And remember: the sun, it always comes around again.
Friday, December 21, 2012
Solstice
On this longest night of the year, I would like to wish a joyous, bright, and peace-filled solstice to all of you and yours.
And remember: the sun, it always comes around again.
And remember: the sun, it always comes around again.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Not about knitting
By now, I am guessing that we all know about the terrible and tragic events that took place yesterday in Newtown. I imagine that I am not alone in being unable to stop thinking about the families devastated by the violence. I imagine that I am not alone in wondering what we can do differently, as a nation, to ensure that we do not continue to see such horrific headlines - seven such in this year alone.
I am going to do something today that is somewhat atypical of me. I tend to avoid black and white statements. Not just here on the blog, where I know that I have readers with very different perspectives on the world than mine, readers whose perspectives inform their comments here and in the email messages we exchange in ways that I value and deeply appreciate. But also in the rest of my life, where I tend to prefer the richness of layered shades of gray. It is rare that I see an issue on which, no matter how much I turn it over in my head, I cannot find multiple ways to look at it, multiple ways of understanding. Not today. So I will come out and state what I am thinking.
Our nation's stance on gun control is reprehensible.
I know. We're not supposed to talk about it right now. We need to be respectful, and allow time to pass (Kai Ryssdal had something to say about that). But past history suggests that even as I write this, the anti-gun-control lobby is swinging into action, ensuring that its core messages get out: guns don't kill people, people kill people; if we outlaw guns, only outlaws will own guns; the only way to stay safe is to arm the citizenry.
And that just ain't so. Yes, it is people who pull the triggers on guns. But let's be honest. A gun makes it possible to kill more people, more efficiently, from a greater distance. It makes it possible for a person torn by internal anguish or illness to externalize that pain in a maximally-destructive way. A semi-automatic weapon makes it even easier. And let's not even go into the recent spate of concealed-carry laws that have passed across the nation, or the five states that have now made it legal - please read this slowly and carefully and think about it - to carry permitted concealed weapons into K-12 schools. Given the ease with which one can obtain a permit for a concealed-carry weapon, that is nothing short of reprehensible.
And let's think carefully about the suggestion that the solution is for everyone to be armed. Yesterday's victims were all under the age of 10. Should they have been armed? Should their teachers have been carrying guns? Should we all be prepared to respond at any moment should
a person assault us with deadly force?
Let me say clearly: that is not the kind of society in which I wish to live. And I think that if people really thought about it, thought about what it would be like to walk down a street where people openly carried weapons of mass destruction (because a semi-automatic weapon is exactly that), on the alert and prepared to use them at any time, I can't be the only person whose heart cries out at the thought. When we look at other nations whose citizenry carry and wield weapons against one another in such a casual way, we tsk and talk about their total disregard for human life, shake our heads at the barbarity and lack of civilization in those poor nations. When we talk about doing it here, we say it is the exercise of our Second Amendment rights. In spite of the total disregard for the initial clause of that amendment, which references the need for "a well regulated militia". What we have here is, by no stretch of the imagination, a well regulated anything. It is legalized terrorism.
I think that children should have the right to go to school, and to come home again in the afternoon. And I want to say, out loud and firmly, that I believe with all of my heart that that right supersedes anyone's right to own semi-automatic weapons. Period. Under any circumstances. I could go further, but to my very great dismay, that already seems to be a contentious statement.
We should be grief-stricken as a nation, yes. Our hearts and minds should be with families who, today, are grappling with a reality that is everyone's worst nightmare.
But we should also be outraged. We should be incandescent with it. And we should shine that bright light on other paths, other futures, for us as a people.
Because if not now, when?
I am going to do something today that is somewhat atypical of me. I tend to avoid black and white statements. Not just here on the blog, where I know that I have readers with very different perspectives on the world than mine, readers whose perspectives inform their comments here and in the email messages we exchange in ways that I value and deeply appreciate. But also in the rest of my life, where I tend to prefer the richness of layered shades of gray. It is rare that I see an issue on which, no matter how much I turn it over in my head, I cannot find multiple ways to look at it, multiple ways of understanding. Not today. So I will come out and state what I am thinking.
Our nation's stance on gun control is reprehensible.
I know. We're not supposed to talk about it right now. We need to be respectful, and allow time to pass (Kai Ryssdal had something to say about that). But past history suggests that even as I write this, the anti-gun-control lobby is swinging into action, ensuring that its core messages get out: guns don't kill people, people kill people; if we outlaw guns, only outlaws will own guns; the only way to stay safe is to arm the citizenry.
And that just ain't so. Yes, it is people who pull the triggers on guns. But let's be honest. A gun makes it possible to kill more people, more efficiently, from a greater distance. It makes it possible for a person torn by internal anguish or illness to externalize that pain in a maximally-destructive way. A semi-automatic weapon makes it even easier. And let's not even go into the recent spate of concealed-carry laws that have passed across the nation, or the five states that have now made it legal - please read this slowly and carefully and think about it - to carry permitted concealed weapons into K-12 schools. Given the ease with which one can obtain a permit for a concealed-carry weapon, that is nothing short of reprehensible.
And let's think carefully about the suggestion that the solution is for everyone to be armed. Yesterday's victims were all under the age of 10. Should they have been armed? Should their teachers have been carrying guns? Should we all be prepared to respond at any moment should
a person assault us with deadly force?
Let me say clearly: that is not the kind of society in which I wish to live. And I think that if people really thought about it, thought about what it would be like to walk down a street where people openly carried weapons of mass destruction (because a semi-automatic weapon is exactly that), on the alert and prepared to use them at any time, I can't be the only person whose heart cries out at the thought. When we look at other nations whose citizenry carry and wield weapons against one another in such a casual way, we tsk and talk about their total disregard for human life, shake our heads at the barbarity and lack of civilization in those poor nations. When we talk about doing it here, we say it is the exercise of our Second Amendment rights. In spite of the total disregard for the initial clause of that amendment, which references the need for "a well regulated militia". What we have here is, by no stretch of the imagination, a well regulated anything. It is legalized terrorism.
I think that children should have the right to go to school, and to come home again in the afternoon. And I want to say, out loud and firmly, that I believe with all of my heart that that right supersedes anyone's right to own semi-automatic weapons. Period. Under any circumstances. I could go further, but to my very great dismay, that already seems to be a contentious statement.
We should be grief-stricken as a nation, yes. Our hearts and minds should be with families who, today, are grappling with a reality that is everyone's worst nightmare.
But we should also be outraged. We should be incandescent with it. And we should shine that bright light on other paths, other futures, for us as a people.
Because if not now, when?
Wednesday, December 5, 2012
Fly-by
OK, only three days off from my intended post. I keep meaning to stick to posting on Sundays, but this last Sunday I spent getting a lot of pre-holiday shopping done (mostly the kinds of things that need to be made in advance or sent in advance), plus finding a pair of black slacks for an event that Older Daughter had to attend last night - can I just say that it's harder to find black slacks than you might think it should be at this time of the year? (Can I also just say that it is perhaps time for Older Daughter to stop growing? 5'8"+ seems fairly reasonable to me, it's not like I'm asking her to stay at my 5'(ahemalmost)3", right? Surely she could just take up coffee drinking like a normal teenager and we'll call it good?)
