knit and tonic

The Five-Year Socks

These socks took five years to knit. Well, not really five total years, but five years in the making from the original thought/offer to fruition. The first time I met my stylist, the one who has worked on all the books with me, Mark, somehow the topic of socks came up and then next thing I knew I was falling all over myself offering to knit him some socks.

What was I thinking? This guy is over six feet tall and must have size 12 feet. After I noticed these things, I turned coy and asked him all about his family. Does he have a (tiny) mom? a (tiny) sister?

Yes! A tiny mom, he reported. I decided that I will make her socks and he'll totally forget about the ones he wanted in the first place! Yes, tiny socks! Quick socks! Yes. Quick socks!

And so I did.

These were a breeze. I sent them off, all wrapped up in tissue paper thinking that I was all done. That I didn't need to knit any more socks for anyone unless I absolutely had to. I mean, I had a book to write and stuff to knit for the book, right? I sent them off and she loved them. I even got a nice card, thanking me. Mark commented a couple times that she would tuck them into the drawer, nicely folded, and didn't want to wear them because they were too nice to wear. Oy. And then another book came and he asked me again if I would knit a pair for him.

Glutton for punishment, I said "Hell yes." (I didn't even shrug. I just spurted: "Yes!")

Aw crap. So, I took another look at his feet: Really big. I then decided these would take some time and they should accompany me everywhere. Through the years, they have been with me to Phoenix, Denver and Mount Washington. They have been with me to Calabassas, even in the same parking lot our guy Justin Beiber valiantly fought off a paparazzo. They have been with me on a south bound train. They have been with me on my patio (hence the dog hair). They have been with me during Girlfriend's violin lessons. They have been with me for the longest time. In fact, while we were driving on the 101 to Sherman Oaks for lunch with my sister and her family and while I was finally seaming the toe today, I got sorta sad.

What will I knit next?

There's nothing on the needles!

Someday, I'll wear pajamas in the daytime.

(Oh wait: I already do.)

I love my friend, Mark. These were totally worth it. And if he never wears them I will show up on his doorstep at 4:00 a.m. for no reason at all and demand mashed potatoes with extra butter.

(Shibui Sock Yarn. Color unknown. It looks brown to me and it is fabulous)

Two Weekends Ago

. . . we were sitting there working on our balls and my wonderful Temari* teacher looked up over her own ball and remarked, "Wendy, you're not afraid of color, are you?"

One part of me felt a little weird because honestly everyone else's balls looked way more traditional and gorgeous, but for some reason, I needed mine to blow my eyeball(s) out.

If you are curious, those pins right above the dragonfly are marker pins. You use them to create your butterflies and other creatures. Thing is, now that I'm looking at the placement of those pins . . . See how they outline a butterfly that's flying in the same direction as the dragonfly below it? Now that I see it, I'm realizing that I need to change the orientation. I don't want all the butterflies and dragonflies to fly in the same direction. I want them to crash into each other.

Speaking of color, I got two skeins of yarn from Cephalopod Yarns. You have probably heard of them by now. When I wrote Custom Knits Accessories, Sanguine Gryphon supplied yarn for the Skylark Stole, but since then, part of the company evolved into Cephalopod. I love their yarn so much that I grabbed these two. The orange-y one is Bugga! DK in in Red Eft and the bronze one (it is so gorgeously shiny) is Nautilace in Stargazer. Bugga! is a great example of a dk "smooshy" yarn. When I first opened the package and spotted it I thought I absolutely needed to make maybe two hats--there is enough yardage there, I think--and while I was laying on my reformer a couple of days later (the Pilates type) at the gym I looked up at my instructor and asked him if he'd ever consider wearing a quietly moaning orange hat. He said he would. I figured he'd say yes because by now you all know that for some reason, gym rats in SoCal tend to wear hats--the knitted kind--to the gym and for the life of me I will never understand why.

Thing is, I want to make a folded brim and knit in a saying so on the inside portion he can read something. I can't think of anything yet, so until I do or have a good suggestion, I'll hold off.

But to get the juices started:

"Live long and prosper."

"Santa says 'shop early for Christmas to avoid crowds.'"

"Do or do not; there is no try."

"Knit your own hats, bitches."

"Lay back and think of England."

Meanwhile, I will keep you posted on this wonderful new yarn. I'm working on a huge project that requires a lot of knitting on the sly, so it's hard for me to blog/show-and-tell these days. I hope you understand.

BUT and on another note: If you're around tomorrow (Tues), join me for a webcast at Planetpurl.com. I'll be there (and on video--with makeup and hairdo for sure) at 12 noon EST (or freaking 9:00 a.m. PST) for awhile to talk about Custom Knits Accessories. You can log in and ask questions, too. Plus, I'll answer them all. Unless, of course, you want to know anything at all about quantum physics or how to fix a window.

*Temari is an ages-old art/craft/whathaveyou of Japanese embroidered thread balls. Looks hard, but it isn't. It's actually kind of a hoot.

Bi-Craftual and Proud of It

Don't tell anyone, but apparently, Kristin Omdahl is bi-craftual.

I only know this because I was asked to review her latest work, Compliments Collection, which features Bijou Basin Ranch Yarns and *gasp* both knit and crochet items. That totally gave her, uhm, orientation, away.

Just you watch: The next thing that will happen is that she'll pick up a crochet hook in a knitter's-only lounge. And you know how that will go...

Seriously, I don't see too many bi-craftual booklets out there. I'm primarily a knitter but I do crochet, too. Designing knit patterns, I get, but crochet patterns? I can't imagine doing both, and from the looks of it, Kristen is comfortable going *both* ways.

What's more, every pattern is both written and charted. Knitting charts? I can plot them. But crochet charts? I'd need some coaching in reading them and there is no way I'd be able to chart them without a lot of help.

Kristen designed this collection for Bijou Basin Ranch Yarns. You may not see this yarn in a lot of retail outlets at the moment, but you can buy their yarns online here.

I have knit with their Bijou Spun Lhasa Wilderness (yak/bamboo), which is amazing and I have four skeins of their Bijou Bliss which is a yak/cormo blend. Those four skeins are earmarked for a hat KAL, which is forthcoming.

Any rate, I have one digital copy of this collection for a Give-Away. Leave me a comment saying whether you're a knitter, a crocheter or, uhm, bi-craftual, and I'll do a random drawing on Monday, May 14th.

You can find a link to Kristen's blog tour schedule here. There will be lots of giveaways, I think!

A winner has been selected! Thanks for playing along. Congrats to Kristie!

 

Invaders Must Die

Girlfriend used to go to what we called "messy school." This was a school where the kids basically let loose. You know, they were allowed and encouraged to run up and down hills in dirty super hero costumes willy nilly (and there were rusty nails; trust me) and once, when a little boy attacked Girlfriend upside the head with some sort of Tonka Toy and I reported it to the, lack for a better word, "headmaster," and asked that the four teachers in the group watch him closer (that is all I asked), she trilled:

"We here are all a group, a family, and since Girlfriend is more balanced than this boy, it is a good thing. She will, over time, help balance him so he understands it is not okay to bonk children on the head, and further help him to discuss his frustrations rather than using tools to physically express himself."

(She didn't say "bonk," though.)

On another note: I've been knitting a pair of socks for a friend for nearly a year. I'm ashamed of myself. I used to knit a pair in a few days. But these days and normally, if someone isn't sock-worthy, I don't sweat it. But he's totally sock-worthy.

And if he only knew what he was missing out on (thus the source of my distress). I just bought a packet of six pair of socks for myself. Made by Hanes. The ones that I should be able to wear while running or whatever. Sized 4 - 11 Ladies. Yeah, right. Those suckers barely make it past my heel and I wear a Ladies 8.

Shoot. Do you think that the makers of those socks should ask a couple sock knitters a few questions?

