• Three_rib_hat_1
     
    I did not make the Knitting Olympics this year, but am rather wishing there was an event for Finishing, as I've somehow managed to wrap up two long-neglected projects in two days — the Vintage Velvet Scarf (still drying) and this one, the Three-Rib Beret, from an article by Jacqueline Fee in the November/December 2009 "Piecework" magazine.

    The moment I saw this darling hat, I thought of some Jaeger Matchmaker DK I've had in the drawer for quite a number of years — this is shade 656 Cherry, not that it matters any more, I suppose, because it's been discontinued, curse them.  A terrific yarn.

    I had to enlarge the pattern, as it was far too small as written for Julia's impressive noggin.  I cast on with 102 sts, increasing to 204 for the st st section, dec to 180 and then 90 for the K5, P5 section, and down again to 36 for the K2, P2 top; I did each section 2 rounds longer than in the pattern, to keep the balance more like the original.  Julia says it's a bit small, but okay — but I'm not concerned by her coolness, as she hasn't taken the thing off since I sewed on the last pompom last night.

    Had to use 2 skeins, but got to try out the Russian join which worked pretty well.

    Three_rib_hat_2

    It doesn't look like much flat, but on a head it is incredibly cute, and with pompoms almost irresistable!

  • Vest_fiance_1

    Ta-da! at last, the Vest for a Fiancé, from Knitting With a Smile by Inger Fredholm of FredholmKnitting.  I started this nearly a year ago,
    let it sit over the summer when it was just too hot, and then picked up again
    in a rush hoping it would be done by Christmas or so.  I did get the
    knitting itself done in early December, but lost heart at the finishing, then gave myself a talking-to last week and dug it out again.

    Vest_fiance_2

    I want to love this book — I want to love this pattern.  I like it
    a lot, but I'm annoyed at some little things about it that kept me from
    loving it with quite the abandon I wanted to.  Be warned straight off
    that this pattern at least assumes a considerable amount of experience — which
    in all fairness she warns about ahead of time — but there is little
    information about finishing and nothing at all about steeking.

    The style is very colloquial, which I think may make it a little
    difficult for those knitters extending themselves with a pattern a
    little harder than they are used to. There are a few little typos in
    the Vest for a Fiancé at least — a cast-on and 7 back-and-forth rows gets you to the
    RS, do the picot at the hem and armholes K2tog, yo but around the front edges P2tog, yo (well, I assumed that
    was a typo, and did it K2tog, yo). 

    Vest_fiance_3

    Vest_fiance_4

    I centered both the front and back patterns, as it bothered me that they weren't already. Luckily, the patterns themselves were so pleasing to my eye even at the time that this was only a minor cavil.

    (The color in the top photos is more accurate than in the bottom ones.  The sunlight was rather tenuous; perhaps that was it.  My camera seems to get a little over-excited when it has to do reds, too.)

    Vest_fiance_5

    I also added a row of the white "fleur de lis" across the shoulder and back of the
    neck, as in the photo of the original vest, not the one knitted for the
    book — I just thought it looked more finished that way.

    I think that the front edge band is a bit too big.  I thought so from
    the moment I cast it off, but sewed it up anyways because I was, well,
    I can't say heartily sick of the thing, but I just really wanted it to be
    finished.  It didn't look too big after some energetic blocking,, but I think it probably could be worked smaller.

    As I said, there are no instructions as to steeking and finishing, so of course I poked around on the internet beforehand, starting with Eunny's justly-famous Steeking Chronicles
    She was (at least at the time) quite set against machine-sewed steeks,
    and argued so logically that I was reluctant to do them that way.  I
    had, though, already bought the Smart wool, which is superwash, and
    Eunny noted (somewhere in there) that you can't do a crocheted steek on
    superwash as the fibers are too slippery.  I also found comments there
    and elsewhere from Norwegians and friends-of-Norwegians who said they'd
    done machine-sewed steeks for years with never a problem with loose
    stitches or stiffness — so I thought, right, well –! and just went
    for it, following for the most part some advice from KidsKnits on steeking.