I've been postponing posting under the theory that it would be nice to have pictures of my finished and ongoing knitting, but I also realize that the chance of me and my camera and my knitting all ending up in the same place at the same time is pretty small right now, so I'm going with what I've got. I did finish the second Wine Dark Sea sweater, so I'll try to get some pictures of that this weekend to post. I also cast on for a pair of socks for Younger Daughter for Christmas, and I'm almost done with the first one. They're just plain old socks, out of very colorful yarn (and, therefore, mismatched), just the way she likes them. Holiday knitting this year will be minimal - socks for Younger Daughter, a hat (more on that in a moment) for Rick, and the beginnings of a sweater for Older Daughter (I got the yarn, and as she has not yet picked the pattern, I figure I'm not responsible for not having cast on yet, right?).
As to the hat, that will be knitted out of these two skeins of happy handspun.
Isn't that pretty? That is spun from some gorgeous fiber, hand-dyed by Erica, who does amazing things with color (which you can't see well, in that washed-out photo, but more this weekend, I promise). I liked the colors so much in this one that I didn't want the whole thing to turn out barber-poled - I wanted some of those colors to stay true, so I tried something I've never done before. I spun the singles woolen, and then I chain-plied the whole thing. I am delighted with the way it turned out. This is probably the squishiest yarn I have ever spun - the skeins feel like marshmallows. The colors will look very nice with Rick's eyes, so I offered to knit him a hat out of it. He has requested something warm enough to ski in on cold days, so that's the plan. The hat will need to be double-layered, but he suggested that he would be OK if the lining were knitted out of something else, in case there's not enough yardage. I'll wind it up tonight and see what it looks like, but I really can't wait to cast on for this one.
Other than that, I've been spending as much time as possible outdoors. A friend (who shall remain unnamed but not blameless) turned me on to Instagram, so I keep posting pictures of all the outdoor time I'm getting - something to do with my constant phone photos! (If anyone else is on Instagram and doesn't mind a daily dose of outdoorness - or an every-other-daily-dose - I'm Knitting Linguist there, too.)
The ocean at La Jolla on Saturday had me dying to cast on for a sweater in the seafoam green yarn I got myself last summer. Soon...soon...
But the most exciting event of the last little while was last night. A few years ago, a dear friend of mine told me about an amazing program here in San Diego, called BEWiSE (Better Education for Women in Science and Engineering, I believe), whose goal is to get girls involved in science and technology earlier in life, so that they're comfortable pursuing careers in those fields later. Older Daughter applied and got in, and since then, she has had opportunity after opportunity to participate in truly amazing workshops. This August, the best one of all came along, and she applied and was accepted. Fifteen girls are (get this) building a micro-lab which will go up to the International Space Station. Inside that lab is an experiment that they have designed and implemented - the goal being to observe some phenomenon in micro-gravity. There are only a handful of other schools doing this. The girls decided to grow alum crystals to observe the effects of micro-gravity on the structure of the crystals, and they're working on their prototype lab right now (these labs are 2 x 2 x 4 inches). It will be sent up to the ISS in March, and when it comes back down, they'll be able to examine the crystals under an electron microscope.
Dudes. She's designing and implementing an experiment that's going into SPACE. For real. Does it get cooler than that?
Apparently, it kind of does, because last night, the organizers of this project hosted a celebration event at UCSD's CALIT2, where not only did all sort of people who are heavily involved in advocating for science and technology education in the US come to speak, but there was a member of the astronaut corps, Dr. Yvonne Cagle, an amazing woman who spent 15 years as an MD before realizing that her dream was to be an astronaut, and then pursuing that dream. That woman stood up in front of our girls and called them an inspiration. I think it was a mutual admiration society, because you could see them light up when she stood up there - a woman who had gone before them, paving that road and making it a little clearer, a little easier to walk.
I don't even come close to having the words to say how thrilling it was, how proud I am of my daughter, and, when I saw those pictures of that astonishingly beautiful structure out there in space, built by people of often-warring nations, together, how much hope I have for humanity.
I've been postponing posting under the theory that it would be nice to have pictures of my finished and ongoing knitting, but I also realize that the chance of me and my camera and my knitting all ending up in the same place at the same time is pretty small right now, so I'm going with what I've got. I did finish the second Wine Dark Sea sweater, so I'll try to get some pictures of that this weekend to post. I also cast on for a pair of socks for Younger Daughter for Christmas, and I'm almost done with the first one. They're just plain old socks, out of very colorful yarn (and, therefore, mismatched), just the way she likes them. Holiday knitting this year will be minimal - socks for Younger Daughter, a hat (more on that in a moment) for Rick, and the beginnings of a sweater for Older Daughter (I got the yarn, and as she has not yet picked the pattern, I figure I'm not responsible for not having cast on yet, right?).
As to the hat, that will be knitted out of these two skeins of happy handspun.
Other than that, I've been spending as much time as possible outdoors. A friend (who shall remain unnamed but not blameless) turned me on to Instagram, so I keep posting pictures of all the outdoor time I'm getting - something to do with my constant phone photos! (If anyone else is on Instagram and doesn't mind a daily dose of outdoorness - or an every-other-daily-dose - I'm Knitting Linguist there, too.)
But the most exciting event of the last little while was last night. A few years ago, a dear friend of mine told me about an amazing program here in San Diego, called BEWiSE (Better Education for Women in Science and Engineering, I believe), whose goal is to get girls involved in science and technology earlier in life, so that they're comfortable pursuing careers in those fields later. Older Daughter applied and got in, and since then, she has had opportunity after opportunity to participate in truly amazing workshops. This August, the best one of all came along, and she applied and was accepted. Fifteen girls are (get this) building a micro-lab which will go up to the International Space Station. Inside that lab is an experiment that they have designed and implemented - the goal being to observe some phenomenon in micro-gravity. There are only a handful of other schools doing this. The girls decided to grow alum crystals to observe the effects of micro-gravity on the structure of the crystals, and they're working on their prototype lab right now (these labs are 2 x 2 x 4 inches). It will be sent up to the ISS in March, and when it comes back down, they'll be able to examine the crystals under an electron microscope.
Dudes. She's designing and implementing an experiment that's going into SPACE. For real. Does it get cooler than that?
Apparently, it kind of does, because last night, the organizers of this project hosted a celebration event at UCSD's CALIT2, where not only did all sort of people who are heavily involved in advocating for science and technology education in the US come to speak, but there was a member of the astronaut corps, Dr. Yvonne Cagle, an amazing woman who spent 15 years as an MD before realizing that her dream was to be an astronaut, and then pursuing that dream. That woman stood up in front of our girls and called them an inspiration. I think it was a mutual admiration society, because you could see them light up when she stood up there - a woman who had gone before them, paving that road and making it a little clearer, a little easier to walk.
I don't even come close to having the words to say how thrilling it was, how proud I am of my daughter, and, when I saw those pictures of that astonishingly beautiful structure out there in space, built by people of often-warring nations, together, how much hope I have for humanity.
