Books!

I realized the other day that I've been doing a great deal of (mostly) non-fiction reading lately, generally in two areas: knitting, and food. And in so doing, I've acquired a number of books, all of which I am very pleased with and am delighted to have in my permanent library (assuming that Tilly doesn't re-enter the book-chewing phase; so far, so good -- knock on wood for me, please). So, I thought that it might be fun to talk about them here once in a while (when, for example, I am knitting lace which is increasingly unphotogenic), and to hear what you all think of them if you have them or have read them, and to get more suggestions for books that I "need". (This last bit could be dangerous, I realize.)

Last week, I got a package (hooray for packages!), which contained a copy of Knitting the Threads of Time: Casting Back to the Heart of Our Craft, by Nora Murphy. I decided that even though it was the middle of the day, I could call it "research" and promptly made myself a cup of tea and sat down to read. I'd rather thought that this might be my kind of book, based on the back cover and the descriptions I'd read, but by page four, she had me hooked. One of the things that I'm most looking forward to when I finally do the knitting survey and get to read everyone's answers is to hear why people knit. And because I've been anticipating that, I've been thinking about why I knit, and about what drew me to knitting (and, I should mention, to spinning and cooking as well). And Nora Murphy pretty much said it for me:

"What these modern artists [that would be us] often don't see are the remnants of an ancient lineage to which they belong. The grandmother, the young mother, and the girls are all descendants of the women around the globe who have transformed fibers into clothing to protect their families for tens of thousands of years. They are the heirs to goddesses who understood that human survival depends on the cloth. These ancients -- from China to Egypt, from Peru to the Pacific Northwest -- understood that clothing contains the power of creation. The modern knitter is no different." (4)

That sense of connection, of reaching back through time as well as across modern space, has always been one of the most compelling aspects of knitting for me. What Murphy does is to weave her research about knitting and weaving and spinning communities across time and space into her own story about knitting a sweater for her son. She faces all of the hurdles that we've all faced at some point in knitting (and heck, in life): techniques that are difficult, parts of the project that don't work out and have to be redone, successes that are sweet. And each of these hurdles becomes an opportunity for her story to reach out to other communities of women working with fiber. Her research has covered communities ranging from the Hmong to the Dakota to women in South America, and more. I love her inclusion of the "New World", which is so often disregarded in more Euro-centric discussions (including a food book that I read recently that had me foaming at the mouth; more on that another time). The fact that she's a grant-writer for, among other communities, several Native American communities local to her home, and that she weaves their stories into this book, just makes it that much more synchronous for me.

I should also mention that the book includes a wonderful bibliography of references. I am a sucker for references, and she cites some of my old favorites, but also mentions a slew of books that I haven't read, and will now have to look for. In that way, this book is like a good knitting project: there is all kinds of fun to be had in the project itself, as in the reading of this book, plus the opportunity to think about where to go next. It was also a peaceful read; Murphy's writing is quiet and contemplative, and it's the kind of book that can be read in small chunks, and then thought about until the next time. So I would say that if anyone is looking for a nice non-fiction book about knitting that reads a lot like fiction and that contains many gems that are food for thought, this is a good one.

Next time it's time for a book post, I'll talk about the lovely book that my brother and brother-in-law sent to me for my birthday (thanks, guys!). It's been on my list for a while, and is an excellent reference book.

Meanwhile, in the interests of honesty, I should mention that my acquisition of books has not, somehow, precluded my acquisition of yarn. This is true in spite of the fact that I've been trying not to bring in more yarn than I knit up. It's not entirely my fault, though (wow, am I pitiful or what?). For example, yesterday I was up at UCLA for a lunchtime talk and as I was leaving, my colleague there (a fellow knitter) told me that I absolutely had to visit her new favorite LYS, which is walking distance from her house. Now, I couldn't disappoint a friend, right? I mean, how do you say no to a thoughtful and enthusiastic suggestion like that? So I swung off the freeway on my way home, and popped into Twist: Yarns of Intrigue (seriously, is that a great name or what?). All I can say is, wow.

