The relaxation knitting brings.....?

Does anyone else do guilty knitting?

Boy, I do.

It comes in all sorts of forms.

There is the stuff you grab up and work on because you see the unfinished project in the stash/closet and you really intended to have that made for yourself long before now.

If you had finished it you could have worn it last month during the horrible cold, but you had packed it up because it never gets that cold this far south. If you had finished it you would have gotten high praise at the last meeting with all the newbies. But nooo you laid it aside and left it on the shelf and never once thought about touching it until now.

There is the guilty knitting you do when you realize that the baby you started that blanket for is now here and you have only just done about a (fill in the blank) (half, a third, just barely cast it on.

There is the guilty knitting you do when you are racing to finish a project because you have fogged it 92 times and are still not satisfied with the results and you suddenly realize that you HAVE to give them SOMETHING and the results will only matter to you because you are the only one who ever knew that you considered an Irish Cable throw and then couldn’t do a decent cable to save you little round rump and now after six tries the darn thing has be to gift wrapped and on the table at the wedding in less than a week.

There is guilty knitting you do when you own child complains that you’re always making things for other folks. So you snatch up some yarn you had bought for him and after a frantic rush you produce a tried and true hoody that the little schmuck takes one look at and says that’s a baby pattern isn’t it? Why did you knit me a baby sweater?

There is the knitting that you do in the heat of summer and right after the holidays because you want to get a leg up on the community service projects for the group and while you would rather be doing socks for yourself you know that you had better get busy on this so the total for the year won’t look like a giant goose’s egg.

Then there is the true guilt. It’s those projects that you started long ago. You had seriously planned to surprise the recipient with a wonderful item that was exactly what they wanted… had even asked specifically for right down to the weight and color.

Then something happens. They go into a retirement home or the hospital. You change jobs and don’t see them. You or they get a divorce or remarried. Whatever the reason you go for long stretches without seeing them and in back of you mind you think that it would have been nice, but now…. There they are! They are back in your circle/life and you wish to goodness you had just kept the darn project on the burner. You try to recall where you put the thing and did you use the yarn for something else and …..

Yes, knitting is soooo relaxing.

Knitting through the tears

Knitting through the tears.

I don’t think I have done that much.

There have been times when I was chanting while I knitted.

When it doubt, knit!

There have been times when I have knitted to keep from screaming.

Knitting to keep my hands too busy to choke anyone…

And, I have knitted on a few occasions to fight off worry and even physical pain.

But tears? No. Not until today.

They say things come in threes. Bad things and good alike travel in this circle.

I would think that a sane sound minded person would be able to step back and say… “There that’s the third thing,” and with a deep sigh of relief be done.

It rarely works that way. It isn’t working that way today anyway.

It should have been a good week. The cold weather is gone. Nine months with Don….

Leon passed his drug test and was assured by the manager he would start a new job.

On Monday Don appeared at my house to tell me we were through. I took a deep breath, went in the house, placed a phone call, and unraveled his sweater while I waited for my date. I didn’t feel bad, sort of relieved.

That night at mid-night I got pulled over in my own driveway on suspicion of DWI. No, I hadn’t been and yes he was a jerk and yes I got a ticket because my dearest third son had let our policy lapse on the cars. (In December.) I was shaken, but not real moved. I took up a baby blanket that I have been working on since November for a co-worker and after a few inches I went to bed and attempted to sleep.

Today I found out that Tori’s future hubby didn’t get a job we really needed him to get.

I want to cry. I have the dress that I am designing for their wedding and I am knitting on it while I wait for the phone in the office to ring.

I want to cry.

I tell myself that the worst is over. I say that he will get on with my company or someplace close and it will be ok.

I want to cry.

I tell myself that I need to be careful because if I get this chenille wet it may run all over the white top I’m wearing and the last thing I need is to get pink/red stains on it.

I want to cry, but.

I will not cry.

Not now anyway.

I will sit quietly and work on the dress.

Later, I will throw away the plastic cup from the restaurant we ate at almost once a week. I had been keeping it on my desk to use at the office.