    So here are a few things that I learned:

    Join all new colors/balls in the middle of the front opening steek. 
    Do not be tempted to join anywhere else in order to save that arm's
    length of wool.  If all of the ends are in the front, they will be
    trimmed away like magic when you cut the steek, and you will not have
    to weave in all of those fiddly ends.  And I'm embarrassed to say that
    I didn't think of this much earlier!

    The Vest for a Fiancé steeks are far too big, especially the one at the neck.  They vary widely in width; I've no idea why.  I
    wanted the cut edges to be hidden under the folded hem, so had to
    re-reinforce the wider ones with the sewing machine and trim them again.  Yeah, I should
    have thought of that first, too, because I thought "this is huge" even as I was
    working it — 25 sts for the neck steek compared to 7 for the front opening and 11 for the
    armholes.  I did actually stitch two cutting lines, and cut the neck steek much closer to where I wanted it, but
    overestimated the first time around.  (The wool I "saved" by not
    joining new balls in the front, I lost by having to cut away a 2×4"/5x10cm  piece
    at the neck.)  Seven sts would probably be fine for each of the steeks —
    although I will say that I don't yet have that much experience with them, so am happy to hear other advice.  It looked as though
    Elizabeth Zimmermann's "kangaroo pouch" trick would have worked perfectly here.

    I tried not to have any floats longer than three stitches.  This was a real bother, but I think it paid off —

    Vest_fiance_6

    Vest_fiance_7 

    I'm actually rather pleased with the facings.  I had seen somewhere — stupidly, either forgot to bookmark it or didn't put it in the right call number in my internet bookmarks (yes, my bookmarks are cataloged in Dewey Decimal order) — that the traditional method of sewing down the facing is with an X-stitching on the inside, but upon sitting at the kitchen table with a blunt darning needle in very bright light, couldn't quite see how to do this without it showing on the right side.  The bottom hem facing had gone on surprisingly easily (I think I've only ever knitted them in before this!), with a kind of whipped stitch.  Since the cast-off edge of the front band had the "chain" running neatly along the edge, I took advantage of that and made sure that my hand-stitches went into the middle of each "link" and thus are completely invisible.  A neat trick — I'm sure I'm not the first one to have thought of this, either.

    These photos, I must say, show the wonders of blocking.  I was a bit dismayed with the gauche charm of the thing, still delighted with the colors and the patterns but just not quite sure that it was all going to come together, as it were — and yet after it was all stitched up and the ends snipped off or sewn in or tucked away, everything just sort of settled down most amazingly.

    The machine-sewn steeks, I must say, are quite flexible, not stiff in the least.

    Vest_fiance_9

    Actually, now that a week or so has passed, I'm beginning to forget the annoyances, and just remember the fun of it.  It's not a particularly flattering shape — the shoulders especially — but I love the colors, I still love the flowers on the front and the "stars" on the back, and the smart border between the two, and the dashes of white at the hem….


  • You Are a Cirrus Cloud


    You're a bit mysterious and reserved. You mostly keep to yourself and do your own thing.
    Some people may even consider you allusive. You're hard to track down at times.

    People who know you find you to be very transparent. It's always easy to tell what you're thinking about.
    You tend to drift more than most people. You're always trying out new ideas, friends, and even personalities.

    Well, people who know me have said that I am anything but transparent, although I can certainly be allusive.

  • Happythanksgiving

    From Laura (aged 9 11/12).

  • Pulsvermereblonde

    All in a rush this afternoon, I finished the Pulsvarmere Blonde — lace wristwarmers — from Marit of med pinner, which I found through Guro at rett og vrangt. (You can get to the PDF version of the pattern down where it says "klikk her".)  The pattern is in Norwegian, but it shouldn't be terribly difficult to figure out for those who have done charts.

    legg opp = cast on
    maske, masker = st, sts
    strikk = knit, work
    rettmaske = K
    kast på pinnen = yo
    2 masker sammen = K2tog
    maske løst av = slip the stitch [wyib]

    So cast on 30, knit 1 row, work 22 sts before beginning lace chart. (There is a little mistake on Row 17: the row should be "Sl 1, K2, (yo, K2tog) 3 times".)

