Links for the Beginning Knitter
A Very Good Sport: Mallory learning to knit a hat, using DPNs, even. I didn't tell her they were hard.
You all know I love to spread the gospel of the sticks and the string. When I left the U.S., one of the most difficult goodbyes was to my knitting students and to the discretionary time that allowed me to teach knitting. [I might be able to do it in the UK in a little while, but for now I just don’t have the space in my calendar or my head.]
But I had underestimated the addictive quality of teaching people to knit, especially beginners. I love watching people go from non-knitters to knitters. It’s especially fun to teach hats, because they can be completed relatively quickly, and there’s nothing more exciting to a new knitter than a completed project. And poor Mallory walked right into this gaping maw of knitting teacher need about a month ago. She’d knit a scarf before, but that got repetitive and boring.
Aside: I do wish we could come up with a better first project than a scarf. Maybe a kerchief (head or neck) or a seamed cowl would work. I know exactly why we have people knit scarves – lots of practice, big long rectangle – but I have had so many people come into my classes who learned to knit long before, got bored with their scarves, and almost never came back. I myself learned to knit a few little squares, and then socks. But that’s another story for another time.
First hat! Check out the excitement on her face.
Anyway, the sentence “I might like to knit sometime” was barely out of Mallory’s mouth before I was racing upstairs to grab yarn and knitting needles before she changed her mind, Mr. Trask cheering me on as he saw another opportunity for me to give away yarn.
[Let me just say that Mr. Trask really took one for the team here. We were having a Justified marathon, not a very girlie endeavor, and then suddenly he was watching TV with not one but two knitters…girl knitters, in fact, who kept muttering to each other about “bring the yarn to the front between the needles” and “don’t worry, you’ll only be knitting on two of these DPNs at once.” Mr. Trask is a very patient man.]
We started with a simple ribbed hat made of leftover pink yarn from my Tea Leaves Sweater (which, by the way, turned out just fine, and I really should post a photo or two). Then Mallory had the nifty idea to make a wavy hat, shifting the ridges of the ribbing every row or so, and we found some delightful green yarn in my stash. Then I lured her back to scarves with the Irish Hiking Scarf, a simple cabled number, and now she is working on a top-down sweater by Stefanie Japel. We made her first foray into yarn shop joy a couple of weeks ago, dropping in to Port Meadow Designs for some gorgeous Mirasol yarn for her sweater.
Mallory's second hat - with a pattern she improvised herself.
I’m luring her even further into the knitting abyss by convincing her to make an Albers Cowl while working on the sweater (you know how nice it is to have a mindless project as well). Soon, she will have two projects on the needles at once! A rite of passage indeed.
Anyway, I thought now might be a good time to post some links that I usually give out in my beginning classes. And I got all excited about the internet and found some other items as well. Here’s what I came up with. What would you add to the list?
One last thing: I know you all are wondering what happened to the pink yarn left over after Mallory made her first hat. Right? Right? The answer is that it became my first baby project. I know, I know, I said the first project would be out of the Alisha Goes Around, but you all gave me so many choices for that yarn that I still haven’t decided. Also, this yarn was pink. And we’re having a girl. So the last bits of this yarn seemed destined to go to her.
In the comments yesterday, my father suggested I show the results off to you guys. So here are a tiny hat and socks:
A little hat and little socks, for the little girl who will come in July.
And here are some links to help the beginning, and not-so-beginning, knitter.
The Basics
- Ravelry. A knitting and crochet community with all kinds of information on yarns and patterns, plus forums in which many helpful knitters will talk to you about a variety of subjects (some even having to do with knitting).
- Knitting Help. Videos of any stitch you might be able to think of, and other techniques as well.
- Craftsy. Knitting classes online.
- Knitty. Free patterns, articles, general fun.
- Encouragement. A video of a guy teaching himself to knit. Spoiler alert: it does not go well.
Answers to Your Beginning (and not-so-beginning) Questions:
- How Much Yarn for a Long-Tail Cast-On? Cat Bordhi shows us.
- How Can I Find the Right Yarn for this Project? Clara Parkes offers tips.
- Why Do I Have to Knit a Gauge Swatch? Jenna Wilson settles this once and for all.
Charity Knitting
- Teen Granny has organized Knit Relief, an eBay auction of hand-knit items to support Sport Relief.
- An appeal for hats for newborns, via Doctors Without Borders. Not feeling creative? The post includes two hat patterns.
- A pattern from The Guardian to make blankets for rescue dogs (and information on where to send them).
Books
- Clara Parkes Reviews Knitting With Two Colors by knitting legend Meg Swanson and Amy Detjen. Note to Mr. Trask: post includes links for where to buy online.
- Lara Neel of Math4Knitters is posting an index of sorts to the new book Principles of Knitting on Twitter, using the hashtag #PoKLove . Check it out!
And, finally, Randomness:
MacGyver Knitting: Sock Edition
Casting on. Notice how nicely the yarn’s colors blend – and they’re not TOO Christmassy, even though they’re a December colorway.
Yes, people. MacGyver Knitting. You’ve been there. You need a stitch marker, and make do with an earring. You’ve lost all your stitch holders, so you use a chopstick and some rubber bands. You have almost enough yarn, but not quite, but you have a slightly different colorway, and you make the new color look like a design element. What I’m talking about kind of the reverse of Brenda Dayne’s Knitting Scouts MacGyver Badge, which requires a non-knitting use of knitting materials (see, for example, my long-ago wildflower stake). MacGyver Knitting gives a unique sense of satisfaction, the pleasing (if possibly erroneous) idea that you could find a way to get knitting supplies even if trapped on a desert island or huddled in a bomb shelter. And I did it recently with some socks.
I was knitting socks for a sick friend who seemed to deserve the luxury of hand-knit socks. I was inspired partly by the last colorway of the 2011 Rockin’ Sock Club. It was called “Comfort and Joy,” which is what I wish for her, and the colors were quite pretty indeed. I cast on in January, on my way to the U.S. for a visit.