It's a tiny little shop absolutely crammed with the most astonishing range of gorgeous yarns I have seen in a long time. I had no idea that lines like Malabrigo and HandMaiden had that many different kinds of yarn (it was probably better that I not know, but there's no putting that genie back in the bottle). And spinning fiber. And Cathy, the wonderfully kind and attentive shop owner, dyes her own fiber and yarn. Wow. I managed to slide out with only two bumps of spinning fiber (one a merino/silk blend, the other a camel/silk blend) and a skein of SeaSilk. Oh, and a button. I'll post pictures next time. But was that not tremendously disciplined? I mean, it's not like I could just walk away without doing my bit to support a wonderful shop like that, right? (Imagine me wearing my self-congratulatory face now.)

But what this means is that there are now two small sweater/shell-like objects that I'm dying to cast on for (since one of those would be a wing-it design, that would involve swatching, which might be the way I soothe the craving for the time being). Plus at least two pairs of socks. Plus the two pairs of socks already OTN. And the Autumn Mantle shawl (which is ticking along quite nicely). Oh, and a baby sweater that I should really finish before the baby in question goes to college. Have I mentioned that this work thing really gets in the way of my knitting time?

Moving on

I finally bit the bullet today and went for it. I've been avoiding the tam all weekend. Yesterday, I went to the farmer's market, cleaned the house, started another batch of bread, did laundry, and knitted on the shawl. (Sweet peas are finally out at the market, and the house smells great.)
So it's not like I wasn't doing things that needed doing, but I must admit that part of the drive to stay busy was that I wasn't quite sure I was ready to commit felting.

This morning, I made cinnamon rolls from the last batch of bread dough.
I also made a loaf from my new batch, which we had for dinner.
All of these are coming from the Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day book, which I checked out from the library after someone else tried it, and I'm so glad I did. I will definitely be buying this book for myself. The bread has turned out really well, and the time investment is minimal; to be fair, the commitment of refrigerator space is not minimal, but I can live with that. I like fresh bread, I like knowing what's in my bread, and I like being able to have fresh bread relatively quickly. And the book has all kinds of other things one can do with the bread dough (for example, those cinnamon rolls up there). Yup, I'll be adding that to my library.

I also worked on the shawl.
I've been wanting to get through the first chart, which I did this morning. That felt like a big hurdle, since the stitch count starts going down after that, which makes me feel like I'm on my way. The lace motif around the edge is just gorgeous.
And once that was done, there were no more excuses. It was time to felt. So I wove in all the ends, boiled up some water, dug out a bowl and rubber gloves, and got started. I scrubbed and kneaded, and shocked the wool by alternating between hot and cold water, and after about 12 or so minutes of work (with lots of stops to see how I was doing along the way), I decided that it seemed like I'd shrunk enough (it had gotten to just over the 12-inch-diameter mark), and it was time to stop. So I wrung it out (and can I tell you how weird it feels to do that to a piece of knitting?), and shaped it to dry. And then I asked Older Daughter to try it on again so we'd have a fair comparison. I think it's much better, and I actually like the texture rather better, too; it's weightier, and feels more windproof, which I'm happy with.
And for comparison.
Is it just me, or is that better? The first one looks much more like a hat, and much less like The Blob. I just need to hem up the ribbed edge, and it'll be done. Does this mean I can cast on for something else?

I think it's time for Plan B

Oy.

How does this happen? OK, I didn't knit a gauge swatch. But seriously (before the finger-shaking starts), who knits a flat gauge swatch for a colorwork hat knit in the round? Not I. I did, however, check my gauge in the ribbed section and as I started the colorwork. I think I must have loosened up. A lot (fear of tight floats?). There has been some discussion on other blogs lately of the ways in which gauge kicks the butts of knitters everywhere, so we'll just leave it at this: gauge will bite you when you least expect it.

Mom, if you're reading, there's about to be a spoiler sort of thing going on here, which means that you should stop reading right now. Seriously. Cease and desist. (The rest of you, please stay; I could use some opinions.)

Mom, you were warned.

So, I asked Older Daughter to model the hat for me so I could take some pictures. I compared those pictures to the pictures of the lovely young thing wearing the hat on the Solsilke site (scroll down, you'll see it). If you compare them, you'll see that the one on the Solsilke site looks like a tam. The one I knitted looks like The Blob That Ate New York.

