believe it or not. The quality is wonderful. Really wonderful. Who would have thought? After years of being exposed, actually, what is the word I'm thinking of here... stunted or blunted or inured, which means habituated, hardened, accustomed--had to whip over into word and use my handy F7 feature because I'm so reliant on that thesaurus feature. Whew! Where was I going? After years of being exposed to that awful polyester thread...

Anyway, you get the picture. That polyester thread is so sucky. And those old spools of thread have mercerized cotton, or just lovely cotton. It almost feels silky, I swear, by the hair on my chinny chin chin.

Those mechanized button sewing on machines don't do a good job of securing buttons to clothing, and so I'm always popping them off. And I have, what you might call, a Robust figure, anyway, and so my clothing strains at its closures quite a great deal of the time, so I'm usually sitting around sewing buttons back on my clothes. Here a skirt button, there a blouse button, you get the picture,  yes?

All of this to say, to share, that if you can, do,  scour the antique stores for spools of thread so that you, too, can experience this heavenly feeling of hand sewing, and hand repairing of your clothes with something other than those dreadful polyester threads you buy at big box stores. The irony is that the thread manufacturers are the same: Coats & Clark, etc. etc. The name remains the same, but the thread has changed. The quality and quantity. Curiously enough, they give you much much more of a far inferior, to my thinking and my sense, product now, than they did, then.

keep on smocking in the free world

One of the reasons I hoped for a girl while I was pregnant was so I could justify learning to smock. There just aren't that many great boy outfits that feature smocked panels, you know? I had my first smocking class last Saturday and almost cried. It was dreadful. I did not catch on. I was the worst student in the class. Of course, part of it, surely, is the medication I'm taking for my migraines, which makes it difficult to concentrate on anything, so that could be it.

It could just be that smocking is beyond my capabilities. I picked up the first bit quickly. Or so I thought, until my teacher, Myra stopped by and said that I threw my embroidery floss up or down or the wrong direction entirely on that whole row. I'm ashamed for you to see it. It's not pretty. I'm not crowing about anything here. You can see for yourself just how messy a smocker I'm turning out to be. She went through cable stitch so quickly that I never learned it and so I was completely lost when we went over some next stitch that used that as a basis to build upon.

Egads! So then tomorrow we're supposed to bring our sewn-together dress pieces so that Myra can put them through the pleater and then we begin the whole smocking on the real thing process. Whew. But, my sewing machines are torn up.  There was another woman (most others in the class are grandmothers, smocking for their grandchildren, not mothers, because what mother has TIME to smock?) in the same boat as I, with a busted up sewing machine. Myra said she and I could bring our cut out pieces to the shop and she'd sew them up and put them in the pleater, etc.

That's what I did yesterday, bring by the pattern pieces. Elsa and I showed up at 10am when the shop opened, but Myra wasn't there. I won't bore you with all the mishaps that went into the cutting out of pattern pieces, the night before with a splitting headache and her crying inconsolably, but there was blood on my behalf, which stained part of the fabric,  and other problems, too, like not enough fabric. It all came out in the end, and another woman at the shop (a Bernina dealership) let me sew the pieces together on one of the Berninas in the store, the 440 and lemme tell you, that was a dream, to sew on a Bernina. Sigh.

Later, when Myra rolled the pieces of the sewn-together dress on what appeared to be a flat wooden dowel, she remarked the edges of my fabric and asked if  I used my scissors exclusively on fabric.  I told her yes, that I have separate scissors for paper and for fabric. She thought my fabric scissors were dull because the edges on the fabric were not so precise. Oh dear. Guess it's time to have those sharpened.

Elsa and I hung out (hanged out?) for a while and I worked on my smocking stitches. I understand the theory behind the cable stitch, but don't understand the technique. Myra corrected that, and I still have quite a ways to go before that is anywhere near passable. But then again, class is tomorrow, and I doubt I'll have time to practice before then.

This dress I'm making, by the way, is for Elsa, and will be her first Easter dress.

honeycomb's big yeah, yeah, yeah

Ever since Elsa arrived I've itched to knit things for her. Never mind the unfinished knitted projects I started before she was born, I want to make something fresh and new! After scouring Ravelry for baby projects I decided to start Judy's Grandmother's Baby Sweater from Greetings from Knit Cafe.