I made a lot of progress one weekend while on a woodsy-birdsy women’s retreat in Virginia. All blissed out from said retreat, I stuffed the socks-in-progress into my purse, carried it around for a day or so, and then discovered that I’d broken two of my DPNs. Not a shock, since one shouldn’t put thin DPNs into an active purse without some kind of protection. This breakage was on me. This breakage was also foreshadowing, but of course I didn’t know that yet. Still serene, I popped off to fibre space, bought a nice long Knitter’s Pride Symfonie Dreamz needle, and started magic looping.
Airplane photo…fuzzy. The yarn is Socks That Rock Rockin’ Sock Club for December 2011.
Aside: Dreamz needles are pretty nice. The cables are very flexible and the tips are smooth yet strong. I wish I’d gotten myself the interchangeable set…but I was trying to keep my bags light and my credit card viable.
I got a lot of knitting done on the plane back to England, on which I also learned that airplane folks are nice to pregnant ladies. They got me three seats across so that I could stretch out with my belly and my head cold – and an enormous bottle of water, all to myself. I was on the daytime flight again, so watched several movies. I never know whether the movies I enjoy on an airplane are actually good, or whether they seem better because they are distracting me from the discomfort of a coach seat. Anyone else have this problem? At any rate, I made even more progress while watching Crazy, Stupid, Love, and thought I’d be finished in no time.
By the time I got home, sock #1 was almost done. I was plugging along, eager to finish and start sock #2, because I have been known to face second sock syndrome. And then…it happened.
- I was sitting on the couch.
- I got up to get some water from the kitchen.
- When I got back, one of my needle tips was broken.
The Great Tragedy: first few rows of second sock, with broken needle tip on left.
I can’t explain it any better than that. Did I sit on the needle? Had it broken a while back and I didn’t notice? Was the cat sabotaging my knitting again? I couldn’t even find the broken-off tip.
I stared and stared, trying to come to terms with my loss. The thing is, I’ve had trouble finding circular needles in Oxford, much less small-size circular needles. The two shops that do carry knitting needles are pretty much size-6-and-up for circulars. And when they are smaller size (I am going to sound a little spoiled here) they’re those heavy plastic circulars with really rough tips. You know the ones. I couldn’t stand to think about using one of them. Yes, I have been spoiled by the variety of needles available at home. Boo.
However it happened, the tip was broken, and it wasn’t coming back. I tore through my extensive needle collection, but while I had about eight different pairs of size 3 Addis and several teeny metal size 0s, of course there were no other size 1s, except the two DPNs left over from the purse-needle-breaking incident.
Desperate, I attempted a little repair-work, even though I knew it was a bad idea. Don’t tape a needle back together, ever. It just doesn’t work, no matter how thin the tape, and then you have to scrape all the tape back off, painstakingly, miserably, grinding your teeth and muttering to yourself. At least I resisted the glue idea. In case you are wondering why I didn’t try the obvious solution, yes, I did order a new needle online. It arrived broken as well – according to the vendor, the first time that has ever happened to her (and I believe her). Apparently the knitting gods wanted me to be creative.
Spoiler Alert: It all turned out okay in the end.
So for a little while I limped along, slipping stitches onto one of the DPNs and knitting off of it back onto the good tip of the circular needle. Tried to be brave. Only tweeted about my pain a few times. Ate a Magnum Bar. Considered getting sand paper and sort of sanding down the broken tip. Decided that was stupid, would lead to gauge issues, and also that I am not competent enough to create a tip using sandpaper.
Then I realized something that might have been obvious to a different knitter: when you’re knitting in the round, you only knit off of the left-hand needle. You don’t really need a point, except for stitches like SSK. I mean, clearly I’d been knitting with the broken tip for a little while before I realized it was broken. Why couldn’t I continue like that?
The answer is, I could. I only needed a left-hand tip for the back-and-forth rows of the heel, and at that point I used one of the remaining DPNs in conjunction with the circular needle. Victory! For the SSK decreases at gusset and toe, I just used the broken left-hand tip, because a size 1 needle is itself so skinny that a broken end of it will serve as a point in a pinch. I even re-knit the toe of sock #2 three times, to make sure the foot lengths matched (like I said, I’m not great at those second socks).
The socks are now on the feet of my fabulous friend, and I feel pretty darned impressed with myself. It’s the little things, people. Don’t tell me you don’t feel the same. So – when have you engaged in MacGyver Knitting? Tell me how smart you are in the comments field. Or tell me about a movie you saw on an airplane that you thought was great and now suspect might not have been – I need some backup on that.
Giveaway update: The winner of the Rowan Calmer was Jeannie, who has a great blog and a new grandchild. Stay tuned for another giveaway later this month.
Some News, A New Sweater, and Yarn Gifts (plus giveaway)
Good day, good people. I have missed you all, and I don’t have a really good excuse for not writing, except for the holidays, and some travel, and having a secret and not being very good at keeping secrets. [Ask Mr. Trask. Christmas and birthdays are not great times for me. Meanwhile, at 6’5″, he just puts all my gifts somewhere I can’t reach. Bah!]
Without further ado, I give you…Some News.
Due July 6. Crazy, right?
- Me: Can I refer to our progeny as “Future Knitter” on my blog?
- Mr. Trask: Um…no.
But you guys and I know that this kid is going to grow up swathed in knitted items, anyway. So it’s got that going for it. Anyway, the secret is out!
Mr. Trask and I are very excited. I spent much of the fall being ill all over Oxford (Mr. Trask will, upon request, arrange a tour of all the buildings outside of which I have been sick), but now the nausea is almost gone and the second trimester hunger is setting in.
In no particular order, answers to some Frequently Asked Questions:
- Yes, the baby will be born in England.
- No, that does not mean it will be a British citizen (sad). That whole “you’re born here, you’re ours” thing is a US thing, it seems.
- Instead, we will take the baby to the US embassy early in its young life, and apply for its very first passport as proof of American citizenship.