Or maybe not. Otherwise those famous socks that all those silly non-knitters tell you that can be purchased at Target for only a few bucks would skyrocket to $38.00 for yarn plus, oh, oodles more for love and labor.

 Mark, my love: Your socks are almost here.

Meanwhile. My book, Custom Knits Accessories is out. Will tell you all about it tomorrow.

BTW: Sorry if you've been having problems with the comments. Some crazy spam robot has invaded and the only way I've been able to lighten my load of hyper-deletion is to change some of the comment settings.

Driving Girlfriend Home

Yesterday in the car coming home, Girlfriend went on and on about how she wanted to give one of her classmates a mechanical pencil.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because I feel sorry for him. He has a foot fungus. It's on the bottom of his feet and he was up all night itching them. The teacher, she said that he looked really tired and he squirmed all day. I know this because I sit next to him. I feel so bad because his feet itch and he can't concentrate. He got permission to wear flip flops to school and doesn't have to go to P.E."

And the day before that it was: "I want to have a car like Uncle Rico."

"Uncle Rico had a van, Girlfriend."

"Yeah, I want a van like Uncle Rico. And I want a mobile home, too. I wonder how they keep the couches in the back of those things from moving when they go up hills. How do they do that? Keep the couches in the backs of vans and mobile homes from moving around? I want one of those real bad. I want one that has a sink in it. How do they get the water in the vans? I would have lunch in the back of my van. And if I had a mobile home, I'd invite a friend or two and then we could wash the dishes then go outside and play ball. You know, like Uncle Rico. Mom, how do they keep the couches from shifting when they go uphill?"

And on and on and on and on.

I guess its a good thing that she cares for others and has one dream in life: To own a brown and orange van with a couch and a sink in it. I guess things could be worse.

I think I know where she got this from. Me. Not the caring about foot fungus or having simple desires like owning a van like Uncle Rico. It's the wondering thing. I wonder about the craziest things. I wonder so much that I lay in bed at night and wonder. It could be that my mom, like me, didn't answer the many questions I had while riding home with her. She, like me, was probably a little tired of all the chatter and honestly wondered to herself, like I'm wondering to myself as Girlfriend chatters my ear drums off, how she's going to make it home without jumping out the car window first.

So the semi-circle scarf/shawl thing: Sure, I know how it gets semi-circular. That much I get. But what I don't get is how someone thought this thing up. Who was it? Elizabeth Zimmermann? Maybe it was her. Or not. I happen to have a copy of The Principles of Knitting but honestly it's busy right now keeping one the old fences out back from falling over so I can't really look it up at the moment.

I'm lying. It's not holding up the fence. I was just joking. I can't go look it up because I'm making chicken under a brick.

Har. Kidding again.

The green version of the little scarf is Manos del Uruguay Lace and the one in my hands is the Quince & Co. Sparrow. I'm hoping that the little peak at the top blocks out.

Good news is, linen is so tough that should it need a little goading, I could probably shore up my falling-down fence with it for a few days to stretch it out. I'll let you know how it goes.

 BTW: Love the book, Principles of Knitting. I just can't get over how big it is.

Warning: Iffy Photos Ahead

Every time April comes around I find myself in a funk. Funny thing is, after 10 years I would anticipate it. But I don't.

It's like I'm walking down the street and I check my purse for my keys, I make sure I haven't lost my sunglasses or maybe think I forgot to put socks on and then I realize, "oh, yeah, that's what it is: My boyfriend dumped me right before senior prom."

But for me, it's a little more complicated and involves the death of my daughter and every, single, time I am slammed by some sort of terrible, sweeping grief and it's only when the grief is at its pinnacle that I realize why I'm so not myself. April was the month she died.

So, forgive my absence. I'm okay. Everybody has their "stuff." Just like everybody and I have my "stuff," too.

That said, I have been knitting. I have been doing a lot of knitting. I can't share everything, but this I can. I don't have fantastic photos because I just snapped them on my phone, but there you go: Just like life, not everything or situation is perfect so you do what you can to get by. In my case, I knit a semi-circular shawl while Loretta refused to leave my side even though the Manos Laceweight (alpaca/silk/cashmere) kept getting stuck in her "luscious" mane.

This one started with a small patch at the top and I just winged the "pi-shawl" idea while incorporating a stitch pattern that I found in the wonderful Crazy Lace by Myra Wood (I think it might be out of print, but if you can get one, do . . . for 140 bucks; oh, the way the market works). Funny: I didn't even swatch and instead I just used a chart she has in there without testing it first. As I knit, I kept trying to "see" what the lace was "supposed" to look like. I couldn't figure it out. But I kept knitting because I wasn't in a place to rip. I thought I'd just go with it, sight unseen, and knew the knitting itself would pull me through and even if I blocked it and still couldn't "see" what it was supposed to "be," that would be fine with me. 

Just like life: Knitting isn't perfect. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow.

I mean, do we even have a choice?

BTW: This shawl is a pattern that I am writing up for a class I'm teaching in July at Anacapa Fine Yarns. It is based on the Sangria Shawl in Custom Knits Accessories (coming out in a matter of DAYS). The class teaches the Sangria Shawl, but for those students who don't have the means to purchase the book, I thought it would be a good thing to come up with something close, but not the same, to teach so everybody can join in.

Trying on an In-Progress Sweater is Like Standing on the Scale.

Knitting can be such a crap shoot. Sure, you can knit a little doll or maybe a dog blanket on the fly and it turns out great but when it comes to knitting--for yourself, especially--you might find, after you do try it on, it is time for a cocktail.

Or, in my case, fewer cocktails. I am usually a size six, sometimes a four and sometimes a two (due to vanity sizing at the likes of The Gap, et al, which is another subject altogether and in my mind they need to banish it, big time, sheesh).

So, here we go: I'm knitting along with a class I'm teaching. It's all about knitting round-yoke top-down sweaters. We're doing the math and trying on as we go. Thing is, I let my personal duct tape dummy go a few months ago during a closet clean-out and decided to use my trusty dress form (dress size six) that I use when I design for books/magazines. This usually works well for me because I know that whatever sample I'm making needs to be a little snug on the dress form. But for me? Uh. . . a little looser . . . in the middle section.

But as of today, I have decided that I've let myself go. I guess I figured that as long as my upper arms, bust and thighs haven't changed that I'm all good.

I'm not.

It's my middle.

I'm owning up:

Just like I told my sister when she first became pregnant and had morning sickness, "No matter how sick you feel, the good news is, being pregnant means that for the first time in your life you'll relax your abs."

My problem is, it has been nine years since Girlfriend was born and I'm still relaxing them.

(I don't like how I finished the bottom, so I'm ripping and re-knitting. Plus, I'll add a couple inches. My belly hiked that sucker up way higher than I thought it would. This is why trying an in-progress sweater onto your own body and not your perfectly shaped dress form is worth the extra five minutes of your time.)

BTW: This is Cascade Eco. I love that it has taken one skein so far. I'll use the second one (just a tiny bit of it) to finish the sleeves. I think they'll be short.

Making Stuff

My heart broke for Girlfriend last night when she discovered that what she had in mind to sew (a stuffed bear with button eyes) didn't turn out the way she wanted it to. When she showed it to me I asked her what it was. She said a bear. I said, "you mean the type of bear you see on the flag of California?" and she said not that kind, but a teddy bear.

Ooops.

And we sort of stared into each others eyes for a moment and I saw hers start to tear up. "Does it make you sad that it doesn't look like you thought it could, or how it would?"

So, I sat down with her, took some more felt, and gave her a little help on another one. This time, it turned out a little better and she took it to school this morning to show her friends.

Problem is, this sort of thing happens to all of us, at all ages. It's kind of like discovering that those Sea Monkeys really don't wear those crowns and they're just icky brine shrimp, instead. As an adult it happens to me constantly, like when I buy some lovely fabric and a great pattern and it comes out looking like a potato sack. Or, spending all day dreaming of how fantastic a particular knit object will look when it finishes blocking . . . and it turns out to be a total flop.

I guess that's the way things go sometimes.

But there are other times when making things is so fun and comes so effortlessly that you never ever forget the joy. I guess that's why we continue to "create."

Easter Eggs without a Paas Box (the way I like them, and they turn out waaaay better)

What you'll need: coffee mugs or small bowls, assorted food coloring, white vinegar, vegetable oil (for marbling the eggs) and tap water

All you do is this: Put about 20 drops of food coloring in each vessel. You can combine colors to customize if you want to. Then, put in a tablespoon or a little more of vinegar into each. Add room temperature tap water and blend. Then, if you want to have marbled eggs, float a little vegetable oil on top.

And if you want to pre-dye your eggs before adding a marbled layer, dye them without the oil first, then add the oil later, then re-dip. You can experiment by dipping and then rubbing the color off with a rag. That one on the table in the front was done that way.

BTW: I have nothing against those Paas boxes, but somehow, the fancy pictures on the boxes never match the final product.

Stinking at the Gym

I am always astonished at what people will do even though they know that others might be watching. You know me, I'm always watching the folks at the gym (there's not a whole heck of a lot of other choices of things to do, you know) and this guy next to me on the treadmill casually pulled up his shirt and removed a huge neoprene stomach wrap. A wet neoprene wrap! I mean, not only had this guy been running for awhile so he was sweaty, worse, he just draped it over the top of the machine and continued to run!

If I don't post for two or three weeks in a row, call an ambulance because that means I must have died from a weird gym-induced horror.

But it got me thinking: People are forever either underestmating or overestimating their size.

Give me a second here to explain. That guy was a skinny dude. He didn't need that neoprene thingy and we all know they don't work. Those belts, they pretty much nearly kill you from sweating to death or get so stinky over time that you repel even the kindest of people not including two people I know who lost their sense of smell from getting hit on the head (True Wendy fact. I know two people, count 'em, two people, whose sense of smell went missing from a head injury).

So when I was teaching a class this weekend, one where I'm showing people how to do a top-down round-yoke pullover without a pattern, just about every single knitter overestimated either their neck opening and/or armhole depth.

Now, I admit I've been designing and grading patterns from the smallest to the mid-plus-size range for awhile, but it amazed me how hard it is to look at yourself without first putting the image through your own personal prism.

Personally, I always estimate myself as smaller than I really am--not sure why; it could be total and complete denial--so while the knitters in class tended to err on the side of bigger I'm sure that everyone has their own vision of themselves that affects the outcome of their projects.

Anyway, I don't know what I'm getting at except to say that if you're measuring yourself for a sweater, to have a helper there to double-check your estimates. You might be surprised what you discover.

And if you don't take anything at all away from this post here's another a tip: Forget about those neoprene thingys. They stink.

BTW: This is my class project in progress. I truly believe that it's a good thing to knit a project along with the class. It helps the students to visualize where they're going, not to mention, I learn a lot while doing it with them, too.

It Takes a Village

I just sat here for about 30 minutes wondering if it is okay if I showed you what I did this weekend, because it's not knitting. I have been given a dressing down a few times the past several years about posting "off topic," but you know what? I don't care. You and I know I do plenty of knitting and heck, I'm not only a knitter and neither are you.

You are a reader, and you probably do more than just sit and knit, as well. And I imagine if you have stuck with me long enough you know that when I'm under a knitting/publishing deadline that avoidance is my best friend. So, you must likely understand.

And before I tell you what we did, let me say this first: My long-term goal before I die is to learn how to tap dance. Even though I have done nothing to further the goal, I have definitely mastered jazz hands.

But I do have other short-term goals. These usually come up suddenly. Maybe I see something online, you know how it is. So, since I still don't have a venue to tap dance in (or someone to teach me) this weekend we made a succulent wreath, something that I have been wanting to make for at least a week. I also made a terrarium. (More on that another day but check it out.)

First, I already have a huge jade plant that I took from my mom's backyard after her funeral. That thing has been snipped and passed around to my friends and family and now resides allover the joint. We call her "Marilyn," after my mom. If you aren't so lucky to have such a bounty or want some extra variety, you can totally sneak around the neighborhood in the middle of the night and snip off tips of jade plants and whatever else you can get before getting caught. Then, you can buy a few cheapies from the local nursery to supplement. Also, ask your girlfriend from Long Beach to bring some of her clippings, too, and ask her to show Girlfriend how the leaves separate from the stalk of the succulent like beads.

Then, buy a huge bag of that moss stuff. I always just put it on top of my houseplants, but what you need to do is get some water in a pail and toss handfuls of it in and let it soak, and then squeeze out a little water and put it in the form.

After that's all done, pack it in a tube real well and then decorate your wreath.

The jade plant clippings in this wreath are from my "Marilyn" plants. 

There are also a lot of others too. Some of it is "Sherry, the One Who Had an Ambulance in Front the Other Day." Some of it is "That Guy who Ripped the Tree out with His Bare Hands" and there's a smattering of "Nasty Neighbor." (Just kidding . . . I think.)

Post Traumatic Book Disorder

It took me about 12 hours to get used to this.

Yesterday, the UPS man drove up the street. I had the TV blaring in at least two rooms (Beverly Hills 90210 on the DVR...ABC killed all my favorite soaps) but I knew he was on his way up the hill because all three dogs started barking and ran to the door anticipating dog treats from Kyle, our UPS guy.

Anyway, this is what he left me.

I had no idea.

The book is due out in May but I got an advance copy already. I was in such shock that I set it aside and made dinner. Then I took a bath. After a little while, I broke down in tears.

I can't say what exactly my feelings are. Maybe disbelief, relief, joy, dread? I have no idea. I've been on a wild ride. Three books since 2008. And the past few weeks I have been sitting up here working on a fourth. It's due in October and I don't even know how I will do it. Wait: I take that back: I will do it. I can crank out stuff like it's no body's  business.

I can crank out stuff like it is no body's business because, see? See that title up there in the picture? It is backwards. A mirror image. Sure, I could go in Photoshop and flip it but I won't. The backwards title just doesn't matter that much to me. There are bigger fish to fry, in my mind. Kind of like knitting: You want to stress out about an urgent need for a special cast on? Ask the lady who wrote that 700-plus page knitting techniques book, instead. She'll have plenty of answers for you. But, if you ask me, I'm likely going to say: "Heh, whatever works for you."

And if you ask me how long I cook my pot roast, I will say: "Until it is done."

I had my hair done today (see how nice and straight it is?), the assistant told me, after I told her about a panic attack I had on a ride at Disneyland that landed me in the Disneyland Hospital for five hours, that she counts things: "Speaking of that ride? Did you know that there are exactly six right turns and only one left one on that particular ride? And that there are 22 stairs leading to my alma mater's library but only 21 if you go out the back exit!?"

Then I said: "The only things I count in my house are the stairs, but only when I go downstairs . . . in the dark. Otherwise, I never count."

But now, I'm stiting here thinking. There are a few other things I do count:

• How many minutes there are until I absolutely have to turn the lights out and go to sleep
• How many years it has been since I last heard my mother's voice
• The number of yards I used to knit a project that will be published
• The number of seconds between lightning and thunder so I know how far away or close a storm is
• How old Chuck is

Other than that, I don't count too much.

BTW: We are launching a KAL for Custom Knits 2 in the Ravelry Knit and Tonic Knitters Group. It will go through May and as a kick-off, I am giving away a signed copy of the book (If you are interested, leave a quick comment here by Monday morning). Along the way, there will be yarn prizes, and in May, when the KAL ends, for those who have posted a finished item from the book, I will do a giveaway of three copies of this latest book, Custom Knits Accessories.

If you're not a Ravelry user, never worry. I'll have giveaways on the blog, too.

(And if you're wondering, this newest book, by far, is my favorite. It just is.)