Friday, November 23, 2012
That time of year
That time of year came around again and kicked me in the rear end, as it always does. November is, I think, probably my most crazy month of the year, in no small part because my big academic conference always falls the week before Thanksgiving, so I spend the last two weeks of October putting my paper together for the panel discussant, then early November putting together my presentation and my report for the executive board of my conference section, and then mid-November getting to and from the conference (and surviving it), followed immediately by Thanksgiving (17 people to cook for this year, whew!). In order to get everything done, I am either working my way through the list of things that need to happen for me to make it to today, or, when I get a spare moment, I can decide whether I'm going to spend it with my family, or sleeping, or on the internet. Guess which two I tend to choose? Thus, blog silence.
The sad thing is, I find myself writing posts in my head, while I'm doing things like driving through the Mojave at dawn on my way to Tehachapi (that is something that only happens at very specific times of the year - this time, it was the day before the time change, when the sun was still coming up late enough for me to leave the house at 5:30 and get into the desert - an hour and a half away - before the sun could come up over the horizon). That may become a post someday, actually. Or while working my way through the heel of one of the pairs of socks I finished; that, too, should be a post. But as I said, during this month, it's either do things or write about them, and the doing had to come first.
Speaking of doing, I have been doing knitting.
Done.
And done.
(Since these were knitted toe-up, I used a reverse heel-flap, with an eye-of-partridge stitch; I like the way those turn out.)
And done.
Almost done.
(I know; it would have been better if I could have said: Done. But the stitches are picked up for the second sleeve, so I'm on the home stretch.)
Quick information about these. That first pair of socks (as you no doubt know by this time) is my second pair of Silk Road Socks, my own pattern, which I hope to write up sooner rather than later, now that I have finished knitting them again. The sole of the second one is different than the first, but I think that it will be clearer to knit (I hope). It means that I can't submit these to the county fair next year (which I'd thought of doing), since they don't match, but I can live with that (because I'm not going to knit a fifth one of these). They are knitted out of Spud and Chloe Fine, a wool/silk blend with a lovely sheen.
The second pair of socks is also my own pattern, knitted out of Zen Yarn Garden Serenity 20, which I love. I have worn them once, and you may be able to see from the shot of the heel that this yarn definitely shows abrasion, but that's to be expected of a yarn that is a blend of merino/cashmere/nylon (70/20/10). I can live with that. It gives the squishy luxurious feeling that I wanted for these socks, of which I'd like to do a series. This pair is called Long John Socks I, and I'm hoping to get this pattern written up, too (which may happen faster than the other; this is easier to put together). The basic idea for this is a series of socks all knit toe-up in a squishy stitch pattern, to maximize a skein of luscious yarn. I've already gotten another skein of the Serenity 20 to start thinking about the next one (at my LYS's Black Friday sale today; the only Black Friday shopping I can imagine doing - and that was crazy enough!).
The hat is a pattern from the latest KnitScene (the Lucy Hat), knitted out of Malabrigo Arroyo, which is another yarn I love. I did make one modification to this pattern, which you can't see in the picture above - I'll try to get another one for my next post; I picked up stitches on the inside of the hat from the purl bumps left by the color change, and knitted a lining layer so that this would be warmer than it would have been (especially since I was using a finer yarn than that called for in the pattern). I don't have my needle size and yarn colors up on Ravelry yet, but I do know that I used the needle size called for in the pattern. I really love this hat, and wore it a ton in San Francisco (where I was for my conference; more on that in another post).
Other things from this month?
Walking on the beach: done.
Spotting starfish: done.
Admiring a hermit crab's home: done.
Spending time with my family: done.
More later, now that I've made it through my crazy month, but for now let me just say happy Thanksgiving to all of you - I hope that your day was as good as mine, a day of plenty, both in food (fine enough), and the company of those you love (the best).
The sad thing is, I find myself writing posts in my head, while I'm doing things like driving through the Mojave at dawn on my way to Tehachapi (that is something that only happens at very specific times of the year - this time, it was the day before the time change, when the sun was still coming up late enough for me to leave the house at 5:30 and get into the desert - an hour and a half away - before the sun could come up over the horizon). That may become a post someday, actually. Or while working my way through the heel of one of the pairs of socks I finished; that, too, should be a post. But as I said, during this month, it's either do things or write about them, and the doing had to come first.
Speaking of doing, I have been doing knitting.
Done.
Quick information about these. That first pair of socks (as you no doubt know by this time) is my second pair of Silk Road Socks, my own pattern, which I hope to write up sooner rather than later, now that I have finished knitting them again. The sole of the second one is different than the first, but I think that it will be clearer to knit (I hope). It means that I can't submit these to the county fair next year (which I'd thought of doing), since they don't match, but I can live with that (because I'm not going to knit a fifth one of these). They are knitted out of Spud and Chloe Fine, a wool/silk blend with a lovely sheen.
The second pair of socks is also my own pattern, knitted out of Zen Yarn Garden Serenity 20, which I love. I have worn them once, and you may be able to see from the shot of the heel that this yarn definitely shows abrasion, but that's to be expected of a yarn that is a blend of merino/cashmere/nylon (70/20/10). I can live with that. It gives the squishy luxurious feeling that I wanted for these socks, of which I'd like to do a series. This pair is called Long John Socks I, and I'm hoping to get this pattern written up, too (which may happen faster than the other; this is easier to put together). The basic idea for this is a series of socks all knit toe-up in a squishy stitch pattern, to maximize a skein of luscious yarn. I've already gotten another skein of the Serenity 20 to start thinking about the next one (at my LYS's Black Friday sale today; the only Black Friday shopping I can imagine doing - and that was crazy enough!).
The hat is a pattern from the latest KnitScene (the Lucy Hat), knitted out of Malabrigo Arroyo, which is another yarn I love. I did make one modification to this pattern, which you can't see in the picture above - I'll try to get another one for my next post; I picked up stitches on the inside of the hat from the purl bumps left by the color change, and knitted a lining layer so that this would be warmer than it would have been (especially since I was using a finer yarn than that called for in the pattern). I don't have my needle size and yarn colors up on Ravelry yet, but I do know that I used the needle size called for in the pattern. I really love this hat, and wore it a ton in San Francisco (where I was for my conference; more on that in another post).
Other things from this month?
Walking on the beach: done.
More later, now that I've made it through my crazy month, but for now let me just say happy Thanksgiving to all of you - I hope that your day was as good as mine, a day of plenty, both in food (fine enough), and the company of those you love (the best).
Wednesday, October 31, 2012
Another f-word - fog!
Thank you all for the many interesting and thoughtful comments on my last post. I truly enjoyed reading each one of them, and I wrote back to everyone for whom I have an email address (I think one of the best bits about writing a blog is the follow-up conversations). (And Polly - thanks for sending your students this way; if any of them want to comment, they should please feel free, and/or they are welcome to send me an email. I wonder if it mightn't be a thought to have our classes have a virtual conversation sometime? I'd love to know more about your class!)