- The NHS has been great for us so far. Somewhat different from US health care, but great.
- No, we don’t yet know the gender.
- No, I haven’t started knitting for the baby yet (more on that in a moment). BUT my fabulous mother-in-law is making a gorgeous feather-and-fan baby blanket. She’s made one for every one of her grandchildren. Isn’t that cool?!?
I went back to the US last month to see family and friends, and bought maternity clothes there into the bargain. [It turns out that Oxford has no maternity shops, at least not near us. So odd.] I will now be a fashionable pregnant knitter, instead of a knitter with her jeans held together by a rubber band, which is what I was in December. I didn’t get many sweaters, because of course my plan is to knit a few – so I will welcome your suggestions about maternity-friendly patterns. In the meantime, and without further ado, Pregnancy Sweater #1 – based on the modifications to the Polly Pullover that Susan B. Anderson offered as part of a knitalong in the fall.
First a little history. Last spring, as I was buried in work and the giveaways were ramping up, fabulous friend Lynn sent me…some yarn. With a loving but strict note that I was to use said yarn to make something for myself. And that I was not allowed to give this yarn away.
Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Superchunky: For a Cozy, Quick Knit
Longtime readers of this blog may feel that the colorway of this yarn seems familiar. That’s right – it’s the same color as the Debbie Bliss Cashmerino Aran that I bought for myself several years ago…the cursed yarn, that was several sweaters and then went into the garbage. [I have never before or since thrown yarn away…but I have never looked back after throwing away that stuff.] I laughed out loud when I saw the color come back to me through Lynn; I am pretty sure that I was there when she bought the Cashmerino Superchunky. But, because she told me to keep the yarn, I kept it, and tried to figure out what it would be.
Much like the cursed yarn, this stuff went through several incarnations before settling. First, I tried to make a simple throw. Didn’t have enough yardage for Jared Flood’s Umaro, and for no clear reason I was unable to follow the extremely simple instructions for the Lacy Chunky Throw without adding stitches. Then I tried to use it as the basis for a lace bag during the Teva Durham Lace Improvisation class in September. Too fiddly, plus I couldn’t imagine lining the thing, plus I couldn’t imagine carrying it. At this point, I was sure the yarn was conspiring against me, but I brought it to England anyway (and those of you who know, know that this was a big deal).
By Christmas, though, I knew that I needed a cozy sweater, and I needed it now. The holidays in Oxford are really lovely, with cold weather and warm drinks and lights downtown and caroling concerts. But they are also cold and damp, and by the middle of December the sun is rising at 8 a.m. and setting at 4 p.m. That’s about 8 hours of light. Plus, you will recall that I was being sick all over town. I got a little depressed, people. And that was when I realized it was time to make the sweater:
Gertie keeps an eye on the yarn while I knit.
I’d put the Polly knitalong on my Things to Do list a while back, and I knew that it would produce a sweater within a few days. Between Christmas and the New Year, I made this fabulous cardigan (although it took me a few more weeks to weave in the ends):
My Polly Cardigan - and the growing bump.
You’ll notice that there are no buttons on the thing. I bought the cutest buttons at fibre space while I was home, and now I can’t find them. This is why I shouldn’t tidy up! I always shove something important, like all of my tapestry needles, into an odd place, like the inbox where we keep unpaid bills, and then it takes me two months to recover whatever it was. Bah!
This was a quick knit, and a fun one. Susan did a great job of offering lots of modifications in her blog posts, and the Ravelry knitalong group offered their expertise, as well. It cheered me right up to have finished something, and to have a pretty and thick sweater to wear. Once I find those buttons, it’s going to be perfect.
Giveaway! If you’ve made it this far, you deserve some yarn. This time, it’s Rowan Calmer on the block, in a beautiful chocolate brown that the photos don’t really capture.
Rowan Calmer: For Early Spring Knitting.
This soft yet springy yarn is a blend of cotton and polyester, one of Amy Singer‘s favorite yarns. [If you haven’t yet signed the Save Calmer petition, pop on over and do that now!] You can’t do better than this yarn for lovely spring hats and scarves.
So, here’s something. The winner of the last giveaway was Syd. Now, Syd did something lovely and yet something no one else is allowed to do. She donated the Alisha Goes Around yarn right back to me, as a thank-you for previous giveaways. She sent me a beautiful note suggesting this, and after a lot of thought I have decided to accept, because it’s such a nice thought. Now, people, none of the rest of you may do this. The rest of you must take your yarn, and like it. I will consider Syd’s thank-you to be from the rest of you, because if you all keep doing this then I’ll still have the same amount of yarn (as Mr. Trask wisely pointed out to me. Thank you Mr. Trask).
That said, I’ll use the skein from Syd to make my first baby something. So – what shall we make, people? Recommend a baby pattern in the comments, or tell me the best yarn gift you ever received, or…tell me where my buttons are. Or my tapestry needles. Or the remote. Whatever you say, comment by Wednesday, Feb. 15, at 12 p.m. GMT, and you’ll be entered to win the Rowan Calmer.
Next time: How I knit a sock and a half using a circular needle with a broken tip. MacGyver Knitting!
The Quiche Story…and a Giveaway
Jane Lawton: Eccentric Chef, Delightful Mother.
I’ve been gone for way too long, people. I’m getting used to the very short terms Oxford has (just 8 weeks) and the intensity of the studying that goes on during that time. But at the beginning it was all wailing, gnashing of teeth, and sadly ignored knitting needles. And now it has been more than a month since I’ve written here – which, as you know, is like the cardinal sin of blogging. I am so, so sorry, people. As a bribe to encourage forgiveness, I have a special giveaway at the bottom of this post (remember those?). Exciting?
All three of you who have been reading for a while may remember that this is the time of year when I write about my mother. It’s near the anniversary of her death, and writing something about her seems to help me honor her. So my next post will be chock-full of yarn and news and crazy stories, including why our bed only arrived today and how the cat has been settling in, but for now you’re stuck with Jane. [Or you can scroll down for the yarn.]