It looks marginally better from behind (could I ask my mom to walk around backwards? Probably not).
But I kind of think that she could fit a whole armadillo in there along with her head. No?

So, opinions? Is it as bad as I think? (Why do we ask questions to which we know the answers?) If we all agree that it is, the course of action towards which I am leaning strongly is a mild hand felting (lots of control), just to sort of bind it all together and shrink it up a little bit. As an added benefit, this will make it even more wind-proof, which is good on the toasty-warm side of things. Believe it or not, it's only about an inch and a half bigger in diameter than the pattern calls for, but on a head, an inch and a half makes a difference.

Meanwhile, another tragedy hit last night, this time in my spinning world. I was spinning in the kitchen, talking to Rick while the girls did homework, and I dropped (as one will) my Golding drop spindle. On a carpet. Where it broke into little bitty pieces. Irreparably. And there's not much more to be said about that. (Although I could mention the symphony of apologies between me and Rick as we tried to find all the little bitty pieces: (me) "I'm so sorry. I can't believe I broke the absolutely gorgeous fiber tool you got for me." (him) "No, I'm so sorry. I feel like I bought you a cheap fiber tool that breaks at the drop of a hat." Or the drop of a spindle, as the case may be. (me) "But it's not a cheap fiber tool. I love this spindle." *wail*)

In good fiber news, the shawl continues apace. I am most of the way through the first chart, after which the rows will start decreasing, and therefore speeding up. Nothing picture-worthy yet (you know how blobby early lace looks), but the yarn I am using is the exact creamy shade of pale butter, and it's beautiful, and so very soft. I can't imagine not liking this shawl. Once I've got that to the speeding-up stage, I think I'm going to dive into socks for a while. With luck, that will happen tomorrow morning, while Rick and the girls are off at a trail maintenance work party and I have the house to myself for a few hours.

Houston...

Well, we all know how that line ends, don't we?

We may have a problem. I've actually known this since Monday night, but haven't quite brought myself to face it yet. See, the problems involves UFOs. Not the Unfinished Object kind; in fact, the hat is pretty much finished. No, the UFOs I'm talking about are those big huge things flying around in the sky. And folks, if I were to throw that tam up in the air, that's exactly what we'd have. It's huge. I've been kind of knitting along, concentrating on following the chart, and on getting the tension right so there'd be no puckering and no loose floats, and wondering whether I'd finish in time, and whether I'd be left with enough yarn to make a tam for me (that would be a no), and I just never really noticed that I was making a manta ray sized hat until I got to the plain black bit and had time to stop and breathe for a minute.

I knew it was bad when Rick asked me whether I mightn't be able to decrease a bit faster towards the end. Since I'd already been wondering the same thing myself, I decided to go for it, and decreased three stitches (instead of two) at every decrease point every other row. Of course, this brought its own complications, since it means that the top of the hat is just a titch smaller than the bottom. I had two "solutions" in mind, and if they don't work, then there's always Plan B: frog and reknit the decrease section (this doesn't solve the essential hugeness issue, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it; horrible ideas like "slightly felting" come to mind...).

Solution 1: Block it. I don't know where I've picked up the idea that blocking cures all ills (probably from lace knitting; I've gotten so used to counting on the miracles that occur when blocking lace that I'm starting to assume that blocking will always perform miracles), but that was the first plan. So this morning I duly soaked the tam and laid it out to dry. It is so big that I have neither a plate nor a pot lid big enough to block it on (see why I have this nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach?), so I pinched the edges and flattened it out and am waiting to see what happens.
Don't get me wrong. I truly adore the colorwork in this hat. Doesn't it look like stained glass cathedral windows? The top is beautiful, too (although I don't have any pictures right now). But to give you a sense of scale, check it out with a coffee mug next to it.
Is it just me, or is that big? Maybe it's because I don't wear tams?

So you can see in that picture the other part of my potential solution (part 2), which is to fold the entire ribbed bit under, and to treat the first motif of colorwork as the hat band. This helps to even out the top and bottom, and I'm hoping it will solve at least some of the size issue.
And that motif does look nice as a hat band, no? Look at the pretty colors again; they're the perfect distraction from the general ginormous nature of the whole thing.
I'm starting to formulate alternate plans at this stage. Like, get a pattern and some yarn for another tam and give them to my mom and then take them back. Or, maybe, felting it just slightly? That would work, wouldn't it? Because what would I do with a giant UFO of a tam if I can't make this wearable? I'm not the only one having this problem this week; maybe it's an epidemic. Thoughts?