But in the meantime, today I finally got a bit of another of my favorite f-words - fog. I really, really love fog, and I have been lamenting the total lack thereof around here. While the East Coast was getting slammed with Sandy (I hope everyone back there has come through the storm with a minimum of damage, and that you and your loved ones are all safe), we got Santa Anas. Not nearly so frightening (unless they come with fires, but this time we got lucky), but it does mean wild temperature swings and very very dry air, all of which makes me cranky. (There's just something weird about going to swim at 6:15, when it's 48 degrees - outdoor pool, btw - and then, by noon, it's 78+ degrees, and the air conditioning is blasting in the building. Dudes, how do you even dress for that?)(OK, I know the answer - layers.)
But this morning when I woke up, the world was blanketed in fog. Tilly and I went for our weekly walk at our local open space, about which I've written before, and today it was a new and mysterious world.
I had already determined to try to add another leg onto my usual walk, and I found myself utterly disoriented in the fog. This little open space is usually dominated visually by what everyone calls "the mountain" (not a mountain) - an old volcanic core that sits in the middle of a network of trails like the one in that picture. And I couldn't see it at all - it was invisible in the fog. I wandered along my path, utterly sure that I knew exactly where I was, until I came out in a place that didn't seem familiar at all. It took me a long moment to realize that I was back where I'd started, heading for the creek crossing from the other direction - everything looked weirdly familiar and utterly strange at the same time. There's a metaphor in there somewhere, I'm sure.
It's funny how the fog, by blocking those eye-catching long views, calls attention to the immediate and intimate. Bird-song and laughter were all there to hear, even when the noise-makers were invisible. I could smell the rotting tules - the water levels are low, and it's that time of year. Would I notice that, if I could see the ocean in the distance?
And there were beautifully skeletal plants, reminding me that it's Samhain - time to step back and notice that the world is turning again, heading for the dark time, when things rest quietly, when decay makes room for new growth in the spring.
This always feels to me like it should a quiet, contemplative moment in the year's cycle - odd, as it comes right as everyone seems to be gearing up for holiday madness (already!), and I find myself wanting to sit, just quietly, rather like Ferdinand in his field, contemplating the cyclic nature of change. Somehow this time of the year, my motto goes from being "You can't win for trying", to "Plus ca change, plus c'est la meme chose." (I should note that, in this mood, I tend not to mean it in its wry sense, but instead in the sense that, underneath all the hubbub and busyness and surface changes that catch our eyes from day to day, there is a deeper, longer stillness and coming-around-again that I find comforting.)
I'm knitting some things that feel like foggy weather does to me, too, appropriately enough. I've finished the body of the Wine Dark Sea II sweater (I'm wearing the old, baggy, comfy one today).
I'm worried that it might be too short, so I'm blocking it, to find out for sure. If it is, I'm going to rip it back and add a few inches. I really want to get this one exactly right. I am, though, very happy with the neckline shaping - I never seem to get v-necks right, but this one fits just the way I wanted it to.
The edging has turned out well, too!
And I'm working on a new pair of socks. (As a quick update, I turned the heel on the Silk Road socks, only to find out that I'd made an assumption - and you know what they say about assumptions - that was wrong. So some ripping back is in order. More on that next time.)
These are, I think, going to be part of a series of socks that I'm calling in my head Longjohns Socks. Basically, what I wanted from these is a pair of socks that feel like pulling on longjohns - warm and comfy and comforting. They're knitted from the toe up, so as not to waste an inch of this yarn (Zen Yarn Garden cashmere sock), with my happy bottom-of-the-foot eye-of-partridge heel flap, and, for this pair, a double moss stitch leg. I've found a couple of other stitch patterns that I think would suit themselves to this kind of sock, so I'll probably knit another few pairs in the series, with some of the "luxury" skeins of sock yarn that I've stashed away for "special". I might even write these up and put them on Ravelry - do you think this is the sort of thing more people than I would like?
I should mention that this mid-week post came courtesy of a weekend working in Northern California (language revitalization trainings) last weekend, and another trip to Tehachapi this coming weekend. I tend not to have much energy for posting when I travel that much, so I thought I'd better grab the chance while I could. So I probably won't post again until mid-next week at the soonest. In the meantime, I wish you all a contemplative Samhain.
But in the meantime, today I finally got a bit of another of my favorite f-words - fog. I really, really love fog, and I have been lamenting the total lack thereof around here. While the East Coast was getting slammed with Sandy (I hope everyone back there has come through the storm with a minimum of damage, and that you and your loved ones are all safe), we got Santa Anas. Not nearly so frightening (unless they come with fires, but this time we got lucky), but it does mean wild temperature swings and very very dry air, all of which makes me cranky. (There's just something weird about going to swim at 6:15, when it's 48 degrees - outdoor pool, btw - and then, by noon, it's 78+ degrees, and the air conditioning is blasting in the building. Dudes, how do you even dress for that?)(OK, I know the answer - layers.)
But this morning when I woke up, the world was blanketed in fog. Tilly and I went for our weekly walk at our local open space, about which I've written before, and today it was a new and mysterious world.
I'm knitting some things that feel like foggy weather does to me, too, appropriately enough. I've finished the body of the Wine Dark Sea II sweater (I'm wearing the old, baggy, comfy one today).
And I'm working on a new pair of socks. (As a quick update, I turned the heel on the Silk Road socks, only to find out that I'd made an assumption - and you know what they say about assumptions - that was wrong. So some ripping back is in order. More on that next time.)
I should mention that this mid-week post came courtesy of a weekend working in Northern California (language revitalization trainings) last weekend, and another trip to Tehachapi this coming weekend. I tend not to have much energy for posting when I travel that much, so I thought I'd better grab the chance while I could. So I probably won't post again until mid-next week at the soonest. In the meantime, I wish you all a contemplative Samhain.
Saturday, October 20, 2012
The F word
No, not that f-word, people. The other one. The one that should have come up during the Presidential debates this past week. The one that people seem to avoid like the plague - and as a linguist, I always find it intriguing when people do that, and then I wonder why, and then I write posts like this one. You know the word I'm talking about: feminism. For those of you who are less in the mood for that kind of contemplation, there is knitting content in this post (ironically, in a post-modern sort of way); please feel free to skip to the end for that.
I don't know how many of you watched the debate this week, but at one point, one of the questions brought up something near and dear to my heart: a woman asked what each of the candidates would do in the next four years about the fact that women (still) earn about $.73 to the dollar compared to men (for doing the same jobs with the same qualifications, she didn't say, but I will). There are a couple of things to talk about, vis-a-vis the answers.