Jane Lawton passed away four years ago, on Nov. 29, and she left a huge hole in my life (and the lives of others, of course). She was quite the character. Born in Muskogee, Oklahoma, she grew up in Ada, a small but nice town that seems to be best known outside of Oklahoma for its usefulness in crossword puzzles. She was one of those strong pioneer women. Mom had southern charm and crazy, and the story I’m going to tell you this time is one of my favorites. And one of Mr. Trask’s favorites. That’s right…it’s time for the story of…The Sweet Quiche.
Mom in the Kitchen (the scene of the crime)
So, a very yuppie tradition in our family is the making of quiche. We did it when I was little, and the book Real Men Don’t Eat Quiche had just come out (my father helped, even), mostly on Sunday mornings. I remember watching my mother make it, and I remember helping her, later. For some reason, I think my father was often in charge of cutting the onions. But I might be making that up. I associate quiche with those lazy Sunday mornings when the Sunday paper would be spread out all over the den and my father would be dancing with the dog to Simon & Garfunkel’s “Cecilia.”
Later on, my mother started making it for Christmas brunch. A fine tradition, combining eggs, pastry, and occasionally vegetables. My sister, a vegetarian, could eat something substantial (broccoli/cheddar quiche), while the rest of us had Quiche Lorraine (one of the best foods ever). [Obviously, this was before I was diagnosed with gluten sensitivity. I am still looking for a good gluten-free quiche recipe. I can hardly talk about it, people.]
Anyway, one Christmas we were all going to my mother’s house for presents and food, and (like a good daughter) I called to see whether I could bring anything. “No, I’m fine!” she said brightly. I mention this phone call because I feel it is important for later on. I wonder now whether she sounded a little strained, but that is probably just the power of suggestion.
Here Mom is on one of her many hiking trips. No cooking disasters here!
We all met at Mom’s; we opened some presents; we admired the tree; we decided to have a little food. There was salad; there were bagels; there was quiche.
We all dug in, because there is nothing the Lawton family likes more than a little quiche. This one was broccoli/cheddar, and I think my sister was the first person to get a funny look on her face about it. I know I was the one who said, “Mom, this quiche tastes a little odd.”
She might have answered a little too quickly. “No, it doesn’t! It tastes fine!”
“No…” my father said, slowly. “It’s weird.” The quiche was a little heavier than usual, and a little…sweeter. Except for the aforementioned broccoli and cheddar, one might have taken it for a pie.
“Mom, this quiche tastes sweet,” I said.
“It’s fine!” she said.
“It’s really sweet,” my sister said.
“It’s Oklahoma Sweet Quiche!” she said defensively. “It’s…a southern delicacy!”
Here Mom is in a really old Christmas photo. You can see the tree in the background (and that her hair had been highlighted strangely).
Eventually, she broke down and admitted that she’d gotten all the way to the end of the recipe before realizing she didn’t have any half-and-half. And here is where I feel that she got a bit caught up in the moment. You know how it is – you’ve got the broccoli all sauteed, you’ve broken the eggs into the mixing bowl, the oven is pre-heated, people are coming over, and…you get a little crazy.
Instead of going out and buying some, or asking someone else to bring some (see above!), like a normal person would have done, she decided to substitute. Did she sub in milk? No…not thick enough. Did she sub in more eggs? I can’t see how that would have worked, although it would have been better than what she did do. No; all she could find was condensed milk. As in, sweetened condensed milk. And then she tried to pass off the resultant custard-with-broccoli as Oklahoma Sweet Quiche. A blot on a fine woman’s record of entertaining; a slur on the State of Oklahoma.
I ask today: Who are we to judge the actions of a hostess on Christmas Day? Who among us has not found we lacked something at the critical moment of a recipe? Who has not looked disaster in the face, and decided to brazen it out?
All that said, it was with great relief that we sent my father out for more eggs, and bacon. And that was the year that I decided to bring a few cereal bars in my knitting bag when I went out to eat, just in case.
Maybe next year I’ll tell you the story of the exploding turkey.
On to the giveaway! People, the Plug + Play Pembrokeshire Retreat (happening again next year – get more info here) had the best goody bag I have ever received. Three different skeins of amazing yarn – beautiful stitch markers – various other goodies – and everything we needed to design with lace. Today, I offer you: one of the skeins of yarn.
This is gorgeous Alisha Goes Around yarn, Pulchitrude of Peacocks Fingering, in a gorgeous green colorway. It would be exactly right for your next set of handwarmers or even a lace cowl. I am having trouble letting go of it, but you know how much I love you guys, and I want you to have something from my time in Wales! So….check it out:
Glorious Alisha Goes Around Yarn (on one of the boxes containing our new bed)
Just comment on the blog by noon UK time on Friday, Dec. 9, and tell me your best or worst cooking story, or knitting story, or – hey! – even a Jane Lawton story. As always, I’ll use the Random Number Generator to select one of you for yarn-y goodness, and I’ll mail you the yarn. If you want to donate to the cost of shipping, you can, but there’s no requirement to. No strings attached; just yarn in one lucky person’s mailbox. What’s not to love?
Next week, a post about knitting – all the cool knitting things I’ve seen this fall – and then a report on my trip to The Hague next week (where I plan to visit any LYS I can find). We’re back, people! Thank you for your patience.
Is A Jumper Ever Just A Jumper?
The Killing: A Sweater with a Life of its Own. Photo courtesy BBC Four.
Some of you may have noticed the Guardian’s recent fashion tip: according to fashion writer Jess Cartner-Morley, jumpers (sweaters) are “naff, nerdy, and this season’s must-have.” I saw that headline and didn’t know whether to be excited (hey! I have some jumpers!) or distressed (oh, no, I’m still nerdy).
After digging a little deeper into this possible trend, I surmise that Danish TV show The Killing has made jumpers popular: Sarah Lund, the detective on The Killing, wears a hand-knit sweater while she fights crime. [Let me also say that googling “The Killing UK” made me nervous, as did “Watch The Killing UK online.”]