On another topic entirely, I'm still plying up the Bunny and the Beast fiber on my spindle (the first little bit of it, that is; the batt has plenty left to spin). I've been having so much fun playing with my spindles lately, and reading about spindles, that I may have accidentally gotten myself a supported bead spindle (oops). But seriously, how great is this?
It's from The Bellwether, and it came like that, in a little box, with a bowl for spinning in, and a bit of fiber to play with. Of course, I dove right in to try it out before realizing that I should probably spend some time just spinning it to get the hang of that. What I've found is that it's incredibly soothing to have it next to me as I'm reading (and struggling to write) on the computer, just flicking and spinning, flicking and spinning. I haven't even gone back to the fiber yet (part of that, to be fair, is that I'm still not spinning counter-clockwise as well as I'd like). This may have to come to work with me when I go back next fall.

In other knitting news, I'm working on the shawl. Because it's a bottom-up construction, the rows are currently taking me about a half-hour each, so progress is slow and not very photogenic. I'm about to say something that I know you'll all remind me of next fall when I'm griping, but I kind of miss meetings. I don't knit during the day at all now, and I used to get to knit during at least one, and usually two meetings during the week, which was rather nice. Somehow I don't feel justified in calling for a mid-day "meeting" by myself and knitting, so it's just in the evening, which means less shawl progress than I'd like. I know. I'm going to regret ever documenting this sentiment when I'm back in stressful budget meetings in the fall, so please just remember that I probably don't entirely mean it. I just need another excuse to knit during the day, that's all.

A day at the races

That's what yesterday was for us. We were all about the bike racing. We got up and packed some lunches and grabbed the sidewalk chalk and put on the old hiking shoes and headed for Escondido, where the last stage of the Tour of California was taking place. We drove up to the bottom of Lake Wolford Road, and then hiked about a mile and a half up so that we could hang out on an uphill climb, with a view of the road winding below us, and we waited. It wasn't just us, either; lots and lots of people had come out for the race. Some rode up, some hiked. We all got cheered on our way up the hill by people who had come earlier, or who had decided to stop further down. There's something exciting about being with a group of people who are all excited about the same thing. Everyone kept talking about what a thrill it was to see these world-class riders, right here in our backyard. And everyone kept saying how much they hope that the Tour comes back down to San Diego county next year. (And not a few of us commented on what an amazing thing it is in this day and age to be able to get this close to world-class athletes, and for free, even.)

While we waited, Rick and some other parents kept an eye on traffic, and the kids wrote encouraging messages for the riders.
That's me knitting in the background. I'd finished the colorwork portion of the tam, and was able to bring it along since it's all one color from here to the end. (Pictures when it's finished, I promise.)
Older Daughter wanted to know where the women were. I'm afraid I didn't have a very good answer for her. She wrote encouraging messages to Levi Leipheimer and George Hincapie anyway.

We were really close when the riders came by, and the girls shouted and rang bells, and we all cheered.
There's no way those guys had time to read the messages on the road; they were moving way too fast for that. But I hope they enjoyed the intent as they saw the colors fly by under their wheels.

Then we gathered up our gear and schlepped back down the hill for the drive into downtown Escondido. We wanted to see the finish. We ended up hunkering down about 100 meters from the finish line, near the big screen TV that was showing the updates, and kept our fingers crossed for Levi. I knitted, and watched all of the people. And there were a lot of them.
Unreal. The riders said afterward that they'd never seen crowds like they've seen this week outside the grand tours in Europe. And that was in spite of the weather (which, luckily for us, was really nice yesterday). We got the girls right up to the barriers, and they got to watch Schleck and Niboli sprint for the finish. It was great.

Conversation with the three teenage girls behind me:
Teenage girls: Who won?
Me: Frank Schleck took the stage.
TGs: ???
Me: Schleck won today's stage, and Niboli came in second. But Leipheimer won the whole Tour.
TGs: But what about Lance Armstrong?
Me: No, he didn't win this stage or the Tour.
TGs: But isn't he supposed to win something?
Me: No.

