A Bag

A while ago, I posted some pictures of some bright yarns that I was making into a bag.  

Noro Wadaiko and some Custom Woolen Mills 2 ply in the most incredible turquoise.

Well, they were knit up and they were felted.  And that was the last you have heard of them.  I have been thinking of them for a while now.  

The bag felted much much shorter than I expected, leaving it looking a little wide and shallow, but still very workable.  

My first design element was to pop some grommets into the sides.  I have no idea why, but I think it had to do with liking the way the silver and the turquoise look together.  They might have a function and they might just be there for looks.  I'll know that once I get a little farther into the finishing.  

My plan for the handle is for a braided handle where one of the strands was a silver chain and the other two were the same fabric as the bag istself.  The chain's job is to carry the weight of the bag and to give it just a little bit of flash.    They will be attached to the bag with some D rings of silver metal  that I have around here somewhere.  If that doesn't work, then I will have to find a turquoise leather handle.  They can be had, but I really wanted this to be an in house project.

I am going to put a zipper in the top.  I can't stand big bags that don't have some way to keep everything inside securely.  A zipper will also help pull my somewhat wide bag a little narrower.  I'm not sure how much I can do, but I know that the stability a zipper will give is something I will appreciate.

It needs a good lining.  With a lining, I can create some pockets for small stuff and I can tuck the zipper in much more professionally. 

Tomorrow's chore for  the bag and I, is to search for it.  I'm kind of looking forward to it.  I hope to find something that echos the Wadaiko colours.  Something sturdy and funky, but conservative, middle aged funky (Is there such a thing?), not teenage funky. Grownup funky.  Well you will see.  If I can't find it, I'm leaning towards granny smith apple green.  

Its kind of fun playing with this.  I haven't done a bag before and I can't wait to carry this eye popping summery thing around with me.  

A Different Sort of Knitting Thing

Sometimes knitting isn't just knitting.  Sometimes knitting is life and sometimes knitting is what takes you from dark places and into the light.  There are all sorts of knitting stories on the horizon, on blogs, in books, in the hearts and minds of so many knitters who have gained much from their association with the sticks and strings.  

Then sometimes, if you show up in the right place at the right time, there is that little something extra.  

One of the extras I have been following for a while now is the Savvy Girls podcast.  To say I am a devoted follower might be putting it mildly.  

I had the opportunity to go all 'fangirl' as I passed one of the Savvy Girls at a place and time that I was pretty sure was inappropriate (not a bathroom) or might easily have felt inappropriate to said Savvy.    I resisted the urge and then spent the next couple of days wishing I had at least stopped and said thank you for the podcasts.  Note to self: Resisting anything that could be seen to be 'fangirl' is usually smart.  Missing an opportunity to say thank you is foolish. 

If you haven't heard of the Savvy Girls Podcast, you should.  They talk knitting and travel and sister silliness in a way that reminds me of my own sisters.  You will be guaranteed visits by SavvyMom and various and sundry other Savvy friends and relatives, most notably the gerbils, seriously interesting gerbils (and I don't even like small rodents).  If you listen to the whole archive, you get the bonus of hearing Savvy Dad and his wisdom and wit too.

The Savvy Girls don't just knit.  Savvy Melanie is a singer and actress.  She has had several productions in the Fringe Festival here and has taken the shows around North America.  

Savvy Melanie's latest venture is  Knitting All the Day, a CD of knitting songs from the early 20th century.   Who knew?

Well, Melanie did. 

My personal favourite is 'Knocking at the Knitting Club' but I confess to a fondness for the whole darn thing. 

The radio just doesn't play songs like these and for those long drives across the prairies, a CD like this is a must.  It's probably better if you listen and resist the urge to sing along unless you are alone.  Then sing away.  It is the perfect album for it. These are the perfect songs.

Peppy, happy, sad, purposeful.  Those are the things that come to mind when I listen to the previews.  

Now I must go and sort out formats and such so I can purchase!

There are 5

but I cannot count the plain red one.  Its got a short row heel and I am off anything but a tube right now with a heel day in the future.  I think it is part of the knitting funk leftover and dumped on a poor pair of socks.  

I was really going to open today's blog as a letter to the poor blog.  I neglected it today in the most heartless way.  I stayed in bed and watched the last episode of Pride and Prejudice.  I chose Mr. Darcy over the blog, which would be quite clearly forgivable if I had been watching the Colin Firth Pride and Prejudice.  But it wasn't.  I was watching the BBC version and the Mr. Darcy isn't the sort of Mr. Darcy that I would ever make a fool out of myself over.  

But it was Mr. Darcy and Austen tells my favourite stories of all time.  Sorry blog.  

Wow

Thank you all for the encouragement!  Its nice to know I am not so loopy as I first thought. 

After Christmas, here I come.  

In the meantime, a just a little Christmas modern.

   

A Penchant for Little Things

For anyone who has hung around this blog long enough, it will come as no surprise, that I have a penchant for small things.  I have a few books I have spoken of and many more that I haven't.  I am pretty sure I have shown a few pictures, though in my searching, I couldn't find a time when I did.

 I love little things.  I have them hiding in a box, because I have no where to put them.  While I would love to have a huge cabinet house,  in all my years of searching, I haven't found anything that would work at a price I was willing to pay.  But now I think I have.

A local raveler was looking to get rid of a small cabinet leftover from a bathroom renovation.  See that wee bottom shelf?  Garden.  Inside there is plenty of space for some wee rooms, a living room, a dining room, maybe a bedroom. Might be space for an attic too, if I had another shelf. It won't be huge and grand, but it will be a wee slice of miniature.  I just have to convince Mr. Needles to put some glass in the center of the door panels.

The cabinet inspired me and has had me thinking small lately . To that end, new knitting needles arrived yesterday.

Let's give it a little context.

The yarn in the picture is Misti Alpaca Laceweight.  The big needle is a 1.5 mm Addi Turbo. The middle needle is a .75mm needle or an 6/0 in US sizing and the wee one is a .5mm or 8/0 US.  I have not lost it completely, though.  As evidence, I submit that there are 3 sizes of needles available for order that are smaller. I'm not sure I could even see a .25 mm needle.

The two wee tiny needles are from Althea Crome, the hands behind the tiny sweater from the film Coraline.  Check out the things she has on her website, Bugknits.com.  Needles, patterns, and a gallery of itty bitty treasure.

I'm contemplating knitting wee soft treasures for in my rooms.  A wee kitchen has to have dishcloths and tablecloths.  A wee living room needs curtains and a blanket to cozy up under tossed across the sofa, a bedroom needs wee garments hanging at the ready and some socks under the bed.  And garden rooms need wee blooms and greenery and quite possibly cats and chickens too.

Right now, I have two sweaters for large men on the go.  I have another blanket on the go too.  All big stuff.     Contemplating itty bitty is the perfect antidote.

The Ravelry Effect

I spoken of Ravelry often here.  Most people who knit have heard of Ravelry and even more delightful, the site is starting to win some serious technical awards because of the way it is constructed and its very very user friendly ways.  

It has become a nice little social network for many of us and it is a great way to meet other local knitters.  But there is always the Ravelry effect.  

One of our local knitters is in hospital on strict bed rest awaiting the birth of her wee one.  She has been moved to a hospital not far away.  I am going to a greenhouse this morning and thought I would get her some flowers.  The problem is that I know her as LilBean and only as LilBean.   

So here I sit, contemplating the delivery of flowers to the hospital saying these are for LilBean, the knitter.  I can see me saying intelligent things to try to explain how I know this person and I can see me explain why I would know her to see her and I can really see me trying to explain it's a knitting thing.   

Yeah.  I can see it now.  Wish me luck.  Here is hoping someone at knitting knows her last name.  

Happy Birthday to us!

If you haven't got a flag, knit one!

Somewhere in the deep archives I have red cotton and white cotton.  I was probably waiting just for this!

Happy Canada Day!

The vest you ask?

Brenda of the comments asked yesterday if I had finished my husbands vest.

Sigh No.  It sits there in a wee basket all its own taunting me, saying not a word but speaking loudly none the less.  I don't have that much to do on it.  I have only the upper body but I have not worked on it a day since last summer.  

I know I mentioned the way the days I worked went through most of the fall.  I worked my regular Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays but for many weeks in a row, I also worked Mondays.  It still gave me 3 days off each week, but for weeks, I did not have 2 off together. I found that so incredibly wearing, to the point when asked to do it again after Christmas, I cried.  I would have been glad to do it, but somehow, there was just nothing left to give. I think it is connected to the over stimulation, the incredible energy that I felt working with knitters searching for yarn.  

My very forgiving hubby's vest has been a victim of that.  I found that following the pattern was hard.  Hard on my eyes, hard on my brain, hard to do when I had no down time after a day of recovery.  Overstimulating. 

Colourwork is like playing a grand symphony.  It is wonderful and marvelous and deeply compelling. There is a pattern to follow flawlessly, there are colours of yarns to change, there is the rhythmic music that flows through you as you create magic on your needles.  Just thinking about it, I can feel that energy weaving it mystic spell.

Knitting lace is a sort of play.  It is fun and challenging and relaxing.  Even the tinking back is fun.  Irritating, but fun so long as you can discover what you did that caused you to reknit yet again.  Ishbel, for all my problems reading the charts, was fun.  

But the colourwork?  The colourwork demands more.  Colourwork at this sort of scale, demands everything and then it asks for just a little more. And for a very long time, I had no more to give.  I was ready only for the relaxing, peaceful joys of garter stitch.        

There is magic in colourwork, but when I get there I want it to be right.  The fall upcoming will be the third fall I have been promising the vest, thinking about it and working on it. It needs to be finished.  

Maybe my plan should be to take it with me camping this summer, where the colourwork can be finished in the great and peaceful glory of the high country.  Where there is nothing more demanded of me than making a meal here and there and to keep the coffee hot, where I scoot my chair around through the day, seeking the sun.  Maybe my plan should be to take it where I have no choice but to work on it.

Two (or 3) extra balls of each of the colours is a bag.  All I need to do, is tuck in the basket with the partially knitted vest and the book and the van is packed for summer knitting.  I will tuck in a little emergency knitting too, but that is only in case of a real emergency, for instance if I finish and have nothing to knit (oh, the horror!). 1 ball of sock yarn is the limit.  

Camping isn't that far away.  I am already starting to air and pack the van.  It's been a real pleasure to spend time this morning thinking about summer knitting, focusing on this marvelous work in progress, firming up a hazy plan for when to get to it.  I have not felt the need to push aside the thought and close my ears to its siren calls.  Must be that I am finally ready.  

Brenda, I owe you one.  Maybe two. Thank you.

Its the little things

A while ago, I managed to get hold of a copy of Jan Messent's Knitted Gardens.  A short time after that, I came across a long hoped for copy of Embroidered Knot Gardens by Owen Davies.

And last week I happened across this little gem.  The Knitted Farmyard by Hannelore Wernhard.

  You can see I have an interest in the wee and small.  

The book is filled with seriously cute things and for 10 bucks, a real gem. Its not a big book, but rather a cute book.

These would be great toys for older children, but mostly I am interested in them for me.  

But I am not the only one.  Check out the Knitted Village of Mersham

True Romance

Here at Chez Needles, we are a pretty pragmatic bunch.  No flowers.  No candy.  No fluff.  Besides, Mr. Needles curled last night and I stopped to see one of my boys.  (Whom are no longer boys, but men.)

We had a lovely dinner together on Sunday evening, and last night, we promised each other that we would never ever make the other watch the Beieber movie.  

Silliness and laughter.  True Romance.    

Bookish

Yes it is that time of year, when I and a few of my compadres challenge ourselves to read more novels. It is 

NAJUREMONOMO!!

Please join us for a little silly and a lot of fun.

I've already advanced from my previous seasons by finishing one novel today!   

It was a short one but it counts.  It was a simple novel, but it was absolutely the right thing to read at this time of year and at this point of my life.

The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnet

For most of us, this has always been seen as a childrens book, but it was first published as a serial story in an adult magazine.  Reading it as an adult is wonderfu.  Its simple message is that the garden will heal, that fresh spring air will heal, that positive thinking will heal. 

A fine little sermonette clothed in a light tale.  Perfect reading for the darkest days of winter.

And in case you didn't notice,  It is getting lighter earlier every single day.  

    Date              sunrise        sunset         length of day   difference        noon alt

Jan 3, 2011	8:50 AM	4:27 PM	7h 37m 07s	+ 1m 26s	12:38 PM	13.7°	147.104
Jan 4, 2011	8:49 AM	4:28 PM	7h 38m 40s	+ 1m 33s	12:39 PM	13.8°	147.104
Jan 5, 2011	8:49 AM	4:29 PM	7h 40m 20s	+ 1m 39s	12:39 PM	13.9°	147.105
Jan 6, 2011	8:49 AM	4:31 PM	7h 42m 05s	+ 1m 45s	12:40 PM	14.0°	147.107
Jan 7, 2011	8:48 AM	4:32 PM	7h 43m 57s	+ 1m 52s	12:40 PM	14.2°	147.109
Jan 8, 2011	8:48 AM	4:34 PM	7h 45m 55s	+ 1m 58s	12:40 PM	14.3°	147.111
Jan 9, 2011	8:47 AM	4:35 PM	7h 47m 59s	+ 2m 03s	12:41 PM	14.4°	147.115

  Now doesn't that just warm the cockles of your heart?

Bawk, bawk, bawk bawk....

I work today.  I have a friend coming to dinner this evening.  Aaaaaack.  I feel as if I am running around like a chicken with its head cut off, to quote the very old farmy saying.  

Whenever I feel like this I recall fondly a radio show from the late 60's.  I give you  Chickenman.  Best listened to rather than watched.  It was radio.  You really ought to re-live it the way it was meant to be.

We got my brother the t-shirt.

'Why? Because you must'

I get it.  I so get it.  

Felted Duck   Slippers

Without Ravelry...  

There is some yellow yarn in my stash.  And I have a brother...

Ravelry.  Some call it the great time suck.  I call it genius.  Why genius?  Because really, if I had not seen these, I'm quite sure, my life would not be complete.  

The quote in this blog title is from the movie 'Blast From the Past'

Because The Camera Is Still In The Van...

Back from camping and, yes the header is correct.  The camera is still outside and it is dark out there, so no photos of extreme camping yet.  Till then, because really, this just made my day...

and if you need a ittle more...

because...well darn it just because. THE best knitting video of all time.

Finding a Primer

Words have always been my friend.  They have provided comfort, fun, information and sometimes consolation.  They took me far away and kept me close to home and gave me adventures no matter how dull, no matter how confined my day to day world was.  And sometimes words abandon me and become a source of bewilderment and pain.

These things are train problems. From grade 5 and possibly even grade 4 math: Two trains are going down a 60 km track toward each other.  The first is traveling x  fast.  The second is traveling y fast. How far will each travel before they meet?

When I see problems like this, the words jumble up on the page into a pile and become incomprehensible.  The letters won't lie down into order and all I can see is that there is going to be a train wreck.  Two trains are going toward each other and they are going to meet and how could it possibly end well?

I found something very like that yesterday and though I cannot make head or tails of the directions, though the particular skill I was trying to learn remains a mystery,  my inability was illuminating. Seeing that pile, that hump of letters, understanding that it was a pile, a jumble, a hump, a hill, was new and yet I know beyond a doubt, I have seen it before, over and over again. Many many times.

The words piled up and no amount of help, no guidance will make those words lie down and behave. I don't have the skills, the words, the language to explain just where the problems are.  It isn't that I don't want to ask but that I am unable. I am mute. The explanation is jumbled up in there too. I sit there feeling foolish, and I am pretty sure sitting watching me is uncomfortable for those around me.

This is the point where some people simply decide that I am stubborn and perverse and not really very bright. Perhaps deciding this gives them a sense of context, a label under which to place me.  Perhaps doing so, gives them so comfort.  I understand that.  I am a big fan of finding comfort.  (My young instructor - what a wonderful young woman she is - made no decisions, applied no labels, slotted me not, though I could see she felt helpless and inadequate. I hope she is reading this.  I'd like her to understand.)  

I developed a headache and that was it for the day.

I drove home feeling ridiculous, feeling like a mystified 10 year old, feeling incredibly stupid yet knowing that I am not, knowing that I am reasonably intelligent, knowing that knitting is my territory as sure as words have always been.  If this is how kids feel who suffer from learning disabilities, oh sweet heavens, what a horrid thing to have to live through without any idea of how to cope.

At least I know that if these words never order themselves, I can put the stitches on 2 needles and do a perfectly marvelous graft and no one will ever know of my little 'issue'.

This is not the first time I have come across train wrecks in knitting.   I think it is the source of my nervousness about patterns.  I think it might be why I completely 'get' Elizabeth Zimmermann and Barbra Walker's work.  They don't describe things word for word, they don't mix numbers and letters. They are spare of words and I delight in that and now, I completely understand why.  It also makes my frustration, impatience and tenseness with counting to 2 in lace and with at least one perfectly wonderful scarf pattern I recently tried, completely understandable.

I'm not sure why, so suddenly, after all these many years, I recognized the primer with which to break the jumbles that form.  Perhaps it is age, perhaps it is the state of my vision and its moving, weaving, waving letters, perhaps it is that knitting provides the framework. I doubt that I can stop the words from jumbling when they will, but at least I understand that there is something specific happening and maybe one day soon I will break the code to swiftly putting the words back into orderly rows.

I'm going to work through the this wee graft and find the words to explain how I have to think about it.  Part of my job in being a student was to give my instructor other ways to describe it to people. Maybe struggling through this with this new primer, will lead to a second value or a second letter to break this mysterious code.  

Just a Little Silly

Hmmmm.  Can this be right?  My horoscope for today.

 You like the idea of exploring your fantasies, but you hate the thought of wasting all that time. Unfortunately, you may have such a strong belief in the mundane world of business that it's nearly impossible to set it aside and slip into your imagination. Nevertheless, you will find it easier to justify guilt-free dream chasing if you call it "strategic planning" and actually put it on your calendar for the day. (from Rick Levine Tarot.com)

Strong belief in the world of business?  I don't think so.  Unless it is the yarn business.  Justify dream chasing?  Not me.  I am a firm believer in wasting time wisely.  It is, however, vital to schedule dream chasing into my day.  While knitting.

Here is a little delightful something in case you need a little help chasing dreams and wasting time wisely.  

Sigh

I wish I felt more inspired this morning, but all I want to do is sleep.  So why am I up? 

I will lead you to something that has been running though my mind for days now.  Mr Needles thought of it around the campfire.  

And if that one isn't pretty enough for you, redux,

Cleaning is a messy business

It was coming for quite a while.  A cabinet in my study needed cleaning.  Most of my furniture is shelving but for one glass cabinet, and it has been bugging me. With the new chair and the seating opportunities it offered, the study needed a rearrangement.

As ever when you clean, you create a big mess.

Looking a little 'Hoarders', isn't it?  

The cabinet was emptied sorted ordered and moved.  Casters were put on the bottom of the nice new blue chair. The desk was moved to its new spot.  

The WIP pile was gone through and any marginal items were taken out and decided upon. Frogging happened here.   I'm down to one basket of things I know I will finish.  My Lehe shawl.  My River Valley shawl. Some socks. There is another basket of projects that are actively being worked on.  The Sandy sweater, the skirt, some socks.    

All the bits and pieces that accumulate from the normal work of knitting are put away.  The bin with all the bits and pieces, all the leftover bits of projects were admired and played with.  I have some very pretty little bits and pieces as well as some mundane sock bits.

There were a few odd balls of yarn to be added to the sock yarn bin.     For some reason, likely the sheer size and weight of it, this bin, is always at the bottom of the pile of bins.  Most inconvenient, since it is the one I dig in the most.

The long and the short of it is, that from its earlier disaster phase,  the study is looking much better now.  (Amazing find of the day?    This place has a floor!)  I can get in and out with ease.  I can see the spinning corner.

It isn't perfect yet.  Not by a long shot, but it is much much better.  There are drawers to go through.  There is a works in progress cabinet to restore to its rightful place beside my chair. There are bookcases to dust, and shelves to put to rights.   There are printed things and patterns to go through and a pile of yarn to take to knitters in need.

But, all in all, the study is a much cheerier place this morning.  And I am cheerier for it.

Hearing Lace

I don't change the CDs I listen to in my car a lot.  I don't do radio, but I have a couple of CD's that I could listen to for a VERY long time before I get tired.  Being spring and all, I decided it was time for a change.  I pulled out one of my favourites, Essential Bach.

Its been a while since I listened to the purity and genius of Bach.  I was also struck by how much Bach understood my knitting.  Listen to this:

The Tocatta and Fugue in D Minor for Organ.  

The opening notes perfectly describe the way your heart feels when you discover an error rows below in you lace knitting. Discovery to 0:47.  Disbelief.

1:20, a raging debate:  Do you throw the whole thing in the darkest corner of the coset for eternity?  A year?  A day? Yes. No. Yes... Oh heaven help me.

2:13 throes of agony.

2:40, your decision is made.

3:00, dropping stitches .  How to fix?  Which are the bad stitches?  How far back must you go?  Tiny questions racing thorugh your mind as you begin the repair.  Hundreds of questions and doubt.

3:40.  The truth of what needs repair becomes clear.  

4:20 the reknit. Up. Down.  Good repair. Bad repair.  Rip back.  Redo. Better.  

5:18, it just might work. You hope. You wish.  You pray.  

6:18 Composure.  It worked, and you move forward, rhythmiclly, joyously, with careful deliberate moves.

7:34, Only moments of pleasure knitting this lace are left.

7:46, you delight that it is done.

7:53 You are proud of your work.

Then just as you reach the end, you realize you will miss it even as you know it is out there for the world to see.  

It is doubtful that Bach knew lace knitting, other than to wear it, but he did understand the spirit of knitting lace.

Listen again.  Imagine your hands, and watch them move.  It is lace.  Lace with a problem, and you fix it.

As a fiftyish woman, one of the things I get to enjoy is waking up at odd hours and finding myself unable to get back to sleep.

I could stay in bed and worry about it, but I usually get up and do something.  This is where knitting saves the day. I knit a lot last night. Most of the night in fact. I crawled back to bed at 4:40, and slept till 8 a.m. 

My plans for the day are going to have to be abbreviated.  Its errand morning and knitting afternoon.  I planned to be on my way to town by now, to wash the car, change its oil, go to the drugstore, look for a couple nice summery t-shirts, have lunch and knit with friends, and then wind up the day with groceries. There were a few other pit stops to make but I can't remember them now.    

I'll have to drop a few of those stops, but I'm darn sure I'm not cutting out knitting.  

One of the things to fall this morning is a good and proper post.  The inspiring post I was planning to write will have to wait and all you get today is drivel.  

Would you accept my apologies if I bring you some Smarties? Junior Mints?