Learning

Even though I think most of us tend to shy away from learning/trying new things, I enjoy the process immensely (that's not to say that I don't have my own "But I don't wanna!" moments. Just ask Phil how long he's been trying to get me to try kite skiing). If it's something I'm genuinely interested in, I'm totally there. There's just something about those "A-HAH!" moments that gets me, you know? When the lights come on and the previously rambly bits and bobs suddenly come together and you just get it?? I love that. Can't get enough of it. Bring it on.

Last night I finished my second EVER sewing project, the Patchwork Fabric Basket. Now that I'm over the requisite "Squealing with delight while forcing encouraging each and every person I come into contact with to look at it and offer appropriate accolades for it's absolute cuteness" phase, I think I can take a step back and focus on the lessons I learned while completing this friggin' adorable little basket that I can't believe I made all by myself. Whoops. Ahem. Sorry about that. Yes, lessons learned! Here we go:

1. It gets easier with practice

When I first started working on this project, I spent an unbelievable amount of time cutting up the 24 little 2x2 inch squares for the patchwork bands. I would look at the fabric, measure, straighten, measure again, cut, and - let's be honest - I mostly managed my own interpretations of squares rather than, you know, actual squares. This despite having the use of a mat, a quilter's transparent ruler thingie, and a roller cutter doohicky (yeah, clearly I need to learn the lingo). And yet last night, I was zipping along, no worries, and my pieces were mostly actually cut straight and to the proper measurements. So there you have it. If you practice, the skillz will come.



2. There's still lots I don't know about sewing (but at least I know that)

A few times in this project, the designer would casually refer to something that apparently everyone who sews already knows and I would scratch my head, say "Whaaaaaa?" and promptly Google it. Thank God for my mad Google-fu.


3. Sewing is just like knitting, only quicker

OK, before the non-sewers out there rise up and lynch me with their DPNs, let me just clarify that a bit. Obviously, knitting and sewing are two COMPLETELY different crafts. What I mean is that, just like in knitting, sewing has those "Ooh! Pretty!" moments and, yes, those "Crap, I goofed" moments as well. I find that sewing is more about the product so far, while knitting is chiefly about the process for me. I'm betting that's due to the fact that I'm mostly making small-ish projects for now. Which leads me to lesson the fourth!

4. Perspective is everything

Once my patchwork sections were assembled a few weeks ago, I remember thinking "That's IT? I've been working for 2.5 hours for two dinky strips? This basket is going to be miniscule!". Last night too, when I had the body assembled, Phil and I looked at it and couldn't help but giggle at how tiny it was.

Turns out that size is all a matter of perspective. Sure, I may think it's small, but this guy? He thinks it's the mother of all baskets.


Photo idea totally pilfered from Carol Browne's fabulous advent calendars)

5. Phil has bad juju

OK, I don't really mean that. He showed me how to work the sewing machine, showed me how to thread it and wind the bobbin and so on, and was there in a snap when I ran into trouble (and really, how many women can say that about their husbands?). HOWEVER. Both times he actually picked up the basket while I was making it (presumably to deliver the accolades he knew I'd be peskering him about later), he found mistakes. They were MY mistakes of course, and I totally know that it had nothing to do with him, but I just couldn't help asking him (after he pointed out something that had gone wrong with the project) "Honestly, dear. DO YOU HAVE TO KEEP DOING THAT????"

6. Linen frays

After I had sewn the lining into the bag a third time (don't ask), Phil took a look at it and pointed out that the fabric had frayed at the bottom corner of one side. Apparently I cut the ends too close to the seam, and it frayed. Which leads me to lesson the seventh:

7. I suck at handstitching

'Nuff said.

8. The phrase "Curious Cat" is, it would seem, based on actual fact.

9. I think I like this sewing thing =)

Happy Sewing, Everyone!