They seemed very confused. Heh.

Younger Daughter was tired afterwards.
But she declared that it was all worth it to see the guys whose names she hears all July long every year.

So, not much in knitting news. I am decreasing for the top of the hat, which means it should be done soon. And that means that I've cast on for something new. Since it's knit from the bottom up, the cast on edge has 522 stitches, so there's not too much to show yet, but with luck I'll have something to show for myself in the next few days.

Pearls of wisdom

Well, spurred on by all of the "it's easy" remarks in the comments, I decided to make a go of learning to purl with my left hand. I was also spurred on by a row with lots and lots of knit stitches in one color, followed by one stinkin' purl stitch in the other color, then back to the main color. I knit faster with my right hand, so when possible, I use that hand for whatever color I'm using most in a row. Of course, to date, I have also tried to use that hand for whatever color needed to be purled in a row, but in this particular row, my two organizing criteria came to blows.

The funny thing about learning to do something new like this is how all-body the experience is. You know how it usually is with knitting: the hands go merrily about their business, doing whatever it is that they need to do to get those stitches knitted, and the rest of you can do whatever else it wants -- watch TV, talk, read, whatever. (As an aside, have you ever watched your hands do knitting? It's a pretty remarkable thing to see; they have this little internal script all their own, as if they had little bitty brains in there telling them what to do. Sometimes I do this and realize that I had no idea at all that my hands knitted that way; my left had is all about keeping the stitches moving towards the knit zone - in many ways, it's busier than my right. Who knew? Don't think too hard about it while you watch, though, or it's like trying to pay attention to the way you walk - you start tripping over your own feet.)

So there I was, learning my hardest, and I suddenly realized that I was doing this full-body engagement with the knitting: my tongue was sticking out, my legs were tense, I was twisting my body the way I so wished my stitches would go (rather like a neophyte skier vainly turning her torso the way she wants to go, as if that might convince her legs to follow). It was pretty funny. The long and the short of it is that I did it, the stitches sit on the needle the right way and don't look funny, and it wasn't so bad. I'm still not convinced by those knitters who insist that the knit-to-purl transition is faster when the yarn is held in the left hand, but I can do it when I need to, and that's what I wanted.


I have now made it to the first decrease row, which is great. If I can just get through the colorwork section, I have no doubt that I can work the rest of the hat fairly quickly, so I'll be trying to spend some quality time with it this weekend.

Of course, the other thing I'll be spending some quality time doing this weekend is watching bike racing. The plan for tomorrow stands; we'll try to catch the riders on one of the ascent bits of this last stage of the Tour of California, and then head into Escondido to get as close to the finish as we can. I don't think I'll be bringing this along, unless I finish the colorwork, so I can put some quality time in with the anemone socks instead.

In the meantime, have you all seen the list of teachers Stephanie and Tina have lined up for the Sock Summit? I'm speechless. I would have squealed, dignity notwithstanding, but I was too busy having a heart attack. Insanity. The collective wisdom present at that event is going to be tangible. I'm a little awestruck just thinking of it.

Not too awestruck to make a list of the teachers whom I really, really wish I could take classes with, of course.
Nancy Bush
Pricilla Gibson-Roberts
Anne Hanson
Sivia Harding
Judith MacKenzie McCuin
Lucy Neatby
Tina Newton
Clara Parkes
Stephanie Pearl-McPhee
Meg Swansen
Barbara Walker
Anna Zilboorg

Or is that a little out of hand?

Still knitting

The tam proceeds apace. I am now well into the widest part of the hat, which makes for some interesting shenanigans with all of the knitting and needles and all, but in about eight rows I get to decrease a little, so that's very exciting. I must admit that the three-color rows kind of kick my butt from time to time, especially when there's purling involved. Turns out that I can knit just fine with both hands, so when I have a two-color row, each hand gets a color, and that's good. It's less good if I need to be able to purl with both colors, because I've never learned how to purl when I'm carrying the yarn in my left hand. I could probably find a tutorial online, I know, but when I get fiber time, I feel like I should be working on this hat, rather than playing around online (too much). And then when there are three colors, the manipulations get very wonky. It turns out that, so long as I don't have to purl, I'm actually better at carrying the two colors in my left hand and picking the one I want with my needle, than I am at carrying two in my right hand -- if I do that, I keep having to put one down and pick the other up, and that's time-consuming.

