What I failed to mention before, was that two equals three for large values of two. Or something.
So. The zombie camera. Remember that? I said one of two things would happen: they’d fix it for free and send it back to me, or they’d tell me I’d have to pay to fix it and I’d say DO NOT WANT and I’d have no camera. But lurking in the back of my mind was the third thing that could happen, which I had discovered when poking around the internets trying to diagnose the camera’s ailment.
Sometimes, the repair centre receives a camera with the fixable-for-free image sensor defect, but the camera is so old that they can’t be arsed to dig up the parts to repair it, and instead send a “new” camera to replace it. And by “new”, I mean “old and refurbished but still a better model than what was sent in”. It sounded like people would, for instance, send in their six year old camera and receive a four year old refurb.
I was torn on whether I wanted this to happen to me. The zombie camera was a PowerShot S230. It was oooold, but also a very solid model, that had served me well all these years. I’d have no say over what they might send me as a replacement. For all I knew, it could be the little-known PowerShot AssGoblin, eleven days newer than the S230, which would only take pictures if you hopped on one foot while reciting the alphabet backwards when you pushed the button, and furthermore all the pictures would contain a superimposed image of flowered granny panties, and FURTHERMORE, it would arrive encrusted with suspicious blue goo because its previous owner was a melting Smurf.
I did not want the AssGoblin.
So when a box arrived in the mail from Canon, I was a little apprehensive. And pleased, of course – because the mere arrival of the box ruled out the “you have to pay for repairs” option. Whatever they’d done to my little zombie camera, they’d done for free. So there was that.
The box was rather small.
Well then, I thought as I pried it open, I guess they sent back my zombie, because there’s not enough room in here for a boxed up new camera. Little did I know that camera-box technology had grown by leaps and bounds since the last time I purchased a camera, and this was what the box contained:
First realization: That’s not my zombie.
I examined the included invoice (amount due: $0.00) with all the info about the repair.
Second realization: This is not a refurb. It appears to be new, for reals.
I toddled over to the intarwebs to see what exactly this SD1100 thingergummy was.
Third realization: This is not an old model. It came out last year. In fact, its replacement only JUST came out like a month ago, and up until then it was the CURRENT model in its line.
WOAH.
So. I totally owe someone at Canon some extensive sexual favours, because the more I researched, the more I realized that had the zombie camera not been eligible for a free-repair, and had I scraped together enough money to replace it, this is almost definitely the exact camera I would have replaced it with. And I’d just received it for free. Holy shit! Please excuse me while I do a small, tasteful dance of glee.
…
All right, all done.
I played around with the new shiny for a bit, and it’s quite an improvement over the old one. I know the photography buffs with their digital SLRs are scoffing at me squeeing over my little point ‘n’ shoot, but hell, I’m no expert, all I need is something to snap pics of shiny things. The old camera could not change this shot
to this shot
just by turning on macro mode.
Of course, the colours were still all wrong, and I thought perhaps I should finally learn how to set my white balance. The new camera has the same presets as the old one: sunlight, cloud, tungsten, fluorescent, etc. But there’s no setting for “some sunlight but also a desk lamp to zap some shadows with a whiter light than a regular light bulb”, and similar sorts of madness. There is a manual white balance mode that I had calmly and deliberately ignored on the old camera because it was scary. But it was time to suck it up and learn. So I asked a friend who knows about such things.
Me: I don’t understand how to use manual white balance.
Friend: Well, if you turn on manual mode and look for the menu-
Me: No, I know how to FIND it, I just don’t know how to USE it!
Friend: Oh! Just point it at something white.
Me: …
Friend: …?
Me: THAT’S ALL? ARE YOU KIDDING ME?
*headdesk*
Anyway, since I am once again in possession of a working camera, my blog shall survive! Now it’s only dependent on me updating it, and we all know how totally reliable I am with that. Yup.
But, you might ask, what became of the zombie camera? Is it terrorizing the hallways of the Canon repair centre, devouring the brains of the living cameras, adding to its zombie army of photographic devices that give you a screen full of ASSING FLASHING LINES instead of a pretty picture? Do cameras even have brains? If they do, should we worry? I can’t tell you whether sentient cameras are an imminent threat, but I can tell you the alleged fate of my own little zombie…
The zombie camera is dead. Long live the zombie camera.
I’ve been itching to design, lately. That sounds like something that involves a rash. “Yep, I’ve got The Itch. I tried the ointment, but it didn’t help. Don’t come near me, it might be contagious.”