Its texture appealed to me and I am a sucker for a wrap sweater, a wrap skirt, a wrap dress; wish they made wrap pants. I bought the plum-colored yarn at Hobby Lobby in early summer, thinking that I might make a February baby sweater for my baby. But then I waited because I wasn't sure that a boy should wear purple, even though it was a deep color. Silly, I know. But girl babies can get away with wearing every color of the rainbow. Poor boy babies.

Once I started knitting this I realized that it was the dread honeycomb pattern from a dishcloth I made, but that one was called Chinese Waves. Ugh. So the texture is lovely, but it's such a pain to knit, all that K1, slip 1, ad infinitum. And takes so much time. And frankly, too much attention. I need something really simple, like garter stitch, or stockinette. Remembering whether I K1 or K2 on the previous row was a chore. However, it wasn't something that I could really mess up if I got it wrong. It's not terribly obvious to the untrained eye, but an adept knitter could see where I went off a bit here and there.

What else? Oh, the edging was interesting. And the three needle bind off on the sleeves was cool. I picked up stitches along what would become the outside seams' edges and then bound those off to join the sleeve together.

Three needle bind off is one of my favorite techniques. Also got reacquainted with elastic bind off. That's where you knit two together, then slip that knitted stitch back onto the left needle, then knit those two together. Makes a prettier bound off edge. Probably elastic, too, like it says.

When Ian saw the finished sweater he thought it looked short. Yup. Short. It is that. And actually, too small for Elsa to get much wear out of. So that is a major bummer. I made the infant size because all her other hand knitted items swallow her as if her name was Jonah. That's right.My baby's been eaten by a whale.

All that work and she might wear it once or twice. Sheesh. The sleeves were tight, too. And I noticed that as well on the One-Piece Baby Kimono that I made years ago for a random baby and then never gave it away, so Elsa wears it. I close it with diaper pins and it looks cute. The shoulders are too wide and open. I wish I could find knitted baby wear that fits. She weighs 10.6 and this wrap is too small. Maybe two pounds ago it would have worked. If you plan to knit it, check baby's weight first and if he/she is over 10 pounds, make the larger one.

While I'm on that subject I'll rant on about the hooded carrying bag I knitted for Elsa. I suppose it's only good for carrying her around the house. Because unless you have the foresight to make corresponding slits in the front and back, you cannot have baby wear this while she is in a car seat. So this project is seemingly useless. I have yet to sew in the zipper and I'm tempted to rip the darned thing out completely and use the yarn for something else. It was expensive enough.

Besides the overwhelming daily joy of having a baby in my life it's also fabulous to have a willing and pliable model for my knitwear. She cannot sit up by herself yet; Ian is holding her upright in that top photo. But just you wait!

Now I can't wait to pick out which pattern I'll knit for her next, with better luck with the fit, I hope.

oh angora!

It's been some time since I last knit with Louisa Harding's Kimono angora, 2006 exactly. But I have a couple skeins in my stash and dug them out for a special project. Working with the yarn reminded me of how much I love it. It's simply luscious. So soft, the colors are dear. While knitting last night sherbet spun round my head, but then this morning while waiting in the car for Ian to finish an errand I realized how much the colors mimicked changing autumnal leaves.  Naturally, with it being an angora blend, I have rabbit fibers/hairs all over today's navy & black ensemble.

You like my legal pad backdrop? (said in Anna Nicole/trim spa voice over)

Also finished up the sweet baby cap mentioned in previous post. I have no idea who it is for. Just couldn't stop this sweet baby cap compulsion that's taken over my knitting life. Had in mind to give it to a woman with whom I serve on a committee whose due date was 20 October, but I haven't received word that she delivered. Surely she did, by now. May keep it for T. Rex though.

Not that he/she needs anything at all at this point. Thursday night Tracy and Laura popped over to get my nursery in order. They made short work of it. If I'd had to unpack, de-tag, fold, and put away all those things, no doubt I'd still be sitting on the floor surrounded by piles. Hope to share nursery shots soon, as things get more together. Can't consider it complete until the crib is together, and we're still awaiting the retro fit kit. Ugh.