Note to self: must learn to purl whilst holding yarn in left hand.

We've been watching the stages of the Tour of California each evening. We're all very excited about this one -- there are lots of amazing riders, many of whom we've watched in the Tour de France every summer, and, get this, the final stage ends right near here in Escondido! Guess where we're going to be on Sunday? (In fact, the plan at this point -- subject to change, of course -- is to try to catch them at the top of one of the grades going up Palomar, and then to race down to Escondido to catch the finish; this may end up being a bit ambitious, but we'll see.) It's hard to actually "watch" the race on TV while doing stranded colorwork, but I'm doing my best.

In the meantime, I'm trying desperately not to string the beads onto the yarn to start the latest STR installment. I mean, look at those colors.
So pretty. I'm dithering over whether to knit the pattern that came with this installment, or another one by Sivia Harding (both Ravelry links). I'm really leaning toward the latter; there's something about it that I'm finding more inspiring, and it's not like I have any other beaded socks, so I want these to be something very out of the ordinary. But then again, maybe the former pattern works better with this variegated colorway. Opinions? Since I'm working on the anemone socks right now as my travel knitting, I can dither a bit longer.

It's been chilly and rainy these last couple of days, and Younger Daughter's teacher has been wearing the mitts I knitted on the playground in the morning; I'm glad I finished them before this last storm blew in. (Yesterday, the skies opened up on us as I was swimming laps with a friend. The temperature dropped by about 5 degrees -- and let me tell you, that makes a difference when you're wet, swimming outdoors when it's in the 40s is so cold that the pool steams! -- and it finally started to rain so hard that the life guard asked us all to get out of the pool since she couldn't see the bottom anymore; that was OK with us, as it was starting to feel like it might sleet.)
I bet the Tour riders are wishing they had something this warm and cozy.

And I've been spindling again. I'd been missing my spinning a lot, but with this tam deadline looming, I haven't wanted to start something big on one of the wheels. So I'm making time to spin the lovely Bunny and the Beast fiber that I got from Fuzzarelly; I adore this fiber in so many ways. The colors are stunning, and the blend is beautiful and soft, and the batt feels like a puffy cloud (Nancy, is that the right term for this presentation of fiber? I'm still not that up on my spinning vocabulary). If you're looking for a merino/silk/angora blend to spin, I can't recommend this one highly enough. I've been wanting to savor the experience, so I'm spindling it up on my Jenkins turkish spindle.
One of my favorite things about a turkish spindle is the fact that the spun fiber, if wound around the legs correctly, automatically makes a center-pull ball. So when I've spun enough, I can pull out the spindle shaft, then the legs, and ply directly from both ends of the ball (which I particularly love because, among other things, I always end up using every bit of the singles, as I don't have to worry about mismatched bobbins full of singles). The only thing that slows me down with a bottom-whorl spindle like this is the half-hitch I have to tie at the top (I know, weird). I've been wondering for ages whether it's possible to make a small hook, almost like at the top of a crochet hook, at the top of the spindle shaft? I figure there's got to be a reason not to do it, and the reasons I've come up with so far are: it would mess with the balance of the spindle, and/or the top of the spindle shaft is too thin there, and it might split. Maybe the hook wouldn't hold the yarn to spin? But you can use a hook on a top-whorl spindle, so I don't think that's it. (Wanda? Am I on the right track at all?) Either way, I love spinning with this spindle; it's light and easy to use, and last night I took the first ball of singles off and started plying.

I haven't quite figured out what I'm going to knit with the yarn yet. It's so soft and lovely that it could be something near the skin. The girls both adore this purple/pink colorway, so maybe hats for them? Or, what about dream pillows, maybe even embroidered, with bags of buckwheat and lavender inside? So many options... Meanwhile, it's nice to be able to take the spindle with me into different rooms of the house so I can spin socially when I don't feel like working on the tam. Last night, I sat at the bar in the kitchen and kept Rick and Younger Daughter company while they worked on her experiment for the science fair at school.
She is causing erosion by playing with water, sand, and slope. I think she's her father's daughter.