Thing the first is the one that's been all over the interwebs ever since: Mitt Romney's answer and his (now-infamous, and probably never-to-be-lived-down) binders full of women. As soon as he said that, I thought - this one's sticking, and as a linguist, of course, I find it interesting to think about why that is. What is it about that part of his answer that is so utterly meme-able? There were so many other things about his answer that I found noticeable that didn't take to the airwaves in the same way. For example, when he said that he received no female candidates for posts in his cabinet, the question I think he should have been asking right away is not, how do I get binders full of women to ask to apply, but instead, why aren't women applying to work in my cabinet? What message am I failing to get across that makes women feel that they don't want to apply? What broader social forces are at play that make women not apply to positions of power more generally? What is going on here? But OK, he didn't. The next issue with that answer was the fact that his protestations that he knows qualified women sounded all too much like a recognized trope when a person with prejudice is confronted with that prejudice, and they respond: "But I have lots of friends who are X". That phrase usually doesn't mean what it sounds like it means.
The binders full of women, though, that's what struck a nerve (judging by the amount of space devoted to it on social networks). Interestingly, it's the way that it's been used to mock another powerful man altogether that I think gets to the heart of the problem with it. I'm not sure if any of you have seen the Bill Clinton "I heard there's a binder full of women!" pictures going around (I've seen at least three iterations, and heard about several more), but it seems to me that those point to the issue here: it's about objectification. It's about the idea that women are interchangeable, available, tokens. Because the binders full of women don't get at the real problem - why women didn't apply, why women are still paid less than 75% of what men are paid, why there wasn't a woman standing on that stage answering those questions - and because those binders don't get at answers to those questions, they seem far too much like a pat on the head, a brushing-aside or covering-over of a very large problem.
Because let's be honest - neither candidate answered the question worth a damn. Both of them talked about access, about the idea that women should have access to jobs. They're right, women should. But if we end up doing the jobs that men do for 25% less, then do we really have access to the "same" jobs, with the same benefits? Does that really address the question of why women are considered to be 25% less valuable in the workplace? Or of why that number has been going down again in recent years, rather than up? Does it address the fact that most single-parent homes with children in them are headed by women, who then must support those families on 3/4 of the income their male counterparts would get for working as hard as they do? Does it address the fact that when women do, finally, begin to get access to a particular career, that career loses prestige and, concomitantly, pay? (If you think I'm wrong, look at the difference in pay in medical careers like family practice as opposed to surgery - still male-dominated; or look at what's happened to professorial pay since women gained more, although still not equal, access to the halls of academia; look at the differences in pay between the areas of academia that have more women in them relative to those that are still male-dominated.)
Speaking only as an N of 1, I have seen this same thing happen to me. A year after I was hired in my current job, my department hired a male professor who had not yet completed his Ph.D. He earned more than I did, even though I had both the degree and more years of experience in the classroom. More recently, my department hired another male professor who is, as yet, untenured (note: I have held my job for nearly eleven years, have had tenure for five years, and I am currently the chair of my department); he is paid almost exactly what I am paid. Both men are valuable colleagues, worth their pay. But why are my experience and skill (and my degree), not worth more? I have published as much, earned as many awards, taken as little time on leave, etc etc. But I am not worth as much. And for anyone who would say that money isn't everything - that is true in a philosophical and existential sense, but in a capitalist society (which, for our sins, we are), money is one of the most central ways by which we judge, and reward, our perceived sense of what a person is worth in a particular role. More practically, money is how we feed ourselves and our families, clothe our children, give them opportunities, help others in society. It might be nice to think it doesn't matter, but it does.
So, what I want to know is, why did neither of those presidential candidates talk about (here it is, brace yourselves) feminism? About the idea that there should be a social movement that advocates for women, and that continues to do so until women are treated as equal citizens, and that people of both sexes should proudly sign on to such a movement? Why did neither of them mention the Equal Rights Amendment - you know, the one that would acknowledge, under the law, that women are the equal of men? Why do people insist that there is no point in such a thing, that women are already equal to men under the law? If that were true, why is it that women still do not have the opportunities that men have? Why are we treated differently? I have two daughters, and I hate like hell the thought that when they grow up, they will still be part of a world that values them less, that tells them that their roles as mothers are critical to our society but then says that their roles as mothers makes them less-valuable people (and it is still true that mothers are paid even less than their single counterparts, while fathers are paid more than their single counterparts - in other words, parenthood makes men good risks, but women bad risks in the workplace).
Dudes. I am a feminist. That doesn't mean that I hate men. It doesn't mean that I think all women should burn their bras, neglect their children, go into the workforce, be the same as one another, create a society in which women dominate men and abuse power. It does mean that I think that women should have access to a full range of options for personhood, that they should be paid equally to men when the option that they choose is to enter the workforce. I also think that women who stay at home to raise their children should have access to social security earned during the years they are at home with dependent children, in their own names (rather than having to depend on their husbands' - or, worse yet, trying to access some portion of their ex-husbands'), and, maybe, even access to affordable healthcare? Call me a socialist, but if we tell people that one important path a person could choose to take is to be home with their children for part of their childrens' growing up, then we should put our money where our mouths are. (Note: I think stay-at-home dads should have the same benefits.)
I don't think that's going to happen until a couple of other important things happen first. One of those is for women to stop back-biting when their compatriots choose a different path than their own. I work outside the home, and have since my girls were little. That does not make me a bad mother. It doesn't make my husband a hen-pecked man whose masculinity I have taken away by refusing to allow him to provide for his family alone (I have been told both things more than once). A woman who stays home with her children is not an anti-feminist by definition. Breast-feeding neither makes a woman a great mother, nor a bad feminist. Not breast-feeding neither makes a woman a bad mother, nor a great feminist. When did we get so judgmental of one another? When did we decide there was only one path to successful womanhood?
The second thing is that men need to get in on this game. Until fathers are willing to demand paternity leave in equal amounts to women's maternity leave, until they are willing to say, "I need flexible hours so that I can get home with a sick kid if I have to, so I can leave at 5 and get the kids to soccer, so I can leave earlier two days a week since the kids' #$%*!! schools insist on having early-release days, as if 2:30 weren't already a ludicrously early hour to get out of school", until that happens, workplaces will still think of mothers as drains on company resources. Until women are paid equally to men, families will be stuck in a cycle of protecting a father's job more than a mother's, because he brings more back to the family. Men have to stop buying into the (empirically untrue - go ahead and do the research, I have) story that men aren't nurturers, they aren't good at raising children, they don't "bond" with their children the way mothers do, so they don't "like" being with their kids the way mothers do; they have to stop allowing society to cut them off from the pleasures of living a balanced life.
I realize that my rant here has focused on families, on women who have chosen the path of motherhood, and that the choice not to have children at all is yet another one of those equally-legitimate but all-to-often-criticized options that women should have access to. I also haven't talked about the issue of double jeopardy, women who face both sexism and racism in trying to access their right to the options that should be available to everyone. I am not ignoring these things because they're not important, but because I was mostly focusing on my personal experience here - I'd love to get comments from folks who are dealing with those things as well, to bring voices of experience to the table here - middle-class white working motherhood isn't the only story (it isn't even the majority story), it's just the one that I know best.
Basically, it's time to be talking about this (again). It's always been time, but maybe the total non-answers to that question suggest that we need to get a little louder. Maybe we even need to think about doing what Iceland did a few elections ago - to say that men have had their chance, kick them all out of government, and elect women instead. Radical, I know - kind of fun to imagine, though, maybe?