Received a yarn call from Kel early this week. She sought silk yarn for a knitting commission, and I may have something for her in my stash, 10 skeins of Debbie Bliss Pure Silk in black that I bought a few years ago with intent of making something for my mother which didn't materialize. Anyway, she'll be making a duplicate of the modified Aran Pocket Shawl she knitted for her sister's preparatory school's charity event. Her modifications are fabulous, really, and so much more appealing to me than the original pattern.

Also bought all the skeins I should need for the ancestral holiday stocking I want to knit for T. Rex. Last week I picked up two skeins, then as I reached the car door, I realized I needed a third, but I wasn't turning back. You see, my LYSO threw me for a loop. Early in my pregnancy she predicted I was having a girl. Then last week, she changed her mind. Said it was a boy, because now I really looked pregnant and like I was carrying a boy. That was sort of a blow. I guess since we're not relying on technology to foretell our baby's sex, I rely far too much on wives' tales and such.

So when I returned to LYS the next day for the third skein, she revised her opinion and said it was a girl, like she originally predicted. Her reasoning is that she forgot to take into consideration my age. Older mothers mostly have girls. She went into an elaborate explanation about the differences between boy sperm and girl sperm and how tough my 37 year old eggs were to penetrate. Girl sperm are slow and steady and win the race. They have the tenacity to crack a tough egg, while boy sperm are out like a shot and quick to peter out. Apparently.

rockin onesie tutorial

Last-minute-like today I managed a few iron-on transfers to onesies for a special young man who almost arrived Thursday, but his mom decided to make her Sunday shower instead of going for an induction. I studied Mom's facebook profile and determined who her favorite bands were, found likely images online and saved them. I eyed the onesie's front (I used 3-6 months size) and determined that an image 3 X 3 inches would work best on that space. I resized my images and then printed them onto iron-on transfer paper.

Pre-heat your iron on it's highest setting so that it's good and hot by the time you've cut out your images and you're ready to move on.

It's mostly easy. I promise.

I printed the first batch and cut them out. Then I went to the Avery website to watch their demo to make sure I did everything correctly because it's been a few years since my last iron-on transfer project. Totally didn't think about "flipping" the image so it would transfer the correct way onto the shirt. And I really didn't think it would make any difference, except that two of my images had text on them.  But Ian said that it always bothers him to see images that aren't flipped the right way, so I printed off the second batch correctly flipped and cut those out.

Avery recommends that you place a pillowcase on your hard surface/ironing board, and then your t-shirt. Then place the printed side down onto the material. They want you to iron with both hands, pressing down with a bit of force. That wasn't necessary for projects as small as these.

For a very odd reason I mis-remembered their instructions as "press for five minutes..." and so on the first transfer I did, I scorched the paper and the transfer, and the onesie. Blame it on preggo brain, I suppose.  So anyway, I decided to keep this first try for T. Rex and try again. Sure, it looks sort of sepia'd out and aged, but I didn't want to give this as a shower gift. Yuck.

In the end, flipping the images didn't really didn't make a great deal of difference because the resolution was not as fabulous as I hoped. Keep in mind this isn't screenprined quality. You can't really read "Vote for Pedro" or "Sweet" on Uncle Rico's van. Nor can you read "Gibson" at above the tuners on the guitar. In my other iron-on transfer project I used tightly woven linen, and the images transferred much clearer to that fabric than these did to the t-shirt jersey of the onesie; it's slightly ribbed, and that degrades the image's integrity.

Uncle Rico's van was Ian's contribution. Nobody really got it at the shower though. Baby boy on his way will be called Van, and so Ian thought it was a neat play on words. And I wish I'd started earlier on the project and had him help me brainstorm because I could have done a whole Van theme, like with the A Team's van and the Magic Mystery Machine, and the Vanigan that TC drove in Magnum P.I. Maybe there'll be another boy called Van come along and I can explore that theme to its fullest.