Faith

As I've gotten older (though not necessarily wiser), like many people I've lost my faith. I'm not talking about Faith in God or organized religion or anything precise like that (that's a discussion I'm SO not going to get into here), I mean my faith in the basic goodness - or rather the unselfishness, the altruism, the capacity to love and care for your fellow human - of people. I try not to make judgments on anyone according to MY standards ('cause really, who the heck am I, anyway?), and of course I like to believe I've surrounded myself with the BEST kind of people... But we're all struggling through the same thing, trying to negociate our way through this crazy maze of maintaining personal relationships, raising children, working, paying bills, etc., etc. It can be hard enough to think of yourself, let alone think of others.

Which is why the response we've received from friends and family, even people we've never met, over the course of this ordeal, has simply overwhelmed me:

• My beloved Enabler, Kate, made us meals while Phil and I were pulling 30-hour shifts at the hospital;
• My fab friends Robyn and Jennifer sent care packages for Émilie and Maxime;
• Caroline sent me a lovely pattern (Sea Princess) for when I get my mojo back;
• My father drove down on the day of Émilie's surgery to spend the day with us;
• My online peep Sinéad sent along a fabulous hat for Émilie, a beautiful scarf for me, as well as a book;
• Phil's employers gave Émilie a PSP (hah! How times have changed from when I got my tonsils out...);
• Both Phil's and my parents pitched in with baby-sitting services when we were at the hospital and Maxime needed some TLC of his own;
• And today, we received an incredible painting of Émilie from one of Phil's kiting friends. A lovely man we've met ONCE, and who's never even met Émilie.

That's not counting the flowers, the good wishes, the prayers and good vibes that have made their way to us over the past few weeks. It's been truly wonderful to see how people have responded. And it's paid off! We received the pathologist's report today, and were relieved beyond measure that Émilie's tumour is (was!) benign. Apparently, if you're going to get a brain tumour, hers is the one to get.

So thanks, friends. You've made a believer out of me once more.

Back to knitting content tomorrow!!!

It's All Good

I'm happy to report that things are pretty good at Casa de Dear.

First and foremost, everyone seems to be pretty much over the hump as far as colds are concerned, and thank goodness for that. Also, I was suffering from a wicked case of the doldrums/introspecties over the past few weeks, but now the (figurative) sun is shining and I'm in a good place. I've no idea why I get like this (OK, that's a lie, I know perfectly well what prompted this particular romp but I'm keeping it to myself, thank you very much), but it's always a blessing when I finally snap out of it, reassess, and realize I've got it pretty good, all in all.

My health and fitness regime is going swimmingly. I'm loving my workouts more than ever, so much so that I'm going 4 times a week when I can. I've also resumed the hundred pushup challenge, and I'm now on week 3 of the program. OK, I'm still in the "wimp" bracket, but for a girl who couldn't even do ONE good-form pushup a mere month ago, I think it's pretty frickin' awesome. And so far this week I'm 3 for 3 on the vegetarian lunch plan. Yay!!!

It really is making a difference, too. This morning, as I pulled on my slacks, I noticed that they were feeling a bit loose. These pants aren't usually "tight" or anything, but they're definitely more form fitting. And today they're not only loose around the waist, but also around the legs and thighs. So progress! Or then again, they might just need to be washed ;)

Enough about me! On to knitting, gentle reader.

Last post I mentioned that I had cast on for another pair of Miscellaneous-Man Socks, this time using the Kaffe Fassett Regia sock yarn I bought at Rhinebeck. I cast off the first sock last night, and while it looks great and is the perfect size for a miscellaneous-man foot (as Phil pointed out "It's like they were MADE for me!"), I've nevertheless run into a small snag.

I want my socks to match. I realize some people couldn't care less if their self-striping socks are fraternal rather than identical, but I am not one of those people. Now, I cast off the first sock with maybe 2 yards of yarn left in that first ball. And that's the rub.

To start the second sock at the same spot in the stripe sequence, I've had to pull out quite a bit of yarn from the second ball. So there's NO WAY I'm going to have enough to have truly identical socks and finish the second one. It's just not going to happen.

What am I going to do? Well, I'm going to keep that yarn I pulled out and use it at the toe of the second sock. This way they'll be matchy, but only to a certain point. A point which I'm sure I can live with.

This might be a good time to add a lesson to my "Things I learned from Knitting this Garment" series:

• Lesson 5: When buying self-striping sock yarn with the intention of knitting man-socks, I must remember to buy MORE to compensate for the inevitable waste that comes with my desire to have matching socks.

These socks are (mostly) strictly commuter knitting, of course. In the evenings, I'm still plugging away at my Good Old Cabled scarf, and it's coming along nicely. However, I really should get to work on some coordinating accessories for my winter knits. I either need to knit a hot pink scarf (to match the pink Amanda Hat I made for myself, again using Malabrigo worsted) or a cream-coloured hat (to match the good old cabled scarf).

The trouble with that is, especially with the SNOW falling here today, it's getting more and more difficult to ignore the impending loomyness of Christmas, and the absolutely crazy amount of gifts I want to knit for everyone. So if you see some frazzled lady wearing baggy pants and wearing uncoordinated winter accessories knitting in the metro in the near future? It's me.

I'll wrap up this post by mentioning an artist I stumbled on this morning, while listening to David Reidy's Sticks and String podcast. I've only just started to listen to this podcast, and I know that many people aren't crazy about the music he plays, but I'm finding that we have really similar tastes in music. Anyway, one of the songs today was by Christopher Dallman. Go have a listen, it's totally worth it (you can download the MP3s for free here).

Happy Knitting Everyone!

Upwards and Onwards

Many thanks for the gushing comments regarding my new flooring. As I was saying to the lovely and talented Cynthia yesterday, I love them so much I want to cover myself in oil and slither across them naked. :)

Last weekend being what it was, I'm pleased to announce that Phil and I will be taking a well-deserved trip à deux this weekend, when we head to the Niagara International Kite Festival in Niagara Falls. Yessir, ladies and gents, Phil has become such a kite-making bigwig that, not only was he invited to participate in this year's festival, but he's actually being comped for it. How cool is that?

Of course, while I'm looking forward to seeing the kites (and the Falls, I haven't been since I was a wee knitter), I'm absolutely ecstatic about all the primo knitting time I'll have this weekend ('cause, really, once the kites are in the air, there's not much else to do). Plus the 7 hour drive to and from? Oh yeah, baby, I'm gonna get my knit on!

Naturally, I've given considerable thought to what knitting I'm going to bring (natch'). I think this will be the perfect opportunity to crank out a few small Christmas gift projects. If strictly sticking to projects using stash yarn only, here's what I've come up with so far:

• A pair of Fetching fingerless gloves in yummy Malabrigo for the daycare lady (to match the hat I made her last year)
• A pair of Fuzzy feet for someone who shall remain nameless because he/she might be a reader. I'm thinking Cascade 220 for this project.
• A pair of Newfoundland Mitts using some leftover Cascade 220 and leftover Noro Kureyon.

This would also be a great opportunity to finish some languishing UFO's, like the Argosy scarf I cast on for when Christ was a cowboy, or the Good Ole Cabled Scarf I started in, um, November 2007.

And of course, let's not forget my 2 "current" WIPs, the Celtic Tote and my Miscellaneous-Man Socks.

Right, so that's, what? 7 projects for a 3 day weekend? BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!! Obsess much?

I was thinking about handknits as gifts recently, and wondering how I felt about them. As a knitter, I'll admit that I like to give handknit gifts because a) they're a way to save money (the money's already spent, y'all) and b) I often have to rack my brain to come up with a gift (because we HAVE to buy "something", right?), but you can never have too many socks or hats or scarves. Right?

The question still remains, though. Are handknits considered "real" gifts by their recipients? Do they appreciate them for the time and skill they represent, or do they feel like they got the shaft? Should gifted handknits always be accompanied by store-bought gifts? In which case, why bother with handknits at all??? Should we limit ourselves to one handknit gift per person per year?

Quite the connundrum, dear readers... Maybe I should tackle the Egg vs. Chicken debate instead.

I'll wrap up today's post with a picture of the heel of my Miscellaneous-Man socks.

I finally get it! I've been reading forever how you're supposed to do a short-row heel when using self-striping yarn so as not to disrupt the stripe sequence, but I just didn't get it. I tend to prefer a heel flap and gusset myself, but this time I thought "What the heck". And look! See the yellow stripe? See how it folds in on itself? (Or rather, how it WOULD fold in on itself if I had started it a smidge earlier in the sequence?). THAT's what everybody was talking about! I finally get it! Yay!

Happy Knitting Everyone!

Smokin' in the Sizzle

I finished Sizzle on Tuesday night, and I'm very happy with it. I haven't had much luck with garments, but I really feel like I've been turning a new leaf over the past year.

In honour of this latest FO, I thought I'd introduce a new series: Things I Learned from Knitting this Garment.

1. Reading the pattern ahead of time is a good idea: I really got it together this time, even highlighting all the appropriate instructions for my measurements. Good thing too, because if I hadn't, the simultaneous dart shaping, armhole shaping and neck decreases would have driven me to alcohol.
   
2. Decrease does NOT mean cast off. Whenever I used to work armhole or neck shaping, if the pattern said something like "Cast off 5 stitches at beginning of next 2 rows, then 3 stitches at the beginning of next 2 rows, then decrease 1 stitch at each edge on every RS row 5 times", I would promptly cast off 5, then 3, then 1 at the beginning and end of every RS row 5 times. Then while knitting this project it hit me : If she meant cast off, wouldn't she have said cast off? A little light went on in my head, people, and I happily k2tog and ssk'd my way through the armhole and neck shaping (one stitch in from the edge, no less!). Made the finishing MUCH easier (but you all knew that already).
3. I'm tall (5 feet 10 inches, to be precise). You'd think that at 32 years of age, I'd already know this, but hey, I'm a work in progress. Being tall, I generally like my garments to be longer than average. So in the future, not only will I read through the pattern in its entirety, I will also check the detailed dimensions of the finished garment (beyond the bust measurements, which is all I look at now) in order to make the appropriate shaping decisions. Luckily, it worked out this time. I might have made it an inch longer, but I can live with that.

I'm itching to work on the Celtic Tote, but I think I'm going to try and get another project off the needles before I work on that one. I just know if I get into it, it'll lead me to utter ruin (OK, not really, but I'll work on it to the detriment of other, more pressing, projects).

Thanks for all the positive feedback on my new blog banner! I'm very excited about it. It was designed by a wonderful, talented graphic artist I found on Etsy, Malien00. Check out her shop! She's got some really adorable note cards and other stationary, and is available for custom orders. Thanks so much Mel! It's been a real pleasure working with you.

OK, I'll end this post with this week's Secret Pal 12 question of the week (you may have noticed I slacked off on those for a while, I really had no idea what to answer the last few weeks.

A project or technique that you've tackled and completed beautifully. What is your proudest knitting moment??

I guess the project I'm most proud of right now is Emilie's Good Stripe Dress. It wasn't that complicated technique-wise, but it just turned out sooooo great, and she loves it to bits (and as you know, a 4-year old being pleased with a hand knit item is a feat so rare as to be considered urban legend in some knitting circles).

And on the flip side? What is the one thing that you can't get right? What is that one project that you've never been able to complete? Or that you did complete but then hid away instantly because it was too embarrassing?

The project that springs to mind is my first sweater. I was a Fair Isle from a Létt-Lopi pattern. I'd never worked with more than one colour, I'd never knit in the round, I'd never heard of swatching... But I didn't let any of that phase me, and I just kept knitting. I suppose that, when you factor all that in, it's actually pretty good. But I'd never wear it. No way.

Especially not when I can wear this...

After all, like Wendy Bernard says, sometimes it's all about the sizzle...

Happy Knitting Everyone!