Alas, the small size of my stash and the smaller size of my yarn budget means that I have no materials! Pffft. I need to become a Big Established Designer so that yarn companies will send me free yarn to design things. I’m sure they’ll be lining up to have their yarn associated with something as professional-sounding as Half-Assed Patterns. Heh.
But wait! There is hope! Hope in the form of a Happy Fun Box of Yarn* from Elann! Probably my last Box of Yarn for awhile, and it’s only a little one, but it should keep me occupied for a little while. What’s in the box? What’s in the boooox?
* Do not taunt Happy Fun Box of Yarn.
Well, first, there’s some Rowan Chunky Print.
This one isn’t itch ointment; I already had a project in mind for it. I saw this scarf on Ravelry and I waaants one. I tried to turn my skein of Lady Godiva into one, but it was having none of that because Lil’ Missie Godiva is a picky bitch. (Oh, I will talk about this later. Not today.) And I thought, well, what I really need for this pattern is something bulky, something that isn’t variegated, and something with a bit of handspun-esque texture. And then, poof, Elann has Chunky Print for cheap, in the exact colour that I had been eyeing-but-not-buying on Webs’ site (I am apprehensive of ordering from there after the previous shipping debacle). It’s a sign!
(Why does every “it’s a sign!” moment result in me either spending too much money or doing something incredibly stupid?)
I was playing “guess the colour from intarwebs pics” game with this, because I wanted it to match this adorably hideous faux-vintage coat I have. I say faux-vintage because it is so very, very faux. Because I bought it at Urban Behaviour shutup shutup.
Works for me!
Okay, next up we have some Elann Incense.
I’ve been dying to try this yarn since I saw it in Elann’s newsletter before it was even available. Wool, silk, and bamboo for 4 bucks a ball? Yes, please!
The good news is that it’s very pretty, and soft, with a nice sheen from the silk. I got it in “Brick”, and played “guess the colour” with this one too – a little-known, harder version of the game called “guess the colour from Elann’s crappy, crappy swatches that are always wrong, but you have no other choice because the yarn’s so new that nobody has photographed it yet, and if it’s orange or pink you’re going to stab it in the neck, and yes I know that yarn doesn’t have a neck but IT’S THE PRINCIPLE OF THE THING DAMMIT”. It’s not a fun game. I don’t recommend it.
But I WON, because it’s not orange, and it’s not pink either, but a genuine true neutral red. Score.
The bad news is that out of 4 skeins, there are visible knots in 2 of them. No, I haven’t rewound them. This is just out of the bits of the balls that I can see. Who knows how many more knots are lurking in their depths. 50% wool yarn will spit-splice, right? Right?! Don’t tell me it won’t! Lalalalanotlistening…
It’ll be a scarf. The scarf of the Horrible Yellow Acrylic experiments. The scarf that I tried to turn that Lady Godiva into, but it was also not having that. Oh yes, I will definitely be talking about that skein of Lady Godiva later, loudly, angrily, possibly involving as many impolite words as I can think of.
Anyway. The scarf that is my own design! Take that, itch. I’ve tweaked it after the Lady Godiva fiasco and have most of the pattern written up. Now I just have to knit the thing.
And now, the final inhabitant of the Happy Fun Box of Yarn is…
Two balls of Elann Tweedy Silk that I bought for absolutely no reason other than wanting to see what the yarn was like. (Answer: it’s boring. Typical rough silk, kind of pretty, whatever. We’ll see how it knits up, though.) I ordered two balls because I figured I can’t make squat with just one. Not that I can make much of anything with two. Maybe I just wanted an excuse to type “two balls” a lot.
But while I waited for the Happy Fun Box to make its way through holiday mail hell to me, I had an idea.
Or rather, a long time ago I had an idea, but could only think up a crappy implementation of it. This time I thought of a much better implementation. A smallish version of which could easily be done with 208 yards of boring silk tweed.
It is the NERDIEST IDEA EVER and you will all think it is stupid but that’s all right. It makes me happy! And I need to go knit it and write it up because it won’t make any sense until it’s in FO-and-pattern form, I don’t think. So for now I will call it the Secret Nerd Scarf. Which is actually not that different from what I’ll probably call it in the end.
Ahhh, the Happy Fun Box is filled with Happy Fun. And it has the potential to treat The Itch. Worship the Happy Fun Box! Love the Happy Fun Box!