Later, I will go through my stash and pack up all that ridiculous wool yarn that I bought because he said he liked it when I was surfing Ebay.

Later, I will go out and clean out my car and put the new insurance card in it and meet up with my dearly beloved son so he can go on Monday and retrieve my %@#$% plates.

Later, I will call the new guy who took me to dinner and who in all honesty is a great deal yummier than Don ever thought about being. And as it turns out (I had the worst crush on ten years ago when we were both married to other people) feels the same way about me. I will feel better.

Later.

Missing my baby girl.....

What shall I blog about today?

I have been looking at various knitting blogs. They are all quite good in so many ways. I feel they have attributes far better than ours. For one thing Tori never writes anything. I encourage her to jot down just anything, but alas…. No smoke.

She is pretty well consumed with her wedding. As I think it should be. And she is pretty discouraged that she feels she shouldn’t attend any of my knit meets for fear of insulting my dearest friend. I don’t see her knit so much or even crochet these days. I’m not worried.

Knitting is a pastime for those who have the capacity to sit; an iron ass in riding terms.

I didn’t have one for a while. I barely knitted more than the scarf for an outfit for years. The odd pair of mittens and finally the odd baby blanket. My life for a good while was full of work and life. That sounds silly. But I was all about working two and three jobs. I taught at Our Clay Cabin as a pottery and ceramics instructor and worked construction running jobs with Pap and then did the office thing for our company. I seem to recall I had a decent social life at the time too. Oh, and I was working my way through my first degree back then as well.

I picked up knitting in the odd winter weekends when weather kept me in. I would knock out scarves to accompany a coat or an outfit. I began a shawl for my Grandmother while I was on my back with broken ribs. I didn’t finish that until many years later. (I only stayed in bed for a few days…. I strapped on my other Granny’s old corset and went back to work…)

It wasn’t until after “the summer of weddings” that I returned to knitting in earnest. I had knitted shawls for my bridesmaids… that didn’t count… But in February after our wedding in November, I found out that I didn’t have food poisoning, but was “with child”. A long bout of morning noon and night sickness left me unable to work my long hours and put me in the office and only taking my last two courses in order to get my degree.. I was suffering from some serious Braxton-hicks contractions too. My OBGYN suggested I take up a hobby. My husband gave a rather derisive snort. At the moment I was indulging in a passion for repelling into sinkholes. Not exactly a highly recommended pre-natal sport.

But I took it into my head to make wonderful creations for my unborn. I just knew it would be a boy. I made all sorts of cute little guy things. The only thing that ever got much use was the pastel variegated blanket. I had a girl….

I miss Tori’s enthusiasm over yarn. I miss the knitting meets with her as my sidekick. I miss the hunt for yarn and even little scrabbles over who would get what when we went through it. I am not too worried. Last week she had me buy a half finished blanket and the yarn from Marita so she would have a head start on the blanket for her and Leon’s bed.

She’ll be back with me soon enough.

Under the influences

In our area the is a quaint little yarn shop called: Knitting Under the Influence.

I have never gotten to know Nancy well enough to ask exactly she is under the influence of. She’s an elderly lady with some odd ideas about knitting and money and the price of yarn. I used to go from time to time to covet her stock…. I can’t afford her yarn and I feel deep regret that I can merely look. I did send my son for a pair of glass needles. Yes, glass. They looked good and he wanted to know what to get me. He also picked up a copy of the Yarn Harlot and I have loved it and him ever since.

But, I digress.

I find lately that I am the one who is knitting under the influence.

When I did the buy it now on the 000 and 0000 knitting needles I was under the influence of Kat and her tiny little crochet hooks and her gossamer weight yarn…. All 6000 yards of it….