So yes, I am a feminist. AND I knit (not BUT I knit, please note). And I am knitting, in fact. I knitted all the way through that debate on Tuesday, and I ended up with these (started fairly recently, out of a need for some quick success):
Those are Plain Jhaynes, a pattern of Anne's that I somehow have missed all these years, made specially for using up a little bit of special yarn. As soon as I saw them, I realized that they were the perfect pattern for the mitts I've been wanting to make to go with my babushka scarves, which, much as I love them, use a skein and a bit of some very nice yarn, leaving quite a bit to be used up in other ways. This yarn is Jade Sapphire silk/cashmere 2-ply, and I love it. The two babushkas I've knitted (this one and a blue one) are probably my most-worn bits of knitting, and I'm really glad now to have mitts to go with one of them. So, to recap, these mitts are Plain Jhaynes (Anne Hanson), knitted on size one (Signature - how I do love my Signatures) dpns, out of Jade Sapphire silk/cashmere 2-ply, in a size medium. They are meant to fit fairly snugly, to add just that perfect bit of warmth without getting in the way of, say, typing, and I think they're going to do the job perfectly.
The other thing I've been working on this week is my new version of the Wine Dark Sea sweater. You may remember from the old version (here, on Rav) that I knitted years ago, that I aimed for a sweat-shirty loose fit. Well, I got it. In looking at my old pattern notes and measurements, and comparing them to the measurements I tend to use now for sweaters, I realize that I built in about eight inches of positive ease (!!) when I designed and knitted the first one. I ended up with quite a bit of yarn left over after I knitted it (my very favorite, can't-get-enough-of-it yarn, Briar Rose Sea Pearl), and after weighing and doing some math, I decided I had enough left to knit another, more fitted (less than 1 inch of positive ease) version. So I put together some notes for myself, and did some math based on my gauge swatch.
And off I went. I'm almost done now with the waist shaping.
Only one more set of increases to go, then a bit more plain knitting, then I'll split for the armholes. At that point, I'll be able to slide it on (I'm knitting this part in the round from the bottom up) and see how I'm doing, both in terms of ease and length. And I'll go from there.
There are also a few acquisitions of yarn and fiber, plus a cookbook that I'm totally psyched about, but I think I'll save those for the next post. In the meantime, peace out.
I don't know how many of you watched the debate this week, but at one point, one of the questions brought up something near and dear to my heart: a woman asked what each of the candidates would do in the next four years about the fact that women (still) earn about $.73 to the dollar compared to men (for doing the same jobs with the same qualifications, she didn't say, but I will). There are a couple of things to talk about, vis-a-vis the answers.
Thing the first is the one that's been all over the interwebs ever since: Mitt Romney's answer and his (now-infamous, and probably never-to-be-lived-down) binders full of women. As soon as he said that, I thought - this one's sticking, and as a linguist, of course, I find it interesting to think about why that is. What is it about that part of his answer that is so utterly meme-able? There were so many other things about his answer that I found noticeable that didn't take to the airwaves in the same way. For example, when he said that he received no female candidates for posts in his cabinet, the question I think he should have been asking right away is not, how do I get binders full of women to ask to apply, but instead, why aren't women applying to work in my cabinet? What message am I failing to get across that makes women feel that they don't want to apply? What broader social forces are at play that make women not apply to positions of power more generally? What is going on here? But OK, he didn't. The next issue with that answer was the fact that his protestations that he knows qualified women sounded all too much like a recognized trope when a person with prejudice is confronted with that prejudice, and they respond: "But I have lots of friends who are X". That phrase usually doesn't mean what it sounds like it means.
The binders full of women, though, that's what struck a nerve (judging by the amount of space devoted to it on social networks). Interestingly, it's the way that it's been used to mock another powerful man altogether that I think gets to the heart of the problem with it. I'm not sure if any of you have seen the Bill Clinton "I heard there's a binder full of women!" pictures going around (I've seen at least three iterations, and heard about several more), but it seems to me that those point to the issue here: it's about objectification. It's about the idea that women are interchangeable, available, tokens. Because the binders full of women don't get at the real problem - why women didn't apply, why women are still paid less than 75% of what men are paid, why there wasn't a woman standing on that stage answering those questions - and because those binders don't get at answers to those questions, they seem far too much like a pat on the head, a brushing-aside or covering-over of a very large problem.
Because let's be honest - neither candidate answered the question worth a damn. Both of them talked about access, about the idea that women should have access to jobs. They're right, women should. But if we end up doing the jobs that men do for 25% less, then do we really have access to the "same" jobs, with the same benefits? Does that really address the question of why women are considered to be 25% less valuable in the workplace? Or of why that number has been going down again in recent years, rather than up? Does it address the fact that most single-parent homes with children in them are headed by women, who then must support those families on 3/4 of the income their male counterparts would get for working as hard as they do? Does it address the fact that when women do, finally, begin to get access to a particular career, that career loses prestige and, concomitantly, pay? (If you think I'm wrong, look at the difference in pay in medical careers like family practice as opposed to surgery - still male-dominated; or look at what's happened to professorial pay since women gained more, although still not equal, access to the halls of academia; look at the differences in pay between the areas of academia that have more women in them relative to those that are still male-dominated.)
Speaking only as an N of 1, I have seen this same thing happen to me. A year after I was hired in my current job, my department hired a male professor who had not yet completed his Ph.D. He earned more than I did, even though I had both the degree and more years of experience in the classroom. More recently, my department hired another male professor who is, as yet, untenured (note: I have held my job for nearly eleven years, have had tenure for five years, and I am currently the chair of my department); he is paid almost exactly what I am paid. Both men are valuable colleagues, worth their pay. But why are my experience and skill (and my degree), not worth more? I have published as much, earned as many awards, taken as little time on leave, etc etc. But I am not worth as much. And for anyone who would say that money isn't everything - that is true in a philosophical and existential sense, but in a capitalist society (which, for our sins, we are), money is one of the most central ways by which we judge, and reward, our perceived sense of what a person is worth in a particular role. More practically, money is how we feed ourselves and our families, clothe our children, give them opportunities, help others in society. It might be nice to think it doesn't matter, but it does.
So, what I want to know is, why did neither of those presidential candidates talk about (here it is, brace yourselves) feminism? About the idea that there should be a social movement that advocates for women, and that continues to do so until women are treated as equal citizens, and that people of both sexes should proudly sign on to such a movement? Why did neither of them mention the Equal Rights Amendment - you know, the one that would acknowledge, under the law, that women are the equal of men? Why do people insist that there is no point in such a thing, that women are already equal to men under the law? If that were true, why is it that women still do not have the opportunities that men have? Why are we treated differently? I have two daughters, and I hate like hell the thought that when they grow up, they will still be part of a world that values them less, that tells them that their roles as mothers are critical to our society but then says that their roles as mothers makes them less-valuable people (and it is still true that mothers are paid even less than their single counterparts, while fathers are paid more than their single counterparts - in other words, parenthood makes men good risks, but women bad risks in the workplace).
