Two years ago, nearly, I started working on this shawl. It was a beautiful shawl. I wanted to have it ready for the maypole celebration in the spring. It was exactly the right pattern. I purchased beautiful yarn that I adored. I was ready to go. This was going to be the perfect shawl ever, or so I thought. If only I'd known what I was in for! Maybe I never would have started at all.
The shawl started off simple enough. There were a few rough patches, but once I got into the swing of things, I was flying. The pattern was easy to read and it was coming together beautifully. I was thrilled. The small images were starting to come out and I couldn't wait to be done. That's when my stitches were off on the count. I couldn't figure out where I'd lost count and I wasn't about to tink back and find where it was wrong to fix it, so I started over. I was sure this time I would get it right.
Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple. Nearly ten times I frogged this shawl and started over due to the count being off. I could have just tossed in an increase to correct the count and be done with it, but that would have been too easy. Whether or not anyone else noticed, I would know. It would be staring me in the face every time I looked at it. It wasn't that the pattern was wrong because it would have shown up in all the repeats and always on the same row. This was the chaotic missed stitch that seemed to like to jump in at unexpected times, which is pretty daunting when you're working across 200 stitches or more in each row! Yet even though this shawl was laughing at me (I swear, I could hear it!), I soldiered on. I was determined to finish and wear this thing to the may pole.
Wouldn't it figure that another stumbling block would get in my way. The interchangeable needles I had used for this project seemed to have a problem with the 8 gauge tips. The wooden needle kept falling off of the metal part that screws into the connecting cable. Try as I might, it just kept falling apart. Worse still, it would always fall apart in the middle of a row, making me drop a massive amount of stitches and have to struggle to pick them all up. As if it wasn't hard enough to keep the count correct before, now I had to contend with picking up a bunch of dropped stitches! This was just too much. I tossed the yarn and shawl, needles and all, into a bag and shoved it in my closet. I would come back to it eventually.
I did come back to it eventually. It had been stuffed in the closet, and in this house, the closet is just where you stuff anything you don't want to deal with. I uncovered it just before Christmas when I tried to clean out the closet and get the house in order. Some people say it was that whole pregnancy nesting thing. In truth, I just got sick of not being able to find anything and everyone complaining that my house was a bit chaotic. The bag was unearthed and I pulled out the yarn, thinking I should order new tips and start the project again.
Out came the bag and I dumped it out, spilling yarn and shawl on the floor. The lavender yarn formed a puddle on the linoleum floor, but something clicked against the ground and skittered away. I gave the yarn an inquisitive look, but ignored it. In my house, the chances of something else ending up in the bag of yarn are pretty great. Anyone with kids would understand. I picked up the piece of shawl to see if it was salvageable. As I was investigating, I noticed something was wrong. The needles were broken again. The interchangeable had popped out, reminding me, once again, why I dropped the project. I looked around the ground to find the piece that had run off. Perhaps I could glue it. Perhaps there was some way to make it work. Maybe I could just order a new one and be done with it. I was determined to finish. That's when I saw it, laying on the floor almost under the couch, my rogue needle.
When I picked it up, I was filled with sadness. This needle definitely could not be salvaged. Perhaps something heavy was stacked on top of it, because it had been broken in two! It was traumatic, heart-breaking, and a reminder why my house and wood needles do not make fast friends. With a saddened sigh, I resolved to buy a different kind of needle next time. Maybe it would be best to stick to metal. I put the project back in it's bag, cable, broken needle, and all, and went about my day. I'd pick it up later when the sight disheartened me less.
A good six months and two moves later, I've realized I had just the needles for the job all along in my knitting box! Why hadn't I thought of that? I pulled the needles out for a friend when I started teaching her to knit. She uses them all the time now, but I was certain I could get them back long enough to finish the shawl. With new excitement, I began to look for the pattern, which was long gone. Given it was a free pattern, I decided to hop online and print out a new copy. That's when things got bad.
Once on the web I went back through Ravelry to find the pattern. The pattern came up right away and I clicked on it to follow the link to the actual pattern. I was excited, but my heart broke just slightly when I saw the disclaimer on the bottom of the pattern stating it was taken down and replaced by a new pattern in fingering weight. I wanted to cry!
Then I started thinking, perhaps I could modify the fingering weight pattern. I could use that to finish my shawl and all would be good. I searched and searched for the pattern, but I wasn't able to find it. It was just gone, spit off into the void. Even the re-write of the pattern on Ravelry lead to nowhere as that pattern seems to have been discontinued as well. I just can't win.
So now I've learned my lesson. From now on I'll print up a copy of the pattern and keep it with the project at all times. You never know when it might be gone for good. And as much as I love some of the patterns from that site's free pattern listing, I'm not sure if I'll ever trust them again. To save myself heartbreak, if I do end up knitting one of their shawls, then that's wonderful. If not, well, I won't get too attached. I'd rather not suffer the heartbreak of having it gone before I finish and having to start over from scratch yet again.
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Friday, June 18, 2010
The Clapotis, because 15,000 Knitters Can't Be Wrong!
The Clapotis is a scarf pattern that looks more like a shawl to me. It's trendy, popular, and something that just about every knitter has made, every knitter but me. It's a cute little project, simple, yet dramatic. I didn't like it at first, but it seems to have grown on me. Who would have known I would fall in love with such a popular project? I always go for the less popular stuff. I like to be unique and individual.