Now, I may be misreading the word “jumper” – I suspect there’s some popular nuance* that online searches have not turned up for me (UK readers, please do jump in). But this kind of feels like saying, “Skirts are in!” or “Grab a pair of jeans – they’re super-hot right now.” I mean, it’s a sweater. You’re telling me that no fashionista had a sweater in her closet before this year? Carter-Morley claims that she hasn’t worn a jumper since she was about 10 years old. [I think the only garment about which I can say that is pink trousers.]
If I wear this sweater, will I be able to solve crimes? Photo courtesy Gudrun & Gudrun.
Judging from the companion article 10 Best Jumpers on the High Street, it may be that the writer is referring to really ugly sweaters. Certainly, that’s the nuance I get from another Guardian piece on Sarah Lund’s sweater, which reveals that jumpers are:
1. Asexual. According to actress Sofie Gråbøl, who plays Lund and who chose the jumper for her character, the garment “tells of a person who doesn’t use her sexuality – that’s a big point.” So – jumpers mean you don’t want to be thought of as sexual. Good start. Interestingly, jumpers do mean you’re interested in free love, because Lund’s is also…
2. Hippie-Dippy. Gråbøl grew up in the 1970s, in what the Guardian’s TV and Radio Blog calls “a very hippy-like environment in Copenhagen.” The actress explains, “I wore this sweater and so did my parents. That sweater was a sign of believing in togetherness…it says that [Lund wants] to sit around a fire with a guitar.” [Note that Gråbøl, a Dane, is saying “sweater” rather than “jumper.” Agh!]
Sensing the onset of the special headache that comes when I try to translate from UK to US, I popped back to Carter-Morley’s article. She admits to a cardigan and a fine-gauge sweater – so, for this woman at least, a jumper is a special kind of sweater. [Again, I’m thinking “ugly” or “handknit” or “bulky” may come into play here.]
The Plot Thickens: for season two, Sarah Lund has a different sweater. Photo courtesy BBC.
This is not the only article the Guardian has published about the sweater, either. Sarah Lund’s sweater, it seems, has taken on a life of its own. An article from February calls the miracle garment (which is a Faroese jumper and available online for a paltry £236) “the surprise star” of the show, as if it’s started to tour the talk shows and there’s been talk of an OBE.
Anyway, here are some other things jumpers are:
- old-fashioned;
- woolly;
- warm;
- utilitarian;
- quirky;
- fashionably unfashionable.
I’m pretty sure knitters wouldn’t have it any other way (if you’re willing to spend several weeks making something by hand, you’re probably not too offended by old-fashioned, for example). But what about everyone else? Do jumpers really have such a broad range of meanings? When I put on a sweater here (especially one I’ve knit myself), am I telling the world that I don’t want to look like a woman? That I have somehow given up, or don’t know how to be fashionable?
Carter-Morley says that the British “grow up with an emotional attachment to jumper-wearing that can override aesthetic considerations,” associating them with home, comfort, warmth, Christmas, and much more. [Later, she refers to teenagers wearing jumpers when they move out of their parents’ house for the first time – so I think she may protest too much with that whole “not since I was 10” thing.] Is this any different from what Americans, or anyone else, feel about sweaters? What do you all think?
I’m not sure Carter-Morley is entirely clear on what she thinks of jumpers by the end of this article, though she does say she’s going to “be all about a jumper” this winter. Welcome to the club, Jess! We’re happy to teach you to knit your very own woolly jumper whenever you like. And then you can use this chart to design a Sarah Lund sweater all by yourself.
*A quick check of separated by a common language, the brilliant linguistics blog by an American linguist working on Britain, reveals that sweater is indeed more general than jumper, but doesn’t really get into the “a jumper is ugly” nuance. The divine Brenda told me last night that the word “jumper” suffers from association with the phrases “woolly jumper” and “Christmas jumper” (check out the crazy-looking knitting granny on that second site!).
Knitting in Pembrokeshire: Life-Saving
This one's for the family members: here I am in my subfusc: tie, robe with streamers, mortarboard in hand, etc.
Well, folks, you probably thought I was in the loony bin, based on my last post. I wasn’t; I was just reading some 18th century women’s poetry, and getting settled, and even – yes, that’s right – buying some furniture. [It arrives a week from today. This means that, on our 5th wedding anniversary, Mr. Trask and I will be testing our marriage via furniture assembly.]
More excitingly, I was in Wales last weekend, knitting with the fabulous Brenda Dayne and the brilliant Amy Singer. They put together a retreat on designing with lace that was inspiring and enlightening, as well as a whole lot of fun. The group was small by design, so that we each got a fair amount of attention from Amy and Brenda, and also got to know each other.
First, of course, I must tell you about Matriculation. This is an ancient required ceremony at the University of Oxford, in which new students dress up in funny clothes and wait for several hours for two Latin phrases to be spoken (and then for a group photo to be taken back at their college). I signed up for Plug+Play Pembrokeshire long before I had heard of Matriculation, and as it turns out one is required to be there. Required. As in, my group of freshers waited 45 minutes at our college while they woke up and dressed the one guy who didn’t show. So I had to arrange with Brenda and Amy to come a bit late. With all that, want to know a secret? I was lucky that slacker they routed out of bed wasn’t me.
Clouds in Wales: is there anything prettier?
You see, I stayed up late the night before Matriculation. No, I was not reveling in Freshers’ Week; nor was I outlining my dissertation like a good girl. No, I was catching up on How I Met Your Mother via iTunes. You know how these things come over you. You’ve been working hard, and you think, in a petulant head-voice, “I deserve to stay up late being irresponsible.” Oh, and throughout the show I was thinking, “I can pack tomorrow before the ceremony. No problem.”