Dudes. I am a feminist. That doesn't mean that I hate men. It doesn't mean that I think all women should burn their bras, neglect their children, go into the workforce, be the same as one another, create a society in which women dominate men and abuse power. It does mean that I think that women should have access to a full range of options for personhood, that they should be paid equally to men when the option that they choose is to enter the workforce. I also think that women who stay at home to raise their children should have access to social security earned during the years they are at home with dependent children, in their own names (rather than having to depend on their husbands' - or, worse yet, trying to access some portion of their ex-husbands'), and, maybe, even access to affordable healthcare? Call me a socialist, but if we tell people that one important path a person could choose to take is to be home with their children for part of their childrens' growing up, then we should put our money where our mouths are. (Note: I think stay-at-home dads should have the same benefits.)
I don't think that's going to happen until a couple of other important things happen first. One of those is for women to stop back-biting when their compatriots choose a different path than their own. I work outside the home, and have since my girls were little. That does not make me a bad mother. It doesn't make my husband a hen-pecked man whose masculinity I have taken away by refusing to allow him to provide for his family alone (I have been told both things more than once). A woman who stays home with her children is not an anti-feminist by definition. Breast-feeding neither makes a woman a great mother, nor a bad feminist. Not breast-feeding neither makes a woman a bad mother, nor a great feminist. When did we get so judgmental of one another? When did we decide there was only one path to successful womanhood?
The second thing is that men need to get in on this game. Until fathers are willing to demand paternity leave in equal amounts to women's maternity leave, until they are willing to say, "I need flexible hours so that I can get home with a sick kid if I have to, so I can leave at 5 and get the kids to soccer, so I can leave earlier two days a week since the kids' #$%*!! schools insist on having early-release days, as if 2:30 weren't already a ludicrously early hour to get out of school", until that happens, workplaces will still think of mothers as drains on company resources. Until women are paid equally to men, families will be stuck in a cycle of protecting a father's job more than a mother's, because he brings more back to the family. Men have to stop buying into the (empirically untrue - go ahead and do the research, I have) story that men aren't nurturers, they aren't good at raising children, they don't "bond" with their children the way mothers do, so they don't "like" being with their kids the way mothers do; they have to stop allowing society to cut them off from the pleasures of living a balanced life.
I realize that my rant here has focused on families, on women who have chosen the path of motherhood, and that the choice not to have children at all is yet another one of those equally-legitimate but all-to-often-criticized options that women should have access to. I also haven't talked about the issue of double jeopardy, women who face both sexism and racism in trying to access their right to the options that should be available to everyone. I am not ignoring these things because they're not important, but because I was mostly focusing on my personal experience here - I'd love to get comments from folks who are dealing with those things as well, to bring voices of experience to the table here - middle-class white working motherhood isn't the only story (it isn't even the majority story), it's just the one that I know best.
Basically, it's time to be talking about this (again). It's always been time, but maybe the total non-answers to that question suggest that we need to get a little louder. Maybe we even need to think about doing what Iceland did a few elections ago - to say that men have had their chance, kick them all out of government, and elect women instead. Radical, I know - kind of fun to imagine, though, maybe?
So yes, I am a feminist. AND I knit (not BUT I knit, please note). And I am knitting, in fact. I knitted all the way through that debate on Tuesday, and I ended up with these (started fairly recently, out of a need for some quick success):
The other thing I've been working on this week is my new version of the Wine Dark Sea sweater. You may remember from the old version (here, on Rav) that I knitted years ago, that I aimed for a sweat-shirty loose fit. Well, I got it. In looking at my old pattern notes and measurements, and comparing them to the measurements I tend to use now for sweaters, I realize that I built in about eight inches of positive ease (!!) when I designed and knitted the first one. I ended up with quite a bit of yarn left over after I knitted it (my very favorite, can't-get-enough-of-it yarn, Briar Rose Sea Pearl), and after weighing and doing some math, I decided I had enough left to knit another, more fitted (less than 1 inch of positive ease) version. So I put together some notes for myself, and did some math based on my gauge swatch.
There are also a few acquisitions of yarn and fiber, plus a cookbook that I'm totally psyched about, but I think I'll save those for the next post. In the meantime, peace out.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Finding my stride
It's Sunday, and I'm posting. I think I'm starting to get back into some kind of rhythm (I'm not saying what kind of rhythm exactly). I am knitting, I am posting. Laundry is done, the house has been vacuumed, and there are plans for dinner (for which the food is in the house, even).
We won't talk about the ever-expanding work to-do list, though. (I got myself a very cool calendar program for my phone which includes a combined to-do list - it even lets me check things off when I get them done, which I find satisfying. This is really nice on many levels, but on Friday, I changed the "due" date on something like eleven items to Monday. This is the electronic version of the little post-it to-do list I used to keep in my paper calendar; I kept it on a post-it note so I could move it forward at the end of each week when it wasn't done. I'm not sure if the fact that I know it won't get done and plan for it speaks of maturity and organization or the exact opposite.)
This week, a couple of things finally got finished. It is nice to be able to see actual finished knitted objects. The first is something small that I started last Saturday at Yarning For You's big kick-off for this year's Knit for the Cure.
It still needs buttons, but otherwise it's completely done, seams and all. It's a Baby Surprise Jacket (which I have decided may just become an annual thing; they apparently sell quickly, and I find them entertaining to knit), knitted on size 3 needles out of Baah La Jolla, with matching booties (no pattern - I just wing those). I'll try to drop it by the store sometime this week (I'm holding off on the buttons to see if they have anything cute there; otherwise I'll dig into Grandmom's button box for something simple - there are enough small white buttons in there to keep me buttoning Baby Surprise Jackets for years to come).
I also finished Scoria. I started this one as a September KAL with some friends (we're all doing different patterns, so it's a sweater KAL, rather than a particular pattern KAL), and I did actually have all the pieces knitted by the end of the month, as well as a first pass at the seams. But two of them turned out badly, so yesterday I undid them and re-seamed (one shoulder and the neck), and then reblocked it, which made a huge different. I am tolerably pleased.
As Rick says, it's not as fitted as some sweaters I've knitted - I think the waist shaping could have been more, well, shapely. That said, I still love the parts of this sweater that made me want to knit it in the first place. The combination of the herringbone pattern and the lace:
And the neck:
It's a very well-written pattern, and this yarn, as always, works up beautifully.
To recap, this is the pattern Scoria, from the magazine The Knitter (issue 46). I knitted the medium on size 3 needles, out of 7 balls of Plymouth Vita (a cotton/cashmere blend). I think I probably could have knitted the small size (hindsight 20/20), which might have had the added benefit of not giving me fits of nerves over whether I'd have enough yarn (I did, barely). The happy news is that I dug that yarn out of stash to knit this. I have been trying to convince myself that for every new thing I start (new in the sense of new pattern or new yarn), I need to work my way through something already cast on, or in stash. So all in all, a success. I will wear this - it may even end up being this year's conference sweater.