What is it about this pattern that's got everyone wanting one? It's a pretty simple, yet dramatic design. The idea of dropping stitches and the increase pattern isn't something that's completely unheard of. It looks classy enough, though simple. There is just so much freedom through fiber choice to make this shawl or scarf take on a variety of looks, from simple and pretty to kind of wacky. It's really something that speaks to many knitters. It's truly diverse. The stitch pattern isn't terribly complex. Even a newer knitter can quickly master it. The dropped stitches (though the idea gives me minor heart failure) makes the lace portion very simple to do. It's a quick and easy knit without the look of simplicity. It's wonderfully dynamic!
Perhaps that's why patterns such as this become popular. They're easy and accessible to everyone. Being offered free on the web probably doesn't hurt either. Anything that's simple, yet classy can be an easy beginner's project that doesn't have the same, simplistic look of most easier projects. Unfortunately, most "simple knits" and beginner's projects look like beginner's projects. However, something anyone can do, yet still looks stylish, are incredibly popular!
My Clapotis is made of Ultra Pima (a cotton), which makes it wonderfully soft, silky, and brilliant. The beautiful sage color gives it a very simplistic look, yet it's still versatile enough of a color that I can wear it with just about everything. The pattern is engaging, even for someone who cannot work up a pattern more than once because it's boring once it becomes familiar. I'm absolutely in love with the project coming off my needles! Who knew such a popular and trendy project would be so inspiring? I love it!
What is it about this pattern that's got everyone wanting one? It's a pretty simple, yet dramatic design. The idea of dropping stitches and the increase pattern isn't something that's completely unheard of. It looks classy enough, though simple. There is just so much freedom through fiber choice to make this shawl or scarf take on a variety of looks, from simple and pretty to kind of wacky. It's really something that speaks to many knitters. It's truly diverse. The stitch pattern isn't terribly complex. Even a newer knitter can quickly master it. The dropped stitches (though the idea gives me minor heart failure) makes the lace portion very simple to do. It's a quick and easy knit without the look of simplicity. It's wonderfully dynamic!
Perhaps that's why patterns such as this become popular. They're easy and accessible to everyone. Being offered free on the web probably doesn't hurt either. Anything that's simple, yet classy can be an easy beginner's project that doesn't have the same, simplistic look of most easier projects. Unfortunately, most "simple knits" and beginner's projects look like beginner's projects. However, something anyone can do, yet still looks stylish, are incredibly popular!
My Clapotis is made of Ultra Pima (a cotton), which makes it wonderfully soft, silky, and brilliant. The beautiful sage color gives it a very simplistic look, yet it's still versatile enough of a color that I can wear it with just about everything. The pattern is engaging, even for someone who cannot work up a pattern more than once because it's boring once it becomes familiar. I'm absolutely in love with the project coming off my needles! Who knew such a popular and trendy project would be so inspiring? I love it!
Wednesday, June 9, 2010
Laddering
I hate knitting in the round. Well, I love it, because it's easy, but when I'm on double pointed needles (DPNs), I just can't seem to make things work the way they need to. If I knit one style, it's fine, but slow as dirt. If I knit the faster way, I keep running into complications with this thing called laddering. I just can't seem to win.
Here's the deal. Laddering is the term for those funky loose stitches where the breaks for each needle were when you're knitting. Effectively, the stitches between the needles were loose, but all the other stitches are tight enough. If all the stitches were that loose, it wouldn't be a problem, but they're not, so it creates a funky spot, and it looks horrible. The goal is to avoid this "laddering" effect.
Way back when I used to knit in the way known as English style, I had no problems with laddering. I couldn't imagine what people were talking about or why it was a problem. I just cruised through everything without a concern and that was that. I was knitting in the round like crazy. I preferred it to flat knitting. It was the way I was convinced I would do everything from that point on.
Unfortunately, I had a brilliant plan to learn a new style of knitting. When I learned to crochet, I determined that I would learn "continental" style of knitting. It seemed to make so much more sense, after all, you hold the yarn the same. Most of my knitting friends have talked about how much faster continental style knitting was. They were right. I was cruising through projects. I didn't realize it at the time, but my knitting became looser. It wasn't until I started knitting socks again that I noticed the effect. No matter what I did, I always ended up with laddering.
It took months for me to realize what had changed. I used to knit so flawlessly in the round. I never had problems like these before. Then I went to Boston and suddenly I had all these laddering problems all over the place. I didn't know where they'd come from. I just couldn't knit in the round anymore! My work looked horrible and I had to try all these little tricks to be sure I minimized the problems as much as possible.
Of course, I didn't notice this then, but now it's pretty obvious. When my knitting style changed, so did the end result. Socks had more problems with laddering, as did hats and everything else. It took me nearly a year to figure it out, and an experiment with reverting back to English style knitting.
Well, I guess that solves that. I'm back to English knitting for certain projects until I can figure out how to knit continental style without causing all sorts of laddering effects. At least I know what the problem is now and I can work towards fixing it. I suppose some progress is better than none at all.
Here's the deal. Laddering is the term for those funky loose stitches where the breaks for each needle were when you're knitting. Effectively, the stitches between the needles were loose, but all the other stitches are tight enough. If all the stitches were that loose, it wouldn't be a problem, but they're not, so it creates a funky spot, and it looks horrible. The goal is to avoid this "laddering" effect.