When I woke up at 7:45 a.m. for an 8:15 a.m. kickoff at my college, which is about a 20-minute walk from our flat, I was pretty sure I was done for. The one thing I had done was lay out my insane costume the night before, so I was able to throw on my suit, my shirt, my opaque tights, my robe, my mortarboard, and my flat black shoes and dash out the door, as Mr. Trask (sainted man) yelled after me, “I’ll pack and meet you there!” [I will not mention to you that I had to text him to bring me deodorant.]
Brenda is sympathetic, listening to a knitter's tale of woe during Today's Sweater.
All of this is to explain to you all how I got to Wales with no knitting needles. The goody bag was providing us with everything but needles, and I. Came. Without. Them. So freaking embarrassing. But Brenda and Amy were lovely about this, and of course folks were willing to loan me needles. Even better, I got to borrow one of Amy’s Symfonie Dreamz Interchangeables (Mr. Trask, take note: the 5th wedding anniversary gift is traditionally wood). Still, not a move I want to repeat any time soon. Luckily, Jeni of Fyberspates brought some needles to our teeny-tiny marketplace on Sunday along with her gorgeous yarn.
This brings me to the stash-enhancement portion of the weekend: between the goody bag and the marketplace, I have tripled my stash. Anzula, Alisha Goes Around, and Indigodragonfly all contributed to our goody bags (as did Soak and the amazing Knitifacts). Plus, I might just have bought some yarn both from Jeni and from Nimu Yarns, about whom I hadn’t heard before.
"Beggars Reach: Probably the Best in the Area!"
Other than the continuous humiliation of having arrived late and unprepared, the retreat was glorious. Both Amy and Brenda are excellent teachers, and the group was both friendly and encouraging. People came up with some amazing lace designs. Plus, on Saturday night, we got to see Today’s Sweater live! Brenda did some of her sweater show-and-tell, and encouraged us to do the same. Catherine (who also has much better pictures of the weekend than I do) brought an amazing lace baby shawl that her mother-in-law made when Catherine’s daughter was born (she made one for each of the grandchildren, and three of the great-grandchildren), and then Catherine’s own version of the shawl, which was three-color and gorgeous. Josie showed us her version of double-knitting. Someone (Vandy?) showed us her stunning finished Lalique jacket. And Sally showed us an amazing baby coverall that she designed for a contest (using up several days of vacation time in the process) 20 years ago. I hung back, because I had not packed my Today’s Sweater, either. Sigh.
Amy celebrates after blowing out all the candles on her birthday cake.
Other highlights included incredible food; much discussion of Doctor Who, Torchwood, and everything Joss Whedon has ever written; an early celebration of Amy’s birthday; and a group of us watching Downton Abbey on Sunday night (with Tina explaining to us that Violet, Dowager Countess of Grantham, was the living image of her grandmother).
Most of all, the retreat helped me feel at home in this country. Knitters are always friendly and kind, no matter what the country, and I had a chance to ask some burning questions about British life (although I forgot the most important one – “On which side of the sidewalk should I be walking?”). Being able to travel all over the UK was one reason Mr. Trask and I were excited about moving here, and the train ride alone was a beautiful reminder of that. When we got back to Oxford, it even felt a little bit like coming home. Once we have furniture, we’ll feel even more that way. Do you guys think I could knit a beanbag chair? [Don’t answer that.]
Finally, if you’re really curious about what went on, below is a fabulous video Laurie made of our time in Wales. Enjoy! And, commenters, do tell me about the most embarrassing “I forgot” moment of your lives, just so I know I’m not alone.
Very Little Knowledge: On Color or Anything Else
Kettle-dyed yarn can be great for beginners, who enjoy looking at the changing colors and can more easily differentiate among stitches in variegated yarn.
My dears, I have been trying to write a post on how knitters struggle with color for about a month. I write and write and write, and then decide the whole thing has gotten out of control, and start a new post, with a new angle, and write and write and write, and then decide THAT post is also out of control, and…
We’re talking hours of my life I will never get back.
I am coming to the conclusion that this post is just not meant to be written by me. It’s not that I don’t have the knowledge, or the experience. It’s just that I don’t have anything to add to the conversation about color, and also I have generally learned my lessons about color after making ridiculous mistakes about it, and also I feel like I might be losing my mind.
That last bit has nothing to do with color or even knitting in general. It’s just that being in England is making my head spin. Mr. Trask and I have planned this move for the past two years, and yet it never quite seemed real. Now, it is real, and that is both wonderful and weird. We are still turning to each other from time to time and saying, “We live here?” Please don’t think I’m not grateful to be here, because I am. It’s just an odd feeling: everything is a little bit difficult. It’s much harder to get a bank account or a cell phone contract here than in the States – and we still don’t have any furniture – and meanwhile lots of boxes of books are arriving – all that jazz. Meanwhile, many points of reference that I had taken for granted are suddenly not there.
Here's an ugly rug I knit a long time ago.
Just to pick an example out of the air, think of when you go to the yarn shop. Picture, say, the biggest yarn shop in the world, with all the brands of yarn all laid out. There’s Red Heart, there’s Malabrigo, there’s Debbie Bliss, there’s Miss Babs. Now, when you see Red Heart, you know it’s going to be reasonably priced, even cheap. When you see Malabrigo, you know it’s going to be wooly and soft, and much more expensive. When you see Debbie Bliss, you know it’s going to be somewhere in between the two, but a good choice for lots of projects. When you see Miss Babs, you know it’s hand painted and made by a small woman-owned company. Right?
You have all that information just in your brain, because you have been surrounded with this information on knitting for years. Now, if you’ve ever trued to buy yarn in another country, think of what it was like try to figure out what was what. Of course, with yarn, you have some background information: you can look on the label, you can feel the yarn, you can smell it, etc. It takes a little more time, but it’s interesting and fun, because yarn is something in which you are interested and probably an accidental expert. [Plus, there are such things as international yarn companies, so you’ll recognize some of the yarn, but you were probably shopping for something new you could try, right?]
And here's an ugly blanket...
The problem with moving to another country is that you have to go through that process with everything: dish detergent, clothing, restaurants, television shows. There are some familiar brands, touchstones of a sort, but lots and lots of the things around us are entirely new. [Meanwhile, as mentioned before, our house is entirely empty, so we keep having to go through this process for every little thing.]
Also, not to go off on a rant (too late), think of the cleaning supplies aisle in the grocery store. There are all different kinds of cleaners there, for all different purposes. Your eye sorts these by brand and logo at first, because you know in the back of your head that Cascade is usually dishwasher soap while Palmolive is diswashing liquid. If you don’t have that easy sort function installed in your head yet, there’s just a lot more noise that you have to interpret.
So…all of this has made me feel the littlest bit like I know nothing. This is one of the reasons people decide to live abroad for a while: having this experience is like hitting “reset” on your brain and realizing assumptions you were making that you never would have noticed. It’s absolutely good for me to live in a place where I don’t know which clothing shop is the “cool for thirty-somethings” one, because it frees me to just buy what I like. Ditto for restaurants and everything else. However, at this point I am tired and a little bit scared that I won’t figure all of this out. Of course, I will; this is just a part of culture shock. [Imagine what it would be like if I were living somewhere further away, or somewhere that required me to speak a different language! What a wimp I am.]
And, really, I wanted to move here – I am loving this city – this is what some might call a luxury problem. I’m going to be fine, so why am I complaining?
And here is a sweater I knit that, when I showed it to a friend, she said, "Wow, it was really brave of you to pick that color."
Anyway, the point is that I think trying to write the post about color is one too many things on my plate. Instead, I’m thinking that I’ll give you a few thoughts about color in a series of posts, so that I don’t have to try to pull my thoughts together into something more coherent. So here are a few things:
- First reason I should not write about color for you guys: One of my favorite outfits when I was in high school was a pair of orange climbing pants and a purple sweatshirt.
- Second reason: When I started writing fiction, the very first story I wrote was about a woman trying to describe color to a woman who had been born blind.
- Secret about me: I think beginning knitters should be given variegated yarn. Based on the beginners’ classes I’ve taught, this seems to help them distinguish one stitch from another, and it helps them talk about knitting (“so I pull the green over the red?”), and it’s fun to watch the colors change.
- Another secret: I have knit, not just one, not just two, but four hideous blankets due to poor color combinations.
So, you people tell me your color secrets, or theories, or fears, and I’ll respond and sympathize! And, hey, if anyone knows where I might find gluten-free granola in England…
Daytime US-to-UK Flights: One Knitter’s Perspective
We live here now. Here is cool.
Well, folks, we have arrived in Oxford, and a lovely autumn it is in the City of Dreaming Spires. We took a couple of days to get here, because (as we often do) we complicated our trip more than was strictly necessary. But if you haven’t yet realized that Mr. Trask and I tend to overcomplicate things, well, you just haven’t been paying attention.
First, though, a list of things that we have done, and therefore will not have to do again for a while. Everyone celebrate with us that we have:
- Gotten six suitcases and four carry-on items through Heathrow, to a hotel, to the car service, to Oxford, and up the narrow, tall stairs to the first floor of our home.
- Taken delivery of a very large mattress.
- Wrestled said mattress up the aforementioned narrow, tall stairs.
- Located Vicks VapoRub in a city that for a time seemed not to know (or care) what it was. Turns out, it was just those two pharmacists.
Checked Baggage, IAD - LHR. That's right: this is just our checked baggage.
There were other victories, but today it is enough to be able to say that we will not have to deal with that stupid mattress for at least 11 months and change. I might be willing to toss it out the window when the time came, if only it would fit out the window. Perhaps we could shear it in half with very sharp scissors.
But I digress. The main point of today’s post is that we arrived just fine, and that you ought to try a daytime flight from the US to England, if such an opportunity comes your way.
Daytime flights are not the norm by any stretch, as those of you know who have staggered into Heathrow, bleary-eyed and emotionally shattered from trying to sleep in coach. There is one out of Dulles and I think similar flights out of Boston and New York. A friend recommended it to us, and I do think it made the whole move more bearable. Mr. Trask is 6’5″, and neither of us sleeps well on a plane. I know that, if you’re just popping over for a vacation, you don’t want to waste one of your days off on a plane – but, for me, the day I save by flying at night is a day I spend puking due to sleep deprivation and jet lag, so really it’s all the same.
Here's another photo of me knitting on the flight. To see more of my face (and less of my hands), check out the post before this one.
I will admit that the idea of knitting for 8 hours on a plane might have had some bearing on this decision. Why sleep when you can knit? That’s what I say. [Mr. Trask, on the other hand, thought he could get some work done on the flight. Poor Mr. Trask.]
I’ve broken down the flight by significant events, so that you can decide for yourself.
Breakfast. The first thing that happens is that they serve breakfast. Unlike breakfast on an overnight flight, one is entirely alert for this breakfast, and it’s all the grimmer for it. The jello cake of scrambled eggs, the seedy grime of the sausages: one is lucid for the entire horror. Beware! And consider bringing a breakfast bar or two. That said, the meal is served with strong tea, which is just what you need if you have slept a total of 6 hours over the previous two days. But that might just have been me.
Entertainment. Knitting, of course – but also a movie or two. I watched The King’s Speech on my laptop. (It won out as being more apt than Dr. Horrible’s Sing-Along Blog). It was just as good the second time, although I was still distracted by the actor playing Churchill. I kept thinking, “Why would they let Wormtail be Prime Minister?” Meanwhile, the Corinne sweater plugged along very nicely, and I had no trouble from the flight attendants about my knitting needles.
The Corinne Sweater, which just looks like a big blob of knitting here, has shown a rebellious streak recently.
Social Life. Everyone else is awake, too, so you have the opportunity to scope out other knitters. I saw one woman sitting in the back knitting a lace scarf, which pleased me. She didn’t seem to understand that we were part of a worldwide fellowship of knitters, but it was encouraging to see someone else plugging along. Later, one of the flight attendants asked about my sweater, and referred me back to the lace-knitter. All friends together here!
Very Little Else. On this daytime flight, you are not told to go to sleep. You simply sit in your seat, accepting refreshments when they appear, and occasionally getting up to use the facilities or to stretch. It’s lovely not to be asked to curl into a tiny ball and stare at your eyelids until you drift off, only to be awoken suddenly by the snore of the person two rows ahead of you. It’s a real luxury, I tell you. I spent much of the flight trying to decide what to do about the Corinne sweater, which was eventually almost finished except for the tiniest little problem: the sleeves don’t match.
The very last bit of yarn for Corinne - which I finished in the car to Oxford the day after the flight.
I must have cast on for the incorrect number for one sleeve or the other. I’m not going back, though. I’ve been happily knitting along, alternating skeins like a good girl, and I don’t think I have the emotional maturity to rip back and fix a sleeve. Also, the question of what to do is an interesting one to me. Just adding a few rows to the shorter sleeve will be obvious. So I’m tossing around a few solutions that take advantage of the obviousness of any fix to create an interesting feature of the sweater. All suggestions that do not involve ripping back are welcome.
A Late Snack. If you’re on a flight from 9:30 a.m. until 5:30 p.m. (origin time) or 10:30 p.m. (landing place time), you would think they would at least give you lunch. They don’t, although they do give you a snack. The snack is just fine.
A Much Shorter Line at Immigration. This is key, as well. It would seem that there aren’t as many flights landing at Heathrow at 10 p.m. as there are at 8 a.m. This leads to a much shorter line at immigration, and less of a crush going through customs, as well. There’s a catch to landing at 10 p.m. local time, of course – it’s not a great time to continue your travel. We stayed in an airport at Heathrow and got a car down to Oxford the next day – another delay that you probably wouldn’t consider for a vacation, but that kept me from lying on the floor and crying at several points.
So – do consider it, if you’re looking at a longer-than-two-weeks trip to Britain, or if you’re high maintenance the way I am, or even if you just want to spend an entire day knitting. The flight was only about 3/4 full, which made an enormous difference, as well.
The next post will tell you about our house and what I saw in London (although, sadly, I did not make it to Wool Modern) – and about plans for the future. Ooh, aah!
What have you guys been up to?
We Have Arrived.
For those keeping score at home: Mr. Trask and I made it to our hotel at Heathrow and room service has just arrived. Here’s me, knitting on the flight:
I Knit on Planes!
I like this photo because (although I look a leetle bit bloated) the blurring makes it look like I knit really quickly.
And now for some nice chicken.
Exit, Pursued by Many Boxes (in overseas mail)
UPDATE: I’m having trouble posting photos from my new computer – must add later. Bah!
UPDATE II: Photos and links added!
Knitting and one of P.G. Wodehouse's Blandings omnibi: perfect plane companions.
Darling readers, I am writing this from Dulles International Airport, from which our daytime flight to London will be departing in just an hour and a half. So you all know that I have survived this far! We have six (6) suitcases checked in, only two (2) of which were over weight. Fabulous Friend Nancy kept telling us that it would be much cheaper to bring items in a suitcase than to ship them, and I can tell you, having visited the UPS store yesterday, that she is ever so right.
The past few weeks have been really hectic, between arrangements for visas, preparing our house for sale (closed last night!), and lots and lots of freecycling. [Have you all heard of Freecycle? It’s kind of like a yarn giveaway for everything else.] I’m not a great mover or packer, and I must admit that I was at the USPS Automated Postal Center at midnight last night, mailing the last of the giveaway packages and sending a few surprises out as well. [People, I love the APC like we grew up together, but no one should be there at midnight.]
So, our flight boards in a half hour, and I’m prepared for our super-exciting daytime flight. I wouldn’t take a daytime flight to the UK if this were for a vacation, because you lose a day to travel. That said, I have high hopes for it in this case. Mr. Trask is 6’5″ tall, and neither of us is a good sleeper on planes – whereas he is a good writer on a plane, and I am a good knitter-and-movie-watcher. We’ll see how this goes. I haven’t had much sleep in the past three days, so am hoping to stay up on the flight and then crash when we arrive at Heathrow at 10 p.m. local time.
Corinne in Charcoal: too much contrast?
While on the plane, I’ll be knitting Corinne from Knitty, watching whatever terrible movie is available on the flight, and reading from Life at Blandings, an omnibus of three P.G. Wodehouse novels. This particular book has come with me on many overseas trips – it’s been to Greece, to France, to Italy, and back and forth to the UK many times. Blandings novels are the ultimate comfort reading to me – they’re well-written and full of social slapstick, and they always have happy endings – but the complex nature of Wodehouse’s plotting (and the fact that he wrote so darned many novels) means that the reader doesn’t quite see how it’s all going to work out until the end. [But I digress. And I suspect that I have mentioned all this to you people before.]
Back to Knitting: I thought about doing another knitting challenge like the ones I did for Hibernian and Heathrow, but couldn’t get it together to put the right yarn into my bag. Corinne is a fun sweater in that it’s knit in one piece, side-to-side. I’m working in a kettle-dyed yarn, and the white-gray-black contrast in this particular brand of yarn may be a bit too much for garter stitch (I’m still deciding). That said, I’m enjoying watching the garment take shape. If I finish the sweater mid-flight, I’m going to try to make something out of this pink ball of yarn that I found at the bottom of my purse (don’t ask). Not sure how much yarn is in this ball or what I can make. We shall see!
Corinne with mysterious pink ball of yarn. What could it become?
They’re calling our flight, so I must add photos and get out of here. So many of you have e-mailed, commented, or tweeted to offer us encouragement and good wishes – thank you so, so much. And those of you in the area were supportive and patient and kind through this entire process. I can’t say enough about how much I love you all, dear readers, whether we’ve met in person or not. Next post will be in Blighty – tell me in the comments what you want to hear about first!
Knit Like You Mean It. 