HPKCHC: February Wrap-Up

February went fast. I suppose that shouldn't come as much of a surprise, since it's the shortest month of the year, but it gets me every year.

On the knitting front, progress was somewhat slow. I accomplished three knit projects for HPKCHC, but nothing nearly as monumental as last month's stash cleanup project. Still, I can add this little guy to my list of achievements:



He's an Ood, and I'm enormously proud of him because I knit the whole thing without referring to any kind of pattern at all. That little brain is even crochet, and I figured the whole thing out on my own. It turns out that if you understand how to knit a garment to fit a part of the human body, you also have a pretty good idea of how to knit something that looks like that part of the body. Go figure.

I feel the need to address one point of last month's HPKCHC accomplishments: the 12-month plan. Now, I knew full well that I was never going to follow that plan. I am just not that kind of knitter. I get distracted. I am unfaithful. There's a reason I never posted that plan here, and that reason is that I only ever half-heartedly (maybe only quarter-heartedly) intended to follow it.

With that disclaimer, I think I can feel pretty good that I even picked up something off the list at all: those pink cable socks that I was going to knit while I was in North Dakota. I did in fact start them while there, but size 0 needles and splitty Tofutsies got old after a while. This month I did actually pull them out of hibernation, finish up those blasted cables on the ankle, and turn the second heel. Currently, these socks are the purse socks, and they are roughly mid-gusset. That is much more progress than I made on them in the last several months, so I'm giving myself a (small) pat on the back.

As far as HPKCHC goes, the secret project will remain secret from the blog for the time being, as will the song I wrote for History of Magic, because I'm totally embarrassed to be one of those people who writes filk and then posts it on the internet. Also, mine is nowhere near as cool or funny as Tom Smith's, so if you want to listen to filk from an Ann Arborite, go listen to his.

I don't know what next month will bring, knitting-wise. I'm hoping to do some knitting to sell on Etsy, as a small financial experiment, and I have a commission to finish up. But I won't know what the HPKCHC assignments will be until the month actually begins, so I've lined up a few interesting things in my Ravelry queue, just in case they happen to fit the assignments... stay tuned.

Charms: It makes me smile

My Charms assignment went more quickly than I thought; taking out the laundry and dishes and midnight snacks in between, it was probably two, or at most three, hours from casting on to taking coy half-self-portraits.

The January Charms assignment:

This month you will be learning The Patronus Charm.

Expecto Patronum

Knitting or crocheting as a cure for seasonal depression. Self explanatory. Pretty much knit anything that will make YOU happy. May not be a gift for someone else. No matter how much you NEED to get a beret made by the 9th for your best friends birthday.

And the finished assignment:


And it worked; I am feeling relaxed and happy after knitting this in a way I haven't felt in quite a while, and here are seven reasons why:

1. The yarn. It's Manos Silk Blend. It feels like clouds and baby skin on my head.
   
2. It was instant gratification knitting. I don't do a lot of instant gratification knitting. But this? This is like record time for a project. I have knit dishcloths that took longer than this. Accomplishing goals improves my mood.
   
3. I have a deep and abiding love for purple. If I could produce a corporeal Patronus, it might just turn out to be a hyperintelligent shade of lavender. I saw this yarn and had. to. have. it. I identify with purple, and have since I was writing intensely serious poems on the back of my science papers in middle school. This is my color.
   
4. I have more of this yarn left over. I could make another one if I wanted. I could make matching wristlets or something. I could keep the leftovers as a pet. Point is, the fun's not over yet.
   
5. It's reversible- it looks just as cute with the purl side out. Maybe cuter.
   
6. Successful pattern adaptation. This thing is a Calorimetry, except it's nothing like a Calorimetry. Nicer rib. More delicate yarn. Less winter necessity, more hair accessory. And dudes...
   
   It has ties. Oh yeah. I kicked this pattern's butt.
   
7. I lied. There is no seven. This makes me happy too, somehow.

One assignment down. If I can knock out the DADA assignment (a tiny little mug cozy) tomorrow, that leaves me the rest of the month for Herbology and Quidditch. It might even leave me time to try my hand at some of the other courses...

Soar on, Ravenclaw!

(Oh, that polka-dot blanket that the teddy bear is lying on? That's what you got me for Christmas, Nana.)

Unresolved

Every year I agonize over whether I should make a New Year's Resolution. I know they're not effective for me; I know that as soon as I miss a day, I'm done for the year. But it seems like such a nice thing, to set a big goal at the beginning of a new year. I like challenges. (I just don't always like following through on them.)

I'm not feeling guilty about it this year: I'm not bothering with any resolutions. There's too much to do already, and it would feel stupid and self-centered for me to try to toss some vanity weight or spend my energies on something that just doesn't matter. Besides, diet food is expensive and doesn't taste good.

I am, however, capable of committing to impossible goals if the goal itself is completely inconsequential and also involves yarn. I know this because I signed myself up for the Harry Potter Knit and Crochet House Cup, and I'm totally psyched.

The HPKCHC is a Ravelry-only affair (so stop slacking and make it your New Year's Resolution to get on Ravelry! The wait list is only a few days now) in which you get points for homework assignments in various Hogwartian classes. (That word? I hate that word. It showed up in the most tense moments of HP7 and I spent a full minute stumbling over that word. "Hogwartians?" Seriously? I wonder how long poor JK agonized over that word choice before she decided nothing else would work.)

Anyway, as I say, you attempt various homework assignments, earning points for your house. It's totally awesome. And if you didn't sign up yet... you're too late. Sorry. Next term. For now you get to wait while we have all the fun without you, haha.

I'll put a box up in the sidebar with my HPKCHC progress soon, and I may even get back to actual knitblogging. But I won't promise anything, because that would be too much like a New Year's Resolution- and that would pretty well guarantee that this blog would be dead for good in about a week.

It ain't your grandma's knitting.

The poor unfortunates who come into contact with me for any significant period of time soon find out that knitting has a culture all its own. And that culture isn't what you might expect from the stereotypes of knitters the big culture clings to. There are still grandmothers knitting scratchy things out of crappy acrylic, and there are still pregnant women knitting tiny booties and caps, but they're not the bulk of the knitting community.

How can you tell that knitters aren't as mild and sweet as Muggles think? Look at what they're knitting.

There are patterns out there that would make your grandma blush. Heck, some of them make me blush. Thongs, bras, pasties, and willy warmers are just the beginning. Today, for some reason, I keep running across patterns representing the male anatomy. Dishcloths. Purses. Chapstick cozies. Stuffed models. (British/Anglophile readers: you know what I meant.) Pillows with male bits poking out. I am deadly serious. I swear, I'm not looking for them.

And not only are there patterns, people actually make these things. Cruising through the finished objects at Ravelry, I just keep stumbling over them. The things are everywhere, apparently making up something like 2% of projects- which doesn't seem like much, unless you browse a few hundred patterns at a time.

As my poor Muggle housemate says every time I tell him about the exploits of assembled knitters, knitters have their own culture. It's weird. And this time, I can join him in saying, "I don't get it."