Brain: Haaaay. Why haven’t you made that Back to School vest from Fitted Knits yet?
Me: Because I am busy angsting over what yarn to use. Angst! Angst!
Brain: So just pick a yarn and buy it already.
Me: But but but it’s all so expensive and I’m poor.
Brain: You know, you could stop looking at yarns that a) contain high percentages of silk or b) contain the words “hand dyed” in their description?
Me: Never!
Brain: Why don’t you just use the recommended Cascade 220? You like Cascade 220. It’s pretty. It’s cheap. It’s practical. And just because your current stash of it may be cursed doesn’t mean a new stash will be.
Me: …
Brain: Ha! I win! Buy the Cascade 220 and shut the hell up!
Me: But… but… I can’t find it locally and I’ll never find the perfect shade of heathered deep brown with a reddish-plum undertone by looking at pics on the intarwebs…
Oh. How about that.
Ordering yarn online is tricky. No matter how many pictures you can dig up of the yarn in question, you’re never quite sure what it’s going to look like for reals. So it’s very satisfying to actually get it right.
And it’s very very satisfying to get it right twice.
Phear me! I will hunt down all the dark brownish-reddish-burgundyish yarn in the universe and I will buy it all! Er, assuming it’s cheap or on crazy clearance at Elann or something. Ahem.
But… I may have a problem.
Hmm, yeah, I am seeing a problem here.
I seem to have left my red-and-coral comfort zone only to plop my weary ass down in the land of reddy-plummy-brown. And it doesn’t stop with yarn. Sitting on my bed right now are a pair of pants, some pyjamas, and a purse, all in that shade of brown. On my night-table is a brown hair clip. Oh, and look over there, there’s a brown sweater with a lovely shawl collar that I need to steal for knitty purposes, and if I go to the front door there’s an adorable pair of brown mary janes that have been eating my feet a lot recently (but they’re so cuuuute), and next to them are a pair of brown slouchy boots and AHHH HELP ME IT’S TAKING OVER.
Gah. Even my nail polish matches the vest-in-progress.
Sick, sick, sick. The good news is that I’ve finally escaped from Ribbing Hell. The Back to School vest pattern seems to make a lot more sense than the Filthy Lying Tunic Of Seventeen Clothespins pattern, so there’s that. But it starts like this:
Cast on.
Purl for awhile.
Knit for awhile.
Purl for awhile.
Work 2×2 rib FOR THE REST OF ALL ETERNITY, UNTIL YOUR FINGERS BLEED AND YOUR HEAD ACHES WITH BOREDOM AND POSSIBLE BRAIN PARASITES AND, WRITHING WITH PAIN, YOU TAKE OUT A BALL OF FUCHSIA FUN FUR AND KNIT A PONCHO WITH IT FOR A CHANGE OF PACE AND THEN WEAR THE PONCHO OUT IN PUBLIC BECAUSE IT’S STILL MORE PLEASANT THAN MORE FUCKING 2X2 RIB oh okay I’ve reached 9 inches I can stop now. whew.
Now it’s time to worry about the sizing. I picked the 35.5″ size and I have a feeling I should have picked the 34″. My reasoning was that I’d be wearing it over a shirt, and I didn’t want it to stretch too much or it would do that thing where you have big white spots over your boobs where your shirt shows through a darker over-sweater. Er. Yeah. But I have a 35″ bust. So this is POSITIVE EASE. I fear positive ease. whimper
Pleasefitpleasefitpleasefit.
I don’t know about the Vest Problem, but there is a tiny ray of hope for the Brown Problem, and here it is.
That is a skein of Handmaiden Lady Godiva (…yuuuum), in, um… brown… but also! Teal! A colour that is not brown, and also is not red or coral or any sort of neutral! Yay! Rejoice! I wish I knew what colourway it was, because I want more of it. The closest I can find is Forest, but it’s greener and the brown is lighter and me no likey. Maybe it’s an especially dark and tealy dyelot of Forest. Or maybe I will never see this colourway again.
Well, I’ll just have to console myself with MORE BROWN YARN. Muhahahaha. Muhahahahahaha! MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
The yarn bin is a place of magical transformation. I stuffed a half-finished Maddy in there, looking like hot buttered ass, and a few weeks later it came out looking like a cute top.