Lastly, remember to let the transfer cool before peeling it off. And there you have it: A personalized, unique shower gift for a baby boy with musically talented parents.

baby got cap

Another reason my mitered mittens are on hold is this cap; the Norwegian Sweet Baby Cap. I knitted it for Van, Kelly's nephew. Surely you're tired of seeing these caps, as often as they appear on this blog. But I love the pattern and the finished cap. I was all set to cast on a pair of matching magic baby slippers until Kelly commented about straps. Not having a baby of my own (YET!) I had no clue that babies are notorious for kicking off booties. Who knew? With the flurry of cleaning/uncluttering my house is going through as we ready our home for T. Rex, I stumble across random bunches of leftover sock yarn almost daily, so I have at least another two or three baby caps I could make, if I find time.

And sweet Ian... he said he wished I could remain pregnant another ten months just so we could rid the house of more stuff. Having T. Rex has helped me get my mind right and change my hoarding/document everything approach to personal belongings. I've thrown out at least 100 pounds of old magazines that I kept. For future reference of course. The most delightful thing was finding issues of Vogue Knitting and Interweave Knits from 2000 and 2001, whoot. Can't wait to browse those patterns. And I'm amending my ways towards books, too. I've taken at least 100 or more books to the local used store for cash. It's minimal what they give compared to how much I paid full price for those books; and that sickens me.

I've got maybe a dozen or so beading and jewelry books that I'll not keep; my interset in that topic waned rather quickly. Hope to compile a list here in a few days so you can see if there's anything you'd like. I'd rather give the books away to folks than get $1 or $2 for them, it seems not worth it, you know? Anything to make y'all happy!

So, I found another slipper/booty pattern... actually, the same one that Maggie used to knit a pair of booties for T. Rex; they feature a bit of a cuff and a way to tie/tighten it to make it stay on. A few weeks back, I photocopied the pattern from the book I checked out from the library, only, I cannot find those pages now, despite my recent efforts at keeping my loose patterns together in three folders and a ring binder. Haven't decided how to resolve that problem, yet. Perhaps a return trip to the public library? Oh bother.

Also started another dishcloth for my shoebox project. This one, sorry no photos yet, is called Chinese Waves, and is a slip stitch pattern. It looks best worked on solid colored yarn, not the same red white and green that I used on the first one. I encountered it on Ravelry while searching for alternate uses for the Jo Sharp yarn I used up in that Camisa debacle a few months ago.

verity i say unto you

Months ago I downloaded and printed off an Ysolda hat pattern. I came across it, quite by accident Friday night and so the plotting began. What yarn could I use for Verity? I dug through various stashes scattered between rooms of my house and found two cakes of Classic Elite Montera in a dusty green that I'd bought several years ago. Probably had a pair of mittens, or gloves, possibly even a hat in mind when I purchased them. And, let's put in a plug for our sucky economy, 'k? I could be knitting completely from my stash for years and years if we enter GD II (Great Depression II).

Anyway, it was perfect for Verity. I swatched, even. I always do, unless gauge isn't important, and you know, 90% of the time it is. Perfect, perfect, perfect. Was meant to be, this yarn. This pattern.

Finished the crown Saturday and puzzled out how to attach and knit the brim to it. It took a try or two, but I got it quickly and moved on. Before casting on, I studied other Veritys on Ravelry and pshawed all those other knitters who exclaimed about the brim taking longer to knit than the crown. I thought they were challenged in some way.  Or just a large group of exaggerators. You know, how sometimes, those prone to telling tall tales will all be drawn to a particular knitting project?

Nah, I just made that up.

Seriously, I wondered how long it could take to knit this brim. Try all day Sunday. I took bathroom breaks (me and the dogs), I fixed a meal or two. But this was my day-long project; I estimate 6-7 hours of knitting on that brim. I'd look at those stitches and wonder how long it might take to finish. Was the end in sight? Who is it, Sisyphus and his rock? It was like that.

You see, once you've finished with the crown, you leave 72 (I think) live stitches on your circular needles, then cast the tab part of the brim on dpns. There are twelve stitches on your dpns that you have to knit that eventually corresponds with exactly one of those live 72 stitches. That's a total of 864 stitches in the brim. It was a lot.

The pattern was not difficult to memorize, though, I made an obvious mess that I considered letting go, but then ripped back about 6 or 8 rows. I love the brim's appearance. It's delightful. Like a moss or seed stitch, but I'm not sure. The amount of texture is delicious, if you love texture; all kinds of nubby.

The making of it is not for the slight of wrist. The constant motion of k1, sl 1 as if to purl with yarn held in rear repeated and then reversed to p1, sl 1 as if to purl with yarn held in rear (or was it front this time?) was so rough on my wrists. I took several breaks, and very deep breaths and wondered whether I had the stamina to continue on because of how uncomfortable it became to knit. It wasn't painful. Just achy.

Ian said it looked big, pouffy. It's likely that he muffled a chuckle; he's just that kind of guy. My answer was, "It's supposed to look like this." I pointed out the floral motif and asked for his advice with button selection. I got a hoot from reading how AJ asks her DH's opinion about colors and projects and then picks something other than what he preferred (but can't remember in which post she shared that). I was prepared to go that route, actually. I tried a baby blue, a black, and several shades of green buttons against its brim before going with one of two that he preferred.

And the more I looked at it, the more I liked how it complemented Verity. This is one of a set of buttons that Rebecca sent to me at least a year or more ago. I've held them in reserve because I love them so and didn't dare part with them.

I still may not. I made this hat with one of three persons in mind, and one of them is....me!

small glimpse

Since I haven't completely finished the project I took on this weekend, I thought I might share snippets from it. Won't tell you what it is, either, yet.

But, let's just say that I spent 8 or 9 hours Sunday knitting on and off a certain part of this project and it's likely that I won't create a second one. Ever.

More about that later, after the big reveal, which I hope to do in a day or so after I weave in ends and find an appropriate button to sew to appropriate spot.

kaw or, knitting at work

If you ask Ravelibrarians about knitting at work/ knitting at their library, they're divided between those who can and those who cannot. Sure, on their lunch break they can, but while on the clock/job? My situation is similar to theirs. I work a night shift from 4-7 every other Wednesday night and sometimes it is dead, especially in the summer. As reference librarians we'remust be approachable and not working on anything too in depth so we can drop it like a hot potato when someone cries for help.

Knitting is perfect for that. At least, the simple knitting I do. On occasion I've brought knitting out in "public" to the public reference desk. Only once did my dean/boss say something to me about it; and that's mostly because she "caught" me. She asked if I thought it was professional. I evaded the question with my reply that the student worker from OIT (computer services; we host a lab in the reference room) crocheted away the other night, inferring that if a student could do it, then I could, too.

I've been more careful since then about knitting at work at public service desk areas. And only at rather desperate times will I bring in my knitting. Like as Christmas neared and I spent every spare moment finishing Ian's Cobblestone. I worked on a sleeve at a faculty meeting; we meet alternating Friday mornings. Most everyone asked what I was working on and nobody frowned about it at all.

You see, bringing something to work on for those one, two, or three hour meetings is not at all unnatural. One of the librarians with mucho seniority brings crosswords that she cuts from the newspaper and saves specifically for our meetings. Then, near Christmas, she brings in cross stitch ornaments she's finishing up. Further, this spring, as her niece's wedding approached, she brought in larger cross stitch piece to stitch.

Another librarian, who is not as senior at the first, yet who has been here 3 or 4 years longer than I, brought cross stitch and crochet to our meetings. Which, in her case, is preferable, because unless she's downed 2 or 3 Diet Cokes prior to our meeting, she's known to grow drowsy and drift off. We all seem more alert with needlework in our hands.

Tuesday morning is my departmental meeting. It usually lasts an hour. Growing my I-cord for the sweet baby cap during its length was no issue. In fact, the back and forth of my knitting rather entranced one librarian who stared at my lengthening I-cord as if mesmerized by the swinging pocket watch of an hypnotist.

Oh, the power of knitting at work.

Two sweet baby caps down, at least one to three more to go. One for me, and two for those babies appearing soon! I know I mentioned how much I love this baby cap. I must tell you one more time. I love it. The finished cap is adorable. The only problem, and one I never thought of, is using sock yarn instead of something more soft for baby's head. Thank Laura and Tracy for pointing out how scratchy the trekking I used was. It's not that bad. But I've got scratchy wool guilt now. Granted, it's not like silk or even malabrigo, but it's nowhere near as coarse as some wools I've handled. I'm trying to discount their perception of my hats being too sratchy for sweet baby heads.