When I got the entire set of Tunisian crochet hooks I was under the influence of Pam and her simply breathe taking table runners. I bought the hundred pounds of chenille from Marita because I coveted her patterns she is writing. I couldn’t write a pattern to save my hide; but I sure would love to create half the stuff she has. I got the two sets of 14 pairs of addi circular needles when I realized that the lapghan and the two diateemas I had started were going to bottle neck because I only had one set of #10 circular needles and all three projects call for them. I got the ball winder when I realized that there HAD to be an easier way to shift than to drag around commercial size cones of yarn for half my projects. I started buying commercial size cones of yarn when I discovered that the price for one cone divided by the number of yards of yarn made it dirt cheep. (Channel my Granny Rose and her southern belle ways). I really go into it when I figured out pulling three or four colors together to make my own yarns. (Blame my father and his engineering skills…. Why buy a tool if you can make one you like better for less)

I dream about the day when Don and I retire to the cabin in the deep woods. I envision myself knitting the garments we need and that I want to give the kids and grandkids. My choices will be based on what is practical and will fit form and function best. I will stick to the tried and true. I will use only yarn from the sheep and goats that we raise. I will be just like my beloved grandmother Maude. I will only be influenced by need and durability.

Yeah, right.

Of love and Hate.

The knitting magazine is such a funny little thing. Like a favorite piece of jewelry or a great bit of cinema it can be cherished for decades to come. And just like those things it can make you crazy. As when your favorite bracelet snags the crap out of your favorite shawl or the movie you love every last moment of has the hideously misquoted line. There are times when beloved things make you want to scream.

I know I love them. Knitting magazines. Do not get me wrong. I have referred to them as the healthy replacement for cigars and a suitable distraction from thoughts of sex. Divorced remember? Like sex it can get down right frustrating. If not completely discouraging.

Today’s magazines are written for knitters of all ages. I get that. I know I have been knitting since shortly after Mrs. Noah got off the ark and told himself she needed to shear the sheep if he wanted new unders.

They have machine knitting directions. (Insert cold spinal shiver here along with the appropriate cringe).

The articles about the books are handy some times, although personally I prefer to go to a book store find the book, look through it, hold it my hand and see if it generates enough drool before I actually buy it. At which point I will return to the office next Monday and look for it on Ebay.

I actually get the magazines for the patterns.

The patterns are “free”. Well you pay for them when you get the book. Some of those are well written little bits of lust. I read them several times. Perhaps for a couple of months until I feel I have the whole thing in my head. I look through the stash to see if there is a yarn worthy of the pattern in mind. I select it or them (the whole make your own yarn thing).

Other patterns are silly. If you don’t know how to knit a scarf at my stage of the game: give up and go home!

The photos for some are sooo enticing. They look so great on the models. Look good on me or anyone I knit for? Get real! Well maybe Don’s size 00 daughter or my granddaughter Sophie.

And then.

Then there are the ones that must have been proofed by the editor’s third grader or pet chimp. I dare not hazard a guess as to which one. They make no sense. There are parts that are missing and/or just plain grammatically improper. The resulting shawl will look great as a teapot cozy and the sweater that it is supposed to be will look dandy on the cat.

OR, THERE ARE CHARTS.

I do not do charts. I am not talking about Fair Isle or Intarsia charts. I am referring to the stitch charts. I learned with good old EZ (Elizabeth Zimmerman) when she was still printing fresh work in the newspaper.
You are creating a piece of fabric when you knit. You are merely saving yourself the need to cut it out and sew it together. Yes I am a top down knitter if there ever was one. I even have figured out modifying patterns so as to eliminate piecing.
Somewhere out there between EZ and now some fool started making charts. The knitter is relegated to playing follow the bouncing ball. They are also pretty much left to learning to frog it or throwing out expensive yarn and logging wasted time. I quit one knitter’s page in disgust when the third woman posted crying over the $9 a skein yarn she had thrown away because she had botched the chart.
I must simply rebel at the notion that knitting is becoming a lockstep institution.

Where are you E. Z.?

Where are those practical folks who look at a photo and say I want to knit that?

I once carried a picture of a picture of Elvis on my phone for over a year because I wanted to keep the pattern of the sweater he was wearing in the picture so I could replicate it. My best gal pal has recorded bits of shows we were watching so we could get a better look and the knitwear on the actors.

Are there anymore like us? Is anyone out there still knitting the EZ way?