Keeping in mind that desire to work my way through some languishing projects and languishing yarn, once these were done, I went back and picked up the second pair of Silk Road Socks - it is high time I wrapped those up. You may remember that I knitted the first pair out of my own pattern, based on a silk woven funerary face covering I saw at an exhibit on textiles from the Silk Road (I saw the exhibit in 2010). That pair went to Younger Daughter, as they were too small for me. However, I had plenty of yarn left over, so I set about reworking the pattern to a larger size and knitting them for me. I had some theory about perhaps entering them into the county fair this past spring, but, as happens, time got away from me and I realized that there was no way I was going to finish the second sock of the pair without making myself very very stressed, and so I set them aside.
I've been avoiding picking them up again, partly because one of my goals is to write this pattern up, and it's mostly very straightforward, except for the heel turn. I can describe what to do in an intuitive way that might work for some knitters (it essentially involves turning the heel as one does, using yellow yarn to ssk or p2tog if both stitches are yellow, and blue if both are blue, and if they are different colors, using blue unless that would mean more than three blues in a row), but that kind of description really wouldn't work for some knitters, so I want to work through it this time with my notebook in hand, and to take row-by-row notes. That's been putting me off. So I girded my loins and hauled everything out and set back to work.
I am now done with the leg of the second sock, and am working on the heel flap. I transferred the notes for the pattern to my new knitting notebook (more on that in a moment), and now have some sense of what I already know and what I need to know to write the pattern. The only question I have for myself is whether I need to knit one more heel turn for the smaller size (in "scratch" yarn, even - and without a sock attached) so that I can write that out row by row as well. We shall see.
As for that notebook, that's something else I've wanted to post about. It arrived in the mail from New Zealand, in a little care package from Stella, some time ago, and I've been meaning to share it. If you don't read her blog, and if you want some inspiration, it is most definitely a place to go. Not only is she a skilled and veteran knitter and spinner, she is also (among many other things) a lover of fountain pens (a woman after my own heart), and she (fairly) recently learned bookbinding, and has been making lovely books of various sorts, all with fountain-pen-grade paper - and this one has knitter's graph paper on every page.
She bound it so that it will stay open, with plenty of room to add in yarn labels and bits of yarn and swatches and all of the things that make a good knitting notebook. And she covered it in wonderful paper.
Isn't it lovely? I have been feeling rather far away, somehow, from my own design work and fooling around (in the creative sense) for the last little while, but this notebook has been rather calling to me to get back to it. It's hard to ignore that kind of lure, and I'm glad I finally found the time this weekend to breathe a little bit and get my head around this project. (There's a second project that I hope will get kicked off that's long been on my back burner; more on that in another post.)
And finally, on the subject of inspiration, I have to mention the other impetus I lately had to get back into the more creative side of my knitting. Ellen and Jan, of Twinset Designs, have begun their own podcast (I think this calls for an exclamation point)! I was delighted when I found out, and delighted during every second of both of the podcasts they've put out so far, and if you are looking for a new podcast (or if you are new to knitting podcasts and interested in diving in), I highly recommend it. They are both designers, and prolific knitters - they're also both spinners - and I find that listening to them talk about the way they think about knitting gets my brain moving in interesting ways. You can find out more about it here.
And now I think it's time to go contemplate that second project...
We won't talk about the ever-expanding work to-do list, though. (I got myself a very cool calendar program for my phone which includes a combined to-do list - it even lets me check things off when I get them done, which I find satisfying. This is really nice on many levels, but on Friday, I changed the "due" date on something like eleven items to Monday. This is the electronic version of the little post-it to-do list I used to keep in my paper calendar; I kept it on a post-it note so I could move it forward at the end of each week when it wasn't done. I'm not sure if the fact that I know it won't get done and plan for it speaks of maturity and organization or the exact opposite.)
This week, a couple of things finally got finished. It is nice to be able to see actual finished knitted objects. The first is something small that I started last Saturday at Yarning For You's big kick-off for this year's Knit for the Cure.
I also finished Scoria. I started this one as a September KAL with some friends (we're all doing different patterns, so it's a sweater KAL, rather than a particular pattern KAL), and I did actually have all the pieces knitted by the end of the month, as well as a first pass at the seams. But two of them turned out badly, so yesterday I undid them and re-seamed (one shoulder and the neck), and then reblocked it, which made a huge different. I am tolerably pleased.
To recap, this is the pattern Scoria, from the magazine The Knitter (issue 46). I knitted the medium on size 3 needles, out of 7 balls of Plymouth Vita (a cotton/cashmere blend). I think I probably could have knitted the small size (hindsight 20/20), which might have had the added benefit of not giving me fits of nerves over whether I'd have enough yarn (I did, barely). The happy news is that I dug that yarn out of stash to knit this. I have been trying to convince myself that for every new thing I start (new in the sense of new pattern or new yarn), I need to work my way through something already cast on, or in stash. So all in all, a success. I will wear this - it may even end up being this year's conference sweater.
Keeping in mind that desire to work my way through some languishing projects and languishing yarn, once these were done, I went back and picked up the second pair of Silk Road Socks - it is high time I wrapped those up. You may remember that I knitted the first pair out of my own pattern, based on a silk woven funerary face covering I saw at an exhibit on textiles from the Silk Road (I saw the exhibit in 2010). That pair went to Younger Daughter, as they were too small for me. However, I had plenty of yarn left over, so I set about reworking the pattern to a larger size and knitting them for me. I had some theory about perhaps entering them into the county fair this past spring, but, as happens, time got away from me and I realized that there was no way I was going to finish the second sock of the pair without making myself very very stressed, and so I set them aside.
I've been avoiding picking them up again, partly because one of my goals is to write this pattern up, and it's mostly very straightforward, except for the heel turn. I can describe what to do in an intuitive way that might work for some knitters (it essentially involves turning the heel as one does, using yellow yarn to ssk or p2tog if both stitches are yellow, and blue if both are blue, and if they are different colors, using blue unless that would mean more than three blues in a row), but that kind of description really wouldn't work for some knitters, so I want to work through it this time with my notebook in hand, and to take row-by-row notes. That's been putting me off. So I girded my loins and hauled everything out and set back to work.
As for that notebook, that's something else I've wanted to post about. It arrived in the mail from New Zealand, in a little care package from Stella, some time ago, and I've been meaning to share it. If you don't read her blog, and if you want some inspiration, it is most definitely a place to go. Not only is she a skilled and veteran knitter and spinner, she is also (among many other things) a lover of fountain pens (a woman after my own heart), and she (fairly) recently learned bookbinding, and has been making lovely books of various sorts, all with fountain-pen-grade paper - and this one has knitter's graph paper on every page.
And finally, on the subject of inspiration, I have to mention the other impetus I lately had to get back into the more creative side of my knitting. Ellen and Jan, of Twinset Designs, have begun their own podcast (I think this calls for an exclamation point)! I was delighted when I found out, and delighted during every second of both of the podcasts they've put out so far, and if you are looking for a new podcast (or if you are new to knitting podcasts and interested in diving in), I highly recommend it. They are both designers, and prolific knitters - they're also both spinners - and I find that listening to them talk about the way they think about knitting gets my brain moving in interesting ways. You can find out more about it here.
And now I think it's time to go contemplate that second project...
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