Months ago, I stuffed the Fake-astanje Cardigan in the yarn bin. At the time, it was an adorable little sweater, only lacking some sleeves. Now winter looms, and along with frozen toes, frozen asses, and other frozen extremities that it’s best not to speak of, that means sweater-knitting. Time to reclaim that cardigan and give it some damn arms.
Little did I know that it would re-emerge from the yarn bin as a SWEATER OF HATE.
Let me tell you about Sweaters of Hate. They look pretty innocent. That’s part of their plan.
But don’t be fooled, they are objects of pure malevolence. They look like they’re going to fit you, but they don’t. And they don’t refuse to fit in some straightforward way. Of course not. They manage to be simultaneously too small and too big, and wrinkle in places where you know you didn’t put any extra fabric, and shrink in length if you look away for a moment, and then add fat to your upper arms. I don’t know where they get the fat.
They eat rows of knitting, too. I keep adding stitches to that first sleeve, and it doesn’t get any longer. It did at first. Just to lure me into a sense of complacence, I suspect. You think everything is going well, and you keep merrily knitting, and the sleeve doesn’t get any longer! By the time you notice, it’s too late!
I.
HATE.
KNITTING.
SLEEVES.
This is my first long-sleeved sweater. How bad can sleeves be, I thought. They’re just a long, quick tube. AAAAAAGGGHGHGHGHH. DIE SLEEVES I HATE YOU WHY WON’T YOU KNIT YOURSELF HEEEEELP ME THE SLEEVES ARE EATING MY BRAAAAIINNN
*twitch*
You know what else Sweaters of Hate do? They make you ranty. Not about sleeves. Well, yes, about sleeves, but also about everything.
I belong to a few knitting communities on LiveJournal. I don’t post to them anymore, because they’re not very friendly. They look like they’re friendly, but then you inadvertently say something that might be offensive to 0.0037% of society and you can bet that that 0.0037% will read your post and tell you in no uncertain terms that you are a very bad person. Like jokingly calling the community a “hive mind”, apparently. I didn’t do that. But someone did, and a pack of knitting-community-wolves promptly descended on them, and this is why I don’t post there. But I keep them on my friends list to read, because sometimes there’s some good info, and plenty of decent people among the wolves.
But when the communities are not being unfriendly, they’re being far too friendly, by which I mean rewarding people for being extremely annoying, and if anybody points out that said person is being extremely annoying, this is what happens:
“OMG! I thought this community was supposed to be friendly! I was just trying to share my [insert annoying behaviour/opinion/blog-whoring here]! You’re all meanies! I’m taking my ball and going home!”
“Nooo! Don’t leave! We love you and your annoying behaviour! All those other people are just jellus haterz! Don’t listen to them!”
“Yay, my fishing for compliments worked and I got some attention! Now I’ll stay and continue my annoying behaviour!”
Gah, I have gone completely off on a tangent here, this isn’t even what I meant to write about. I assume the Sweater of Hate is responsible for this fit of ranting. It certainly has nothing to do with me being a cranky bitch.
Anyway. I’m being harsh with that example, because everyone appreciates a little attention, annoying behaviour is subjective, and we’re all guilty of it now and then. But those communities are strange. Attention-whoring seems to be embraced, accidentally saying something controversial means you’re a horrible person, and you must be Nice at all times, except when you’re being a bitch, but that’s okay because you’re actually a Nice Person telling off a Mean Person, and by the way, here’s a link to your blog and you really love to get comments!
Aaaah. That’s what I really wanted to talk about, blog-whoring, but I’ve gone off on a tangent again, and this entry is getting too damn long. Oh, Sweater of Hate, what have you done to me? Maybe it’ll help if I turn it sideways a bit.
Hmm. I don’t think that’s working. Maybe if I add some hippos to it.
I think that’s a little bit better. You know what, I’ll have to talk about blog-whoring another day because I think I’ve already used up my bitch quota for the day. What I will talk about instead is sweaters. OF HATE.
I hate you, sweater.
This is my second attempt at this sweater and I still hate it. I liked it when I sent it to yarn bin exile, so it’s possible that if I shove it back in the yarn bin for awhile, it’ll undergo another metamorphosis. I kind of want to frog the whole black bit and redo it in a different lace pattern. And redo those awful button bands because they look like… er… awful button bands, I guess. How many times am I going to have to frog this sweater?!
I’ve already given up on writing up a pattern for it. (Hm, I should take it off the patterns page.) Which is fine, really, because nobody wants to make a Sweater of Hate.
Yes, it’s going back to the yