I like to knit and I like to talk about knitting, but I don't really enjoy taking pictures of knitting. I like taking pictures of friends, capturing special moments, but I'm not a gifted photographer and it comes across in my photos. And that's OK! I bake better cakes and cookies and brownies than most people I know; I can spot a burgeoning romance a block away; I'm pretty good with languages and I get along really well with uncles and in-laws. I'm not looking for sympathy; I'm just stating a fact. A fact that is clear when you see these:
I did not take these. Jim, the recipient of these tweedy socks, did. I gave them to him before I had a chance to photograph them so I told him he'd need to take some snaps for me so I'd have documentation of the finished product (he's a professional, you see). Man, did he pull through.
Details:
Pattern: My own
Yarn: Rowan Rowanfleck DK Tweed
Needles: 3.5mm & 3.75mm
Started: January 4
Finished: January 8
Jim is a dear friend with excellent and specific taste. His style is a little retro, a little modern and a little Scandinavian (perhaps I should have started with Scandinavian and just have been done with it). He is one of my most adored friends, and I wanted to give him something special for Christmas, but I knew the gift would need to be both useful and tasteful. Jim is one of those people who is always pairing down, so extras hold little appeal for him. It wasn't until after the 25th (but before the Epiphany, so still in the Christmas season) that I knew what I would give him: a hand knitted pair of house socks. What I call house socks are socks that are heavier and denser than usual and warm enough to function as slippers, without the bulky sole. Perfect for someone who likes to open a window for fresh air, or spend weekends at an underheated Pennsylvania cabin.
I couldn't find a sock pattern that was quite what I was looking for, so I improvised this one after consulting a couple of toe-up sock patterns I'd followed before (for fingering and worsted weight yarns). I really like to-up construction; I especially like the Magic 8 cast on. It really is like magic because suddenly you have a toe without seams! Anyway, I started these knowing only that Jim wears a 9 1/2 or 10 shoe. Fortunately I have man-sized feet, so I was able to try these on as I knit them to see if they would fit.
They do! And he loves them. What's better than that?
So, in closing, I'd say that there are worse things that I could be worse at than photography. Right, Rizz?
One of my first FOs of 2011 is a pair of socks I started in October 2010. These were done as part of a one clue released each week knit-a-long, and I was going gangbusters for the first three weeks, until test knitting and holiday knitting intervened. I was kind of relieved to set them aside, though; I'm not sure why. They weren't particularly difficult.
Details:
Pattern: TTL Mystery Sock 2010, by Kristen Kapur
Yarn: Hazel Knits Artisan Sock
Needles: US 1/2.25mm
Started: October 9, 2010
Finished: January 3, 2011
I modified the pattern a bit. The "tiny trowels" pattern on the ankle was getting to be a bit much for me, and so I decided to work in rib stitch along the foot instead, which was both faster and easier. It also made them less fussy, and as I've said before, I'm not a fan of fussy knits.
This yarn I love. I bought it when I was visiting my dad in Portland last fall. I didn't spend time with any knitters while I was there, but I do have a very indulgent friend who very kindly took me to a couple of yarn stores I'd investigated. I picked up this skein at Twisted, which had a sizable collection or yarns dyed by small, independent dyers. I'd never seen anything by Hazel Knits before and I loved this color, so it seemed like a good choice. It was.
I hadn't been back to Portland for years, and it's changed a lot. In addition to drinking delicious coffee and eating delicious pie, I saw a tiny museum
I'm an only child who grew up not in a musical family, but in a house that was always, always filled with music. Weekends I would wake late (I was a child nightowl), sun streaming in the house and music on the turntable. My mom would usually be cleaning, so the house often smelled lemony-fresh. My father would be sitting on the floor in front of his stereo making a mix tape.
My father was the master of mix tapes. His weren't the kind we made for our little friends and crushes in high school and college, intended to convey how we felt about that person; my father's tapes were artful and adult, with fade-ins and outs and excellent flow. They evoked a mood that was more collective than personal, more vibe than emotion. The Commodores, B.B. King, Harold Melville and the Bluenotes, Isaac Hayes, Johnny "Guitar" Watson, Rickie Lee Jones, Parliament, Earth, Wind and Fire, Smokey Robinson, Rufus with Chakha Khan, LaBelle (before Patti went out on her own), Rick James, Chic, The Doobie Brothers, Deniece Williams, The Brothers Johnson, Sugarhill Gang, ConFunkShun, Kurtis Blow, Tower of Power, early Elton John, Champagne, Kool and the Gang, Queen, Rose Royce: that was the music that filled my home as a little girl.
Not just the home, our car, too. A brown Ford Gran Torino with a sweet tape deck (also equipped with sweet equilizers; no mere "bass" and "treble" knobs for my father, uh-unh). My dad liked to go for drives on the weekend and often I would accompany him. He would nurse a Sapporo (it was legal to drink and drive back then) and I would have a Big Gulp. I remember wearing shorts, and my legs would get sweaty and stick to the hot pleather seats, but I'd try not to complain. We'd go to the drive-thru car wash and he'd vacuum the car, polish the tires. He'd stop at a little store and buy me a pack of Hostess Sno-balls. Sometimes we'd drive to the Black side of Portland where he grew up and get take out at Popeye's or Church's (we had only Kentucky Fried where we lived). When we did that, we'd inevitably run into someone my dad grew up with. All the while, his music played on the stereo.
My father and I weren't terribly close when I was growing up, but these outings were always super fun for me. I felt special, like a little sidekick.
Why am I feeling so nostalgic? Well, I recently had a birthday, so have been thinking a lot about the past. Also, as I write this, there's sun coming in my window and I'm listening to a radio program on WKCR, the Columbia University radio station (89.9 FM if you're in the area, but they stream online in you're not). The show is called Across 110th Street and features classic funk, soul and R&B; in short, it's the soundtrack to my childhood. It's amazing. I highly recommend checking it out if you are at all inclined (plus, it's nice to support independent radio).
So, like it says in my bio, my craftiness comes from the ladies in family tree, but my taste in music is all thanks to my dad.
Speaking of crafts, I've been keeping my fingers busy.
Pattern: Welsh Country Stockings, by Nancy Bush
Yarn: Cascade Heritage and Colinette Jitterbug
Needles: US 0/2.0mm & US1/2.25mm
Started: April 14
Finished: May 2
These socks were an early birthday present to myself. I had been wanting to make them for close to two years. In fact, they were the sole reason I purchased Nancy Bush's book, Folk Socks. I made some modifications, inspired by my friend Okay Knits (ravlink). As written, the pattern makes mid-calf length socks, which I feared would make me feel crazy, and I had two skeins (approx 800 meters) of the Cascasde Heritage that I'd purchased at The Point's going-out-of-business sale last spring, so I decided knee-high was the length. The Jitterbug was also purchased on sale last fall. I though the colors would go well together, which they do. However . . .they are rather close tonally, so the diamond-dot colorwork at the top is a bit obscured. I'm not too troubled, however, as I'd like to make them again. Next time I'll just pick colors that contrast more starkley.
The first sock took me 1 1/2 weeks to complete, but the second sock only took a week. I'd had all of my modifications (calf increases and decreases) figured out already, and I'm starting to get the hang of sock construction, which is nice. I felt such an intense sense of satisfasction when I finished these, that I immediatly (really, the same day) cast on for these.
I've been following Lena's blog A Wee Bit Knitty, for over a year now, and while she's Norwegian, she often posts in English. I like her spirit and her projects, so I was quite happy when she wrote up her go-to sock pattern. I made some modifications, including casting on more stitches, to accomodate my ankles and big feet (Eurropean 42s), and, for fun, worked a half-handkerchief heel, the instructions for which I found in the the Nancy Bush book. So, these were a pleasure to knit, and I learned a new constrution. The colors are a bit more rock-and-roll than my usual color pallate, but I like them.
This has been a long and wordy post, so I'll close it by coming around full circle to where it began: music. The Brothers Johnson performing one of my childhood, and current favorites, Strawberry Letter 23. Dreamy, groovy and oh so nice.
Oh, hello snow day, my old friend. I used to dream of you as a child, but you seldom visited us in the City of Roses. No matter, you're now making up for your formerly withholding nature.
My office was closed today due to inclement weather, so instant three-day weekend. Brooklyn is so pretty in the snow. It's almost as though the brownstones were made for this stuff.
After shoveling myself out from the 18+ inches that fell over night, I crocheted for a bit, working on some potholders I'm making for a swap, then headed into the city to meet my friends Jim and Rolando for pancakes.
February is National Pancake month and Clinton Street Bakery, possibly my favorite food spot in Manhattan, features pancake specials all month long. And I do love a good pancake. I'm almost maniacle about them. The problem with this place is that it gets mad crowded, and with today being a snowday, crowds were even more intense. I'm kind of embarassed to admit that we waited about 75 minutes for a table, but our food was so incredibly delicious, that the payoff was worth it.
My plan was to come home after pancakes and keep crocheting. What actually happened was that I took a three hour nap, 5 pm - 8 pm. It's terribly disconcerting to wake from a nap and see that it's dark outside. My first thought was that it was 6am, as it's still dark here at that time. That I was wearing street clothes is how I realized what had happened. I blame it on the Olympics; I've been staying up way too late every night watching the human drama unfold. How can one not?
But pancakes and Olympics arent; the o nly things that have been happening around here this month. No, there was also some sock knitting going on. To wit:
I've been trying to knit a pair of socks for about a year and a half now, and have made several starts, but never completed one sock, let alone a pair of socks. I was understandibly excited, then, when someone from my knitting group suggested a sock-a-long for February. I started these on Feb. 1, using the US2s recommended by the pattern, but the resulting fabric was way too loose and ugly. Switching to US1s didn't help much, so I made the leap down to US0s. So, I learned the importance of swatching, and that I knit rather loosely in the round. Once I got going, the socks sailed. Cuff down, simple and straightforward with just a bit of cable and seed stitch. Fun, yet easy enough to do while standing on the subway on the way to work.
The yarn I bought from the dyer, who is a friend of mine, back in December. I had initially wanted to use it to knit a shawl, but was convinced to use it for the socks, and I'm so glad that I did. It's Bluefaced Leicester, which has long fibers that are more resistent to friction holes than many other wools. More importantly, it's really soft, making for super cozy socks. And the color is like the sun, hence the hoakey title of this post.