    I wouldn't recommend a multicolored yarn for this — I tried it with some Malabrigo, and while it was deliciously soft, the lace pattern simply disappeared.

    With the Jaeger Alpaca, I cast on 35 instead.  I also used a provisional cast-on and grafted the seam, to avoid bulkiness.  The wool was a real bother to work with at this gauge, I must say, very splitty; I thought I'd caught them all, but I'm seeing some rather embarrassing gaffes as I type.  Oh, well.  I am, on the other hand, cozy-warm!  Whew!

    "Blonde" is a faux amis — it does not mean "blonde" but "lace".  That took me a while to figure out, actually, although perhaps it is a little joke.  I have made only one joke in Norwegian, wh. I have quite rightly kept to myself, my Norwegian being rough as I am only learning from books and making comments on Guro's blog, who is nice enough to tell me that I'm doing pretty well.

  • Don’t Laugh

    IMG_4369small

    I am freezing.  I am actually shivering, I'm so cold.  It's all of I think four degrees cooler here inside the house.  I am thinking longingly of the three pairs of mittens and wristwarmers that I've started this summer and haven't finished, and now I'm too cold to knit.

    In my defense, this is Southern California — it just doesn't get cold.  And it was well into the 90s on Monday!  We were all in shorts and sandals just the day before yesterday!

  • I knitted a pair of mitts for Laura this past spring, with some leftover Koigu.  I have learned by experience not to expect careful treatment of handknits from the girls, even if they are as delighted with them as Laura has been with the mitts, but when Julia came to me the other evening with a mitt in her hand and said, "Mom, what's this?" I tell you my hair stood on end. 

    I couldn't think what it was, a solid, flexible plastic-like mass some inches in diameter, with curiously cratery edges a little harder than the rest.  "Oh," Laura said, suspiciously nonchalant, "that's putty," some gacky stuff from a Mad Science workshop she went to late in the summer.  Apparently she and a friend had been playing in the girls' room and were, I regret to say, throwing the putty at each other, and when it disappeared, they simply shrugged and went on to something else.  I could not seem to pin her down as to how long it had been missing, but it was at least a week.

    And so, well, Mommy got a little science lesson of her own.  The first step, of course, was to research removing putty from wool, both in my indispensable Home Comforts reference and online. Helpfully, the (now-empty) putty container listed the ingredients — sodium borate solution, polyvinyl acetate, and diluted paint — which David tells me is much the same ingredients as white glue.  Most of the sources I found recommended Simple Green cleaner or isopropyl (rubbing) alcohol, but warned that stains were almost certainly likely, from the dye in the putty.

    I didn't think to take photos until I was well into it.  This first is after a soak in plain water.  The putty had, curiously, lost most of its color in the water, and gotten rather revoltingly glutinous.  It felt slimy, but was still quite firmly attached.  I managed to pick off some of it at the top left, but instead of coming off in rubbery strings (or, I should be so lucky, in one big mass), it was only tiny anticlimactic bits.

    Eeuw1 

    The next thing I tried was Simple Green.  The wool felt stiff and squeaky in it.  ("Koigu!" I thought mournfully.)

    Eeuw2 

    I scrubbed the putty with an old toothbrush, and picked at it a bit,and it did have some effect but not much.  It might be that I was not patient enough to let it soak longer in the Simple Green, though.  The putty seemed to come off better down in the purl ribs, possibly because it had either not adhered as thoroughly there or because it didn't have enough surface area to cling to, with the shape of the stitches.  

    Eeuw3 

    The last resort was isopropyl alcohol.  I was concerned that it would bleach the wool, but by this point I figured that I didn't really have anything to lose.

    The next picture is after a few short soaks and rinses.

    Eeuw4 

    Yuck.  After this, I thought, "oh well", and just left it in the sink in about a half-inch of alcohol, and went to bed.  Perhaps half an hour later, David looked at it, and the putty had dissolved completely, and so he rinsed the mitt and left it to dry on the edge of the sink.  The mitt was, from all of the picking at it and scrubbing with the toothbrush, I guess, nearly an inch longer than it had been, but I tossed them both in the delicate wash cycle as usual, and it went back to its original shape.

    The color, alas, will never be the same.  You can still see the shadow of the putty — which was purple — and the effects of the rubbing alcohol, although luckily the stain is not quite so obvious in real life as in the photograph.  The texture of the wool is a little different, with not so much body as before, as though it had been through a number of rough washings.  I am resigning myself to a soak in alcohol for the other mitt, to make the colors more like between the two.

    Mittsafter

    Oh, well.

    (Still very comfy and warm, though, I must say.  Hurrah, Koigu!)

  • I finished knitting the last few inches of a Fibert Trends' Versatility Vest for my aunt, who wasn't up to it these days, in exchange for an even less-finished project which I have recycled into eleven or twelve balls of Cashsoft DK in Mist.

    Versatility

    After swatching carefully, I thought that my gauge was spot-on — ha-ha!

    Versatility2

    Luckily this came out in the wash, as they say.

    The vest is in Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Superchunky, very nice to knit
    with, I must say, even though I tend to like finer yarns generally.  The color is more accurate in the photos below, a soft baby-blue.

    I was secretly hoping that there would be enough left over for a scarf, but it was not to be.  I had a little felted project in mind for Laura's dolls' house, and so I did some research online and read that Cashmerino will not felt, because of the microfiber content.  Feeling experimental anyway, I knitted up a rather loose swatch, and tossed it back and forth between hot and ice-cold water, where it sort of tensed up, but did not really felt.  After six or eight washes in the machine with my cleaning rags — hot water, heavy-duty cycle — it has become a rather interesting sort of bouclé texture.

    Cashmerino_felted1

    Cashmerino_felted2


    Bathmat

    The edges don't look particularly sturdy, but I roughed up the trimmings to almost no effect, so perhaps little dolls' feet will not be too hard on it.

    IMG_4348small

    One ball Red Hart Heart & Sole 70% superwash wool, 30% nylon (213 yds/195m per 50g ball), in "Watercolor Stripe"; 2mm needles.. Julia hates them — "too scratchy".

  • From last week's Booking Through Thursday

    Two-thirds of Brits have lied about reading books they haven’t. Have you? Why? What book?

    Oh dear, oh dear.  I'm afraid I don't see the purpose of lying about what I've read.  To impress people?  Far more likely to be thoroughly mortified by being caught out when someone asks "What about that glass paperweight, eh?"

    Here's part of the original article from Reuters:

    The study, carried out on the World Book Day website in January and February, surveyed 1,342 members of the public.

    Those who lied have claimed to have read:

    1. 1984 – George Orwell (42 percent)

    2. War and Peace – Leo Tolstoy (31)

    3. Ulysses – James Joyce (25)

    4. The Bible (24)

    5. Madame Bovary – Gustave Flaubert (16)

    6. A Brief History of Time – Stephen Hawking (15)

    7. Midnight's Children – Salman Rushdie (14)

    8. In Remembrance of Things Past – Marcel Proust (9)

    9. Dreams from My Father – Barack Obama (6)

    10. The Selfish Gene – Richard Dawkins (6)

    I admit that I have read none of these except, as it happens, 1984, which I was forced to do in high school.  This, along with Animal Farm, may have been the beginning of my dislike for post-apocalyptic totalitarian-world science fiction.  To be honest, though, what I have read of Orwell as an adult — Keep the Aspidistra Flying and his essay "Why I Write", for instance — intrigue me for his writing style.  (No, really, I just read him for the prose.)

    I have read parts of the Bible, but not the whole thing.  Have never even heard of The Selfish Gene! that's embarrassing.

  • I've had "The Last Place on Earth" in the DVD player this week, in the hopes that watching something really cold will make me forget how very hot it is outside. The added benefit of this series — aside from the general polar-geekiness and the Norwegian accents, I mean — is of course the knits!  I don't know that I've ever seen this much in one series.  Every knitter, I suppose, has moments of knitwear-spotting.  I thought it would be fun to post some of mine, and so here is the inaugural post on "Knitting in the Movies" —

    Obviously any movie about Norwegians in cold weather is bound to include knitwear, and "The Last Place on Earth" is no exception.  There is a charming little farewell scene in which Betty, Amundsen's housekeeper and former nanny (played by Astrid Folstad) comes with a goodbye present for the expedition members, a generous basket of knitted socks.  I loved the little touch that the socks she has knitted for the men are thick, sturdy, sensible grey things, but at the bottom of the basket are these fabulous black-and-white ones for Amundsen himself.  It is times like these that you wish the character would stop and say, "Oh, Betty, how thoughtful!  Look, Leon, etc. etc. etc." and examine the socks for a minute or two.  This glimpse is tantalizing.

    Polarknitting11

    The scenes on the Fram itself offer the most opportunity for knitwear-spotting, as once the ship gets to the polar ice-pack it is cold enough for heavy wool but not so cold for the men to be in their full sealskin gear.  Here, in the scene where Amundsen (Sverre Anker Ousdal) informs the men of their "detour" to the South Pole instead of the planned trip to the North as they had intended, we get a sight of three sweaters at once.

    Polarknitting8

    Bjaaland (Ståle Bjørnhaug) has a wonderful red-and-black gansey, obviously handmade and well-worn.  It has a basic boat-neck opening, fairly roughly finished or mended, probably with crochet, and a plain ribbed waistband and sleeve cuffs in red.  The construction of this and the other garments in the series seem to be the standard Norwegian type, with the body knitted in the round and steeked for the sleeves.  The all-over pattern of Bjaaland's is fairly simple but has a nice little lines-and-zigs effect from a distance.

    Polarknitting9

    Polarknitting10

    Polarknitting2

    Stubberud (Hans Ola Sørlie) has on a typical Setesdal lusekofte that appears to be in fact an off-the-rack Dale.  It is rather unusual in not having the slit-neck and colorful embroidery of most Setesdal pullovers.

    The "expedition sweater" for the series was obviously the one seen in this scene on both Johansen, in the background behind Bjaaland, and on Prestrud, beginning to appear as the camera pans to the right.

    Polarknitting5

    Polarknitting7

    It has a two-colored version of the slants-and-sticks pattern so often found in Faroese sweaters, and a rounded neck with a slit at the front.  The one worn by Prestrud (Bjørn Skagestad) has a neck apparently bound with a narrow cream facing, but Johansen's looks slightly different.

    Polarknitting3

    Polarknitting19

    Helmer Hanssen (Jan Hårstad) wears his in the ice-pack scenes and later in the near-disaster of the first attempt at the Pole.  You can see here that the waistband appears to be a simple rolled stockinette

    Polarknitting15

    Here it is again on Johansen (played with wonderful harsh dignity by Toralv Maurstad):

    Polarknitting12

    The same sweater pops up, interestingly, with a different neck treatment here on Beck (Erik Bye):

    Polarknitting22

    Polarknitting14

    The expedition cook Lindström (Jon Eikemo) has a plain wide-ribbed grey pullover with a
    loose turtleneck, possibly machine-made, which I was — considering the rivalry between the
    Norwegians and the British — quite amused to see was exactly the same as one worn by a number of the British, here for instance by Oates (Richard Morant):

    Polarknitting16

    Polarknitting17

    Who knows at this remove what was going on in the minds of the costume folks ("bloody hell, we forgot something for Lindström! here, we've got masses of these!").  Only a knitter would notice, I suppose.

    Polarknitting23

    Hassel (Erik Hivju, second from right) has the only textured sweater in the series, a heathered brown or olive-brown boatneck sweater that is, frustratingly, never seen quite clearly.  The one on Amundsen is my personal favorite, and not
    just because Sverre Anker Ousdal is wearing it.  (Yes, he really is a good half-head taller than the others.  So was Amundsen.)  I love the combination
    of smoky-grey and black, the simple all-over cross pattern with
    interesting shoulder detail. 

    Polarknitting1

    Am tempted now to pick up my own Norwegian gloves — oh, if only there was a cool breeze!