The UnSTABLE Knitter: March 2007

Once I actually started hauling out the knitting I've done since my last update, I was kind of surprised. I've been busy, all right. Just not on a single project. Knitting infidelity is just in my nature.

But first, the outcome of that luverly sunshiny yarn.

I'm calling it the Sunshine Shawl of Absolutely No Subtlety, because- well, I suppose you can see why! It started with the choice to use short row shaping to make something roundish (inspired by Knitty's Bloom shawl pattern), which made the stripes run longways like rays of sunshine. By the time I got to the end of the body section, I had plenty of yarn left over, so I figured I'd drive the imagery home with a sledgehammer and add a pointy edging.

It was good to get it out of my system. And boy, did it make me happy while I was knitting it. It still needs blocking, but I'm reasonably pleased with it as a quick, soothing knit in the middle of a long winter.

After that- at least, I think it was after that- I started two other projects, both from the stash.

The dishcloth is part of a stack of dishcloths I'm making, six years too late. See, when my grandma taught me to knit, she bought me some sparkly Sugar and Cream and a book of dishcloth patterns, on the condition that I knit her some dishcloths. I intended to, but the first patterns I tried were too hard and came out looking like the incarnation of suck. I proceeded to mostly forget about my promise until recently, when I started making dishcloths for Da House. I put as many handknit dishcloths in the kitchen as I thought were reasonable, which was only a few more than fit in the drawer, but my appetite for dishcloth knitting was not sated. Which was when I remembered my Ancient Promise to Nana. I hope this will help me kill off the unending cone of Sugar and Cream that's haunting my yarn shelves.

The sock is made from souvenir yarn; I made a very amateur hat for The Peony with it for Christmas a few years ago (which she graciously treasured, even though I made it exactly not to her specifications). It was also my first experience with yarn that came in a hank, which meant mostly that I sat on my bed for hours trying to untangle this messy new kind of skein I had discovered. Not a pleasant experience. The sock, thankfully, is only a little bit enormous on my foot, instead of the usual circulation-obstructing tight socks I usually make. I figure it's wool, so I can adjust it somehow, right? Right?

Okay. Brief pause for a less enthusiastic moment. I loved Eunny Jang's twisted I-cord bind-off, and I had planned to make a really awesome tank out of it. But! I had next to no idea about sweater construction when I planned this. Plus, the yarn is recycled cotton from a thrift store sweater, and the way the plies are, it's basically like knitting with three strands of crappy string held together. Say goodbye, sweater.

Because you, and your accompanying yarn, are hitting the trash can. How's that for stash and WIP reduction?

(Someone please remind me to pull out my needles before I set the trash can on fire.)

And now, as promised...

It's the How Many FOs Will This Skein Make? Show!

The goal is pretty simple. I take one skein of yarn and make a lot of little things out of it. The more, the better. Theoretically, all the same. If you have frequent second sock episodes or can't stand knitting in garter stitch, well, this is probably not the game for you, but you're welcome to watch. (But if you must faint, please do it outside; I just "organized" the stash, and anywhere you fall you're likely to disarrange hours of difficult yarn wrangling.)

For my hopefully-not-too-monotonous one-skein kniting premiere...

It's a Mad, Mad, Mad, Mad, Mitten-Making Marathon!

The mittens are roughly baby-sized and thumbless. I'm making them from Lorri's pattern. The yarn is a supersoft acrylic from my other grandma, who had it lying around somewhere. (I appreciate all gifts of yarn, so I try not to ask too many questions.) The yarn is very very very plain white, so I'm thinking I'll make a big batch of mittens, then use yarn scraps to embroider something small and cute and mitten-y on the backs. The finished mitts will be going to KnitWits, because what I could I do with a massive pile of baby mittens? I made two pairs this afternoon (each mitten takes me about an hour right now) and I'm not even bored with the pattern yet.

And did you know those plastic zippered things that bedsheets come in are perfect for storing knitting? Seriously. Actual zippers, and no way are the needles poking through that plastic. It's a little ghetto, but I'd rather spend the money on yarn. (Except that, like the rest of the high-church knitting world, I gave up buying yarn for Lent. Rats.)