Way back when I used to knit in the way known as English style, I had no problems with laddering. I couldn't imagine what people were talking about or why it was a problem. I just cruised through everything without a concern and that was that. I was knitting in the round like crazy. I preferred it to flat knitting. It was the way I was convinced I would do everything from that point on.
Unfortunately, I had a brilliant plan to learn a new style of knitting. When I learned to crochet, I determined that I would learn "continental" style of knitting. It seemed to make so much more sense, after all, you hold the yarn the same. Most of my knitting friends have talked about how much faster continental style knitting was. They were right. I was cruising through projects. I didn't realize it at the time, but my knitting became looser. It wasn't until I started knitting socks again that I noticed the effect. No matter what I did, I always ended up with laddering.
It took months for me to realize what had changed. I used to knit so flawlessly in the round. I never had problems like these before. Then I went to Boston and suddenly I had all these laddering problems all over the place. I didn't know where they'd come from. I just couldn't knit in the round anymore! My work looked horrible and I had to try all these little tricks to be sure I minimized the problems as much as possible.
Of course, I didn't notice this then, but now it's pretty obvious. When my knitting style changed, so did the end result. Socks had more problems with laddering, as did hats and everything else. It took me nearly a year to figure it out, and an experiment with reverting back to English style knitting.
Well, I guess that solves that. I'm back to English knitting for certain projects until I can figure out how to knit continental style without causing all sorts of laddering effects. At least I know what the problem is now and I can work towards fixing it. I suppose some progress is better than none at all.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The LYS
When it comes to knitting, I'll admit, I haven't been very spoiled. Until very recently, the closest thing we had to a local yarn shop was Hobby Lobby. Micheal's was around, if you were up for a drive. It was easily forty-five minutes from my house, further after we moved. The yarn selection was rather pathetic and I found that more often than not I was stuck with acrylic blends or cotton. For a newer knitter, this wasn't so bad, especially after they started to carry a decent line of sock yarn, but as time went on, I started lusting for beautiful yarns of more varying materials and colors.
For those of us not lucky enough to have a local yarn shop (hereafter referred to as the LYS), there is always the option of ordering online. While this may open up a whole new range of possibilities, for someone like me, there's a need to see the color of the yarn for myself, to feel it's texture, to squeeze it for softness, before I make my final purchase. Online yarn stores, while wonderful, do not come with the satisfaction of knowing I got the perfect yarn. Instead you have to wait for it to arrive. What if it isn't what you had hoped for? What if it isn't as soft? What if the colors don't match as well as they seemed to on the digital swatches? How can you know how it feels? It's one thing if you've ordered that kind of yarn before, or received it as a gift, or even got to fondle another knitter's yarn, but if you haven't, it's all a gamble. Sure, you can have a general idea of what wool feels like, or bamboo, or cotton, but it's just not the same!
When I found out we were getting our own LYS, I was thrilled! I was going to have a place nearby to purchase all my yarn! I would be able to fondle it before purchase, hold it up to the light, and inspect it from every angle. I was going to be able to hold it while I wandered around to look at everything, deciding finally if I like this yarn better or that for the project I had in mind. More importantly, I was going to be able to get yarn that was far nicer than the craft store variety. I couldn't wait.
Of course, not all LYS's are created equal. My initiation into the world of LYS's back in Salem, Massachusetts, wasn't exactly the ideal. I walked in with my neon pink hair dressed all in black. My boyfriend looked scruffy as ever in a spiked leather jacket, black BDU pants, and a Slayer shirt. We had a stroller with us and my daughter at all of a year old tucked inside it, sucking her thumb and looking rather emo, a look she's still good at maintaining when she's not happy to be somewhere. The woman who worked there looked down her nose at us, not hiding her disgust at our presence in her store. I'll admit, I didn't know how to knit at the time. My boyfriend had suggested that we check it out because there might be something useful to make costumes with. He had thought it was a craft and fabric store, but I told him it looked like a "knitting store". We had decided to go in on a whim. In truth, if I was met by a friendly worker who wanted to be helpful, I probably would have left with my first set of knitting needles since I was seven or eight and enough yarn for at least a scarf, but that wasn't the reception I received. The woman's voice was dripping with contempt for my very presence as she asked "Can I help you?" When I told her I was just looking around, she rolled her eyes at me and walked away. I didn't want to touch anything for fear that I would somehow disturb the delicate displays and anger this woman. Instead, I just glanced around and walked out, no purchases or anything. It left the impression that knitters were all very old and grandmotherly, knitting outdated things with all the best intentions, or women like this, who thought that knitters were somehow better than the rest of us, and if you didn't look the part, you didn't deserve the time of day.
Three years later I decided to take up knitting again, and it took two more years before I would step foot in another knitting shop. Again, it was back in Massachusetts, though I still lived in Texas at the time. My ex had told me about this lovely little yarn shop he learned to knit at in Porter Square, Cambridge. Mind's Eye Yarn was a wonderful little place, nestled just a bit off the beaten path. Had I not known to look, I likely wouldn't have found it at all. It sat in an old Victorian home. Stepping into the front hall I immediately felt out of place. There was a stairway going up and a simple sign printed off a computer on the first floor door. I felt like I was somehow entering some secret society building, but once I entered, I felt right at home. This wasn't like the yarn shop I had visited previously. There was yarn in baskets, racks, and shelves scattered through the first room. The counter had a case of knitting notions. There was a shelf of knitting books on the wall next to the register. Being winter time, there was a Christmas tree adorned with scarves, hats, and other knitting projects. The girl behind the counter didn't come off as terribly friendly to me, but she told me where I could find everything as I came in and told me to ask if I needed anything. I wandered the shop, looking at everything, fondling the yarn with reckless abandon. I seriously considered buying some roving and a drop spindle to see if I could get some spinning lessons while I was up there, but decided the better of it as I would need to pack it all in my bags for the flight home. At one point the house was clearly an apartment, as the back housed a kitchen where the cupboards were filled with yarn. Even the dish washer housed an amusingly appropriate selection of dishcloth cottons. When asked about what kind of project I was shopping for, or if I was just browsing, I was given her opinion on each of the sock yarns they carried. When I finally settled on my purchase, I sat down in a rocking chair in their front room to knit. As it turns out, my ex was due to arrive there in not terribly long after my arrival, so I chose to sit, knit, and wait for him. This may sound odd to some, but my ex and I are actually friends now. It's amazing what several years can do for a relationship! Once he arrived, the girl at the yarn store, my ex, and I all sat down to knit together. She and I were both working on socks and my ex was working on his first hat. It just felt so comfortable! While I had fears that the girl who worked there didn't particularly like me, or think too highly of me, I still felt comfortable enough to enjoy my time. I went back one more time to make another purchase, but it wasn't one of those places I could just hang out for hours all the time. I just wasn't at home there. I had thought about stopping in at the knitting group or the spinning group during my two week stay, but I just didn't feel comfortable enough to dive in and meet all these new knitters. I figured I just wasn't the "hang out with the knitting group" kind of girl. It was one thing to knit with friends, but I didn't think I could make friends that knit.
When the Old Spinning Wheel opened up, even before that when they were hosting their Stitch 'N' Bitch, I wasn't entirely sure what I'd think of it. I wanted to go, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I would have nothing in common with the other knitters, which was my biggest fear. I wanted to go to the shop so badly when it opened, but I had to have a project in mind. I had to know what I was going to be purchasing for, because yarn at the LYS is notoriously expensive when you've bought nothing but craft store yarns and a couple of inexpensive online orders in your life. I had heard that most of what they would carry would be lighter material yarns. Since Texas is so warm, they probably wouldn't be carrying much in he way of wool, preferring cotton and the like. Since I'm not much for lightweight knits, I didn't know if they'd have much that would suit my interests. I'm always cold and I'm looking to knit wool diaper covers for my cloth diapered little one. It took a while for me to finally creep through the door at the Old Spinning Wheel, and even then, I went with a support group. I took my room mate with me so I wouldn't have to face them alone. If I felt out of place, at least I'd have her there with me.
That first day when I pulled up, I wasn't even sure I was in the right place. It wasn't until I saw a familiar car with Ravelry stickers on the window that I was certain I was there. I walked in to this place that looked more like a house than a store. The front room had shelving along the wall that was half-filled with yarn. The big baskets on the floor were only partially full. For a new store that was only beginning to stock up, I wasn't surprised. I'm certain they'll have a good deal more selection as time goes on. There was a giant spinning wheel in the center of the store, something that I longed to use, if only I knew how. Kids were sitting at a table in the next room over, watching movies on a portable DVD player. The knitters were all tucked away in the back of the place, chatting away. I had met some of them before at the one knitting group I attended and on Ravelry. One of them had been my inspiration for knitting socks and was the first person to tell me Ravelry even existed. We had known each other for a while from an entirely different group. I was encouraged to come on in and make myself at home. I didn't really do any knitting the whole time I was there, since my son wanted to cuddle in my lap instead, but I had a wonderful time. There was no pressure and I wasn't even once asked if I wanted to buy anything, which I suppose in some ways is a bad business practice. It was relaxing, homey, comfortable, and incredibly welcoming. I had finally felt what other knitters feel when they go to their knitting group and to their LYS.
I've always been big on supporting local businesses. The concept of thinking globally and acting locally takes on a whole variety of meanings, including buying from local retailers. I suppose local is all relative, since the yarn shop is a good forty-five minutes away. Both Micheal's and Hobby Lobby are much closer and more convenient in many ways. Of course, they don't provide the same level of comfortable shopping and an enjoyable environment where I could stay for hours. Yes, many of the yarns the store buys are shipped here, meaning there's still the cost of transportation, but they buy in bulk, reducing both the packaging and the number of trips required for solitary purchases I can make online. Let's not forget the ability to fondle the yarns! On top of it all, I get the joy of knowing that I've supported a local business rather than some big box store, some chain where the workers are often drones and know nothing about the products and services I want. I can enjoy the atmosphere. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I bought over forty dollars of yarn myself in the first week I visited and my room mate spent nearly as much. I've fallen in love with their selection of yarn and now I just need to think of projects to make with all the different styles and colors of yarn they have! At the very least, I think that's where I'll be buying all of my yarn to make longies, shorties, and covers from now on! I honestly don't think I'll ever buy another craft-store yarn again! Who needs cheap acrylics when there are so many delightful options available at the LYS?
Years ago, that first yarn shop I visited could have set me on my path. All it would have taken was a little bit of effort on the worker's part to get to know me. I would have gladly tried knitting again after I gave up on it so many years ago. However, I've come to realize that not all yarn shops are created equal. Some are far more family oriented than others. Some are far more welcoming to new faces, even faces that don't really seem like knitters at first. Some are more sterile and uncomfortable. I've found what I like in a yarn store, and as long as they're in business (and I'll do my best to keep them in business myself, if I have to...even if I need a second house just for my yarn stash!), I'll be buying all my yarn there, and visiting as often as possible. It's wonderful to be a part of the knitting family.
For those of us not lucky enough to have a local yarn shop (hereafter referred to as the LYS), there is always the option of ordering online. While this may open up a whole new range of possibilities, for someone like me, there's a need to see the color of the yarn for myself, to feel it's texture, to squeeze it for softness, before I make my final purchase. Online yarn stores, while wonderful, do not come with the satisfaction of knowing I got the perfect yarn. Instead you have to wait for it to arrive. What if it isn't what you had hoped for? What if it isn't as soft? What if the colors don't match as well as they seemed to on the digital swatches? How can you know how it feels? It's one thing if you've ordered that kind of yarn before, or received it as a gift, or even got to fondle another knitter's yarn, but if you haven't, it's all a gamble. Sure, you can have a general idea of what wool feels like, or bamboo, or cotton, but it's just not the same!
When I found out we were getting our own LYS, I was thrilled! I was going to have a place nearby to purchase all my yarn! I would be able to fondle it before purchase, hold it up to the light, and inspect it from every angle. I was going to be able to hold it while I wandered around to look at everything, deciding finally if I like this yarn better or that for the project I had in mind. More importantly, I was going to be able to get yarn that was far nicer than the craft store variety. I couldn't wait.
Of course, not all LYS's are created equal. My initiation into the world of LYS's back in Salem, Massachusetts, wasn't exactly the ideal. I walked in with my neon pink hair dressed all in black. My boyfriend looked scruffy as ever in a spiked leather jacket, black BDU pants, and a Slayer shirt. We had a stroller with us and my daughter at all of a year old tucked inside it, sucking her thumb and looking rather emo, a look she's still good at maintaining when she's not happy to be somewhere. The woman who worked there looked down her nose at us, not hiding her disgust at our presence in her store. I'll admit, I didn't know how to knit at the time. My boyfriend had suggested that we check it out because there might be something useful to make costumes with. He had thought it was a craft and fabric store, but I told him it looked like a "knitting store". We had decided to go in on a whim. In truth, if I was met by a friendly worker who wanted to be helpful, I probably would have left with my first set of knitting needles since I was seven or eight and enough yarn for at least a scarf, but that wasn't the reception I received. The woman's voice was dripping with contempt for my very presence as she asked "Can I help you?" When I told her I was just looking around, she rolled her eyes at me and walked away. I didn't want to touch anything for fear that I would somehow disturb the delicate displays and anger this woman. Instead, I just glanced around and walked out, no purchases or anything. It left the impression that knitters were all very old and grandmotherly, knitting outdated things with all the best intentions, or women like this, who thought that knitters were somehow better than the rest of us, and if you didn't look the part, you didn't deserve the time of day.
Three years later I decided to take up knitting again, and it took two more years before I would step foot in another knitting shop. Again, it was back in Massachusetts, though I still lived in Texas at the time. My ex had told me about this lovely little yarn shop he learned to knit at in Porter Square, Cambridge. Mind's Eye Yarn was a wonderful little place, nestled just a bit off the beaten path. Had I not known to look, I likely wouldn't have found it at all. It sat in an old Victorian home. Stepping into the front hall I immediately felt out of place. There was a stairway going up and a simple sign printed off a computer on the first floor door. I felt like I was somehow entering some secret society building, but once I entered, I felt right at home. This wasn't like the yarn shop I had visited previously. There was yarn in baskets, racks, and shelves scattered through the first room. The counter had a case of knitting notions. There was a shelf of knitting books on the wall next to the register. Being winter time, there was a Christmas tree adorned with scarves, hats, and other knitting projects. The girl behind the counter didn't come off as terribly friendly to me, but she told me where I could find everything as I came in and told me to ask if I needed anything. I wandered the shop, looking at everything, fondling the yarn with reckless abandon. I seriously considered buying some roving and a drop spindle to see if I could get some spinning lessons while I was up there, but decided the better of it as I would need to pack it all in my bags for the flight home. At one point the house was clearly an apartment, as the back housed a kitchen where the cupboards were filled with yarn. Even the dish washer housed an amusingly appropriate selection of dishcloth cottons. When asked about what kind of project I was shopping for, or if I was just browsing, I was given her opinion on each of the sock yarns they carried. When I finally settled on my purchase, I sat down in a rocking chair in their front room to knit. As it turns out, my ex was due to arrive there in not terribly long after my arrival, so I chose to sit, knit, and wait for him. This may sound odd to some, but my ex and I are actually friends now. It's amazing what several years can do for a relationship! Once he arrived, the girl at the yarn store, my ex, and I all sat down to knit together. She and I were both working on socks and my ex was working on his first hat. It just felt so comfortable! While I had fears that the girl who worked there didn't particularly like me, or think too highly of me, I still felt comfortable enough to enjoy my time. I went back one more time to make another purchase, but it wasn't one of those places I could just hang out for hours all the time. I just wasn't at home there. I had thought about stopping in at the knitting group or the spinning group during my two week stay, but I just didn't feel comfortable enough to dive in and meet all these new knitters. I figured I just wasn't the "hang out with the knitting group" kind of girl. It was one thing to knit with friends, but I didn't think I could make friends that knit.
When the Old Spinning Wheel opened up, even before that when they were hosting their Stitch 'N' Bitch, I wasn't entirely sure what I'd think of it. I wanted to go, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. I would have nothing in common with the other knitters, which was my biggest fear. I wanted to go to the shop so badly when it opened, but I had to have a project in mind. I had to know what I was going to be purchasing for, because yarn at the LYS is notoriously expensive when you've bought nothing but craft store yarns and a couple of inexpensive online orders in your life. I had heard that most of what they would carry would be lighter material yarns. Since Texas is so warm, they probably wouldn't be carrying much in he way of wool, preferring cotton and the like. Since I'm not much for lightweight knits, I didn't know if they'd have much that would suit my interests. I'm always cold and I'm looking to knit wool diaper covers for my cloth diapered little one. It took a while for me to finally creep through the door at the Old Spinning Wheel, and even then, I went with a support group. I took my room mate with me so I wouldn't have to face them alone. If I felt out of place, at least I'd have her there with me.
That first day when I pulled up, I wasn't even sure I was in the right place. It wasn't until I saw a familiar car with Ravelry stickers on the window that I was certain I was there. I walked in to this place that looked more like a house than a store. The front room had shelving along the wall that was half-filled with yarn. The big baskets on the floor were only partially full. For a new store that was only beginning to stock up, I wasn't surprised. I'm certain they'll have a good deal more selection as time goes on. There was a giant spinning wheel in the center of the store, something that I longed to use, if only I knew how. Kids were sitting at a table in the next room over, watching movies on a portable DVD player. The knitters were all tucked away in the back of the place, chatting away. I had met some of them before at the one knitting group I attended and on Ravelry. One of them had been my inspiration for knitting socks and was the first person to tell me Ravelry even existed. We had known each other for a while from an entirely different group. I was encouraged to come on in and make myself at home. I didn't really do any knitting the whole time I was there, since my son wanted to cuddle in my lap instead, but I had a wonderful time. There was no pressure and I wasn't even once asked if I wanted to buy anything, which I suppose in some ways is a bad business practice. It was relaxing, homey, comfortable, and incredibly welcoming. I had finally felt what other knitters feel when they go to their knitting group and to their LYS.
I've always been big on supporting local businesses. The concept of thinking globally and acting locally takes on a whole variety of meanings, including buying from local retailers. I suppose local is all relative, since the yarn shop is a good forty-five minutes away. Both Micheal's and Hobby Lobby are much closer and more convenient in many ways. Of course, they don't provide the same level of comfortable shopping and an enjoyable environment where I could stay for hours. Yes, many of the yarns the store buys are shipped here, meaning there's still the cost of transportation, but they buy in bulk, reducing both the packaging and the number of trips required for solitary purchases I can make online. Let's not forget the ability to fondle the yarns! On top of it all, I get the joy of knowing that I've supported a local business rather than some big box store, some chain where the workers are often drones and know nothing about the products and services I want. I can enjoy the atmosphere. Of course, it doesn't hurt that I bought over forty dollars of yarn myself in the first week I visited and my room mate spent nearly as much. I've fallen in love with their selection of yarn and now I just need to think of projects to make with all the different styles and colors of yarn they have! At the very least, I think that's where I'll be buying all of my yarn to make longies, shorties, and covers from now on! I honestly don't think I'll ever buy another craft-store yarn again! Who needs cheap acrylics when there are so many delightful options available at the LYS?
Years ago, that first yarn shop I visited could have set me on my path. All it would have taken was a little bit of effort on the worker's part to get to know me. I would have gladly tried knitting again after I gave up on it so many years ago. However, I've come to realize that not all yarn shops are created equal. Some are far more family oriented than others. Some are far more welcoming to new faces, even faces that don't really seem like knitters at first. Some are more sterile and uncomfortable. I've found what I like in a yarn store, and as long as they're in business (and I'll do my best to keep them in business myself, if I have to...even if I need a second house just for my yarn stash!), I'll be buying all my yarn there, and visiting as often as possible. It's wonderful to be a part of the knitting family.
Saturday, June 5, 2010
The Knitter Song (based on Disney's "Tigger Song")
The wonderful thing about knitters
Is knitters are wonderful things!
Their tops are made out of sweaters!
Their bottoms are made out of...strings?
They knit, and knit, and knit, and knit,
And fun, fun, fun, fun, fun!
But the most wonderful thing about knitters is...
I'm not the only one!
No! I'm not the only one!
Is knitters are wonderful things!
Their tops are made out of sweaters!
Their bottoms are made out of...strings?
They knit, and knit, and knit, and knit,
And fun, fun, fun, fun, fun!
But the most wonderful thing about knitters is...
I'm not the only one!
No! I'm not the only one!
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Commitment Issues
I've been knitting for four and a half years now. I've taken on all variety of projects. I've attempted challenging lace patterns and cables. I've done patterns that require math and calculations for custom fitting. With all of that, it's shocking to some that I haven't yet embarked on one of the most logical knit creations, a sweater.
Well, I suppose that isn't true. I've made baby sweaters for each of my boys, the two children born after I learned to knit. They were quick, easy projects. They were simple, not requiring any complicated pattern work or anything like that. Each was a simple formula, two fronts, a back, and maybe a hood or a collar. They weren't terribly challenging projects. Each could have been thrown together in a day of dedicated work, but this isn't anything like tackling a full-on adult sweater. These were on par with making any other simple projects. I don't consider making a baby sweater to be making a "real" sweater. They're simple, quick, and incredibly useful.
Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like sweaters. I love them. I wear them all the time. At one point I had quite a stock of them so I could grab one and go. There was always one in the car, in case of emergencies. There was generally one sitting on the chair I would knit in, just in case I felt chilled. One was always draped next to the bed for easy access in the mornings. They were stuffed everywhere because you never know when you might want to grab a little something to throw on.
Here's the issue, sweaters require this thing called "commitment". Making a sweater requires hours of work and multiple balls of yarn. Yes, I've made projects that require multiple balls of yarn, but multiple generally means two, maybe three if I'm really ambitious. In some cases, those two or three balls are for different colors, so I hardly use much out of any. When talking about a project that requires hours of work and possibly as many as nine or ten balls of yarn, I get scared away. Will I have time for that kind of a commitment? Can I really dedicate as much time as a sweater really deserves? The justification follows with telling myself I'm a poor girl and can't possibly afford that many balls of yarn at one time. Besides, there are so few sweater patterns that really suit my style. Those that do need to be purchased, and I don't have the money for that, especially those that come from books. What if the sweater pattern is the only one in the book I even like?
Of course, all of those are just excuses. I've seen more sweaters than I can count that I would adore wearing. I would get daily use out of them if I had the chance. With the knitting time required, I could save up for a big project like that. It would be no different than affording a handful of little projects that would require the same knitting time in total. In truth, my excuses are about as thin as the paper my patterns are printed on and wouldn't stand up to any kind of serious abuse. My children could shred them in seconds!
The real reason, the deep, underlying fear, is that I would never be able to complete a sweater. Sure, I would start off fine, completely dedicated. I would choose a pattern I loved, a yarn I adored. Things would go well, for a while. That's when the trouble would begin. It would start with something little. I'd decide to take a break because I had made so much progress, and, of course, I wouldn't want to burn out on it. I would pick up something little to fill the time, then get back to it later. Knowing how I am, I would forget about it, then find it three projects later, deciding with determination that it needed to be done. By this point, Christmas would be creeping up and I wouldn't want to be unprepared! I would dive into my Christmas knitting, having no time for the sweater. With the way babies have been in my life as of late (everyone's having one, it's got to be a trend), I'd probably have some baby shower gift to throw together at some point in all of that. Before I know it, I'd be so lost in other things that needed to get done, and the sweater can always wait. It's not like I needed it right that second or anything, right? I would then put it off for this pair of socks I had to have, of which I would probably only knit the first. Then I would clearly need to make new shorties for my youngest as it would be going into summer and too hot for longies or layers. After that, I would finally find the first sock and have to knit it up so I could wear the socks come winter. Not to mention the undoubted need for socks, mittens, and hats for my children! By the time I finally came back to the sweater, my size will have changed or I will have fallen out of love with the pattern. I would likely frog it all and start again with another sweater I was convinced the yarn was just perfect for, starting the whole process again.
So, you see, it's not that I don't love sweaters. I do. I will gladly accept the gift of beautiful hand-knit sweaters in luscious yarns any day! I simply don't have the dedication to knit a whole sweater. To even attempt it would be a crime against yarn-kind.
Well, I suppose that isn't true. I've made baby sweaters for each of my boys, the two children born after I learned to knit. They were quick, easy projects. They were simple, not requiring any complicated pattern work or anything like that. Each was a simple formula, two fronts, a back, and maybe a hood or a collar. They weren't terribly challenging projects. Each could have been thrown together in a day of dedicated work, but this isn't anything like tackling a full-on adult sweater. These were on par with making any other simple projects. I don't consider making a baby sweater to be making a "real" sweater. They're simple, quick, and incredibly useful.
Don't get me wrong, it's not that I don't like sweaters. I love them. I wear them all the time. At one point I had quite a stock of them so I could grab one and go. There was always one in the car, in case of emergencies. There was generally one sitting on the chair I would knit in, just in case I felt chilled. One was always draped next to the bed for easy access in the mornings. They were stuffed everywhere because you never know when you might want to grab a little something to throw on.
Here's the issue, sweaters require this thing called "commitment". Making a sweater requires hours of work and multiple balls of yarn. Yes, I've made projects that require multiple balls of yarn, but multiple generally means two, maybe three if I'm really ambitious. In some cases, those two or three balls are for different colors, so I hardly use much out of any. When talking about a project that requires hours of work and possibly as many as nine or ten balls of yarn, I get scared away. Will I have time for that kind of a commitment? Can I really dedicate as much time as a sweater really deserves? The justification follows with telling myself I'm a poor girl and can't possibly afford that many balls of yarn at one time. Besides, there are so few sweater patterns that really suit my style. Those that do need to be purchased, and I don't have the money for that, especially those that come from books. What if the sweater pattern is the only one in the book I even like?
Of course, all of those are just excuses. I've seen more sweaters than I can count that I would adore wearing. I would get daily use out of them if I had the chance. With the knitting time required, I could save up for a big project like that. It would be no different than affording a handful of little projects that would require the same knitting time in total. In truth, my excuses are about as thin as the paper my patterns are printed on and wouldn't stand up to any kind of serious abuse. My children could shred them in seconds!
The real reason, the deep, underlying fear, is that I would never be able to complete a sweater. Sure, I would start off fine, completely dedicated. I would choose a pattern I loved, a yarn I adored. Things would go well, for a while. That's when the trouble would begin. It would start with something little. I'd decide to take a break because I had made so much progress, and, of course, I wouldn't want to burn out on it. I would pick up something little to fill the time, then get back to it later. Knowing how I am, I would forget about it, then find it three projects later, deciding with determination that it needed to be done. By this point, Christmas would be creeping up and I wouldn't want to be unprepared! I would dive into my Christmas knitting, having no time for the sweater. With the way babies have been in my life as of late (everyone's having one, it's got to be a trend), I'd probably have some baby shower gift to throw together at some point in all of that. Before I know it, I'd be so lost in other things that needed to get done, and the sweater can always wait. It's not like I needed it right that second or anything, right? I would then put it off for this pair of socks I had to have, of which I would probably only knit the first. Then I would clearly need to make new shorties for my youngest as it would be going into summer and too hot for longies or layers. After that, I would finally find the first sock and have to knit it up so I could wear the socks come winter. Not to mention the undoubted need for socks, mittens, and hats for my children! By the time I finally came back to the sweater, my size will have changed or I will have fallen out of love with the pattern. I would likely frog it all and start again with another sweater I was convinced the yarn was just perfect for, starting the whole process again.
So, you see, it's not that I don't love sweaters. I do. I will gladly accept the gift of beautiful hand-knit sweaters in luscious yarns any day! I simply don't have the dedication to knit a whole sweater. To even attempt it would be a crime against yarn-kind.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
The Knitting Group
As much as I've met up with the local knitters, I've never really attended a kitting group. I mean, I did join up with them at one point at the coffee house. I suppose that was technically meeting up with the knitting group, but it was different, in a way. I wasn't a regular member and I never did go back. I wasn't really a part of anything. It was more of a one shot deal.
Things have changed. There is now a local yarn store. They opened up a while back, but I haven't been able to make it. I've been trying to get in for their knitting groups, but mornings really aren't my thing. The idea of dragging a baby and possibly two older children while trying to knit on top of it all wasn't terribly appealing, no matter how kid friendly the space was. I just didn't feel up to it.
Well, I went yesterday. I did have kids with me, so I didn't really get to knit, but I had a good time. It was nice to get out and interact with other knitters. I have to admit, I don't seem to have much in common with any of them at this point in time, but that doesn't matter. Many of them are older, so I feel a little out of place. It's hard to feel like you fit in when most of the other people there have grandchildren and I've got a newborn baby of my own. It feels a little awkward at first! I can't imagine we will have much in common beyond knitting, but that's okay. Maybe I'll find myself more into knitting than I thought. After all, that's how I was with bellydance. I didn't have anything in common with my dance friends but dance, and with many, we didn't even share the same style. However, we had something in common, so that was enough.
Not only have I started in with the knitting group, but I'm going to be joining their knit-along. It's for a pattern that I wasn't really in love with when I looked at. The Clapotis is nice and all, but it's kind of a trendy thing to make. Almost everyone I know has made one at this point, at least, if they're a serious knitter. I didn't want to do something that trendy no matter how much I might love the pattern. This time, though, it's different. I want to be a part of something. It's a group effort, even though everyone will have their own finished project. It just makes me feel more like a part of the greater knitting community.
I think I'm definitely going to make the knitting group a part of my week, twice a week if I can. I really enjoyed it, and I hope the more I get to know people, the more I'll feel at home there. They don't judge me because I'm different. They don't nose into the personal details of my life. They don't feed me opinions on how I raise my kids or what I've chosen to do with my life. They don't even really ask me about my life at all! It's all about the knitting and talking about happy things. I've never met a group with so little drama! I can't wait to go back!
Things have changed. There is now a local yarn store. They opened up a while back, but I haven't been able to make it. I've been trying to get in for their knitting groups, but mornings really aren't my thing. The idea of dragging a baby and possibly two older children while trying to knit on top of it all wasn't terribly appealing, no matter how kid friendly the space was. I just didn't feel up to it.
Well, I went yesterday. I did have kids with me, so I didn't really get to knit, but I had a good time. It was nice to get out and interact with other knitters. I have to admit, I don't seem to have much in common with any of them at this point in time, but that doesn't matter. Many of them are older, so I feel a little out of place. It's hard to feel like you fit in when most of the other people there have grandchildren and I've got a newborn baby of my own. It feels a little awkward at first! I can't imagine we will have much in common beyond knitting, but that's okay. Maybe I'll find myself more into knitting than I thought. After all, that's how I was with bellydance. I didn't have anything in common with my dance friends but dance, and with many, we didn't even share the same style. However, we had something in common, so that was enough.
Not only have I started in with the knitting group, but I'm going to be joining their knit-along. It's for a pattern that I wasn't really in love with when I looked at. The Clapotis is nice and all, but it's kind of a trendy thing to make. Almost everyone I know has made one at this point, at least, if they're a serious knitter. I didn't want to do something that trendy no matter how much I might love the pattern. This time, though, it's different. I want to be a part of something. It's a group effort, even though everyone will have their own finished project. It just makes me feel more like a part of the greater knitting community.
I think I'm definitely going to make the knitting group a part of my week, twice a week if I can. I really enjoyed it, and I hope the more I get to know people, the more I'll feel at home there. They don't judge me because I'm different. They don't nose into the personal details of my life. They don't feed me opinions on how I raise my kids or what I've chosen to do with my life. They don't even really ask me about my life at all! It's all about the knitting and talking about happy things. I've never met a group with so little drama! I can't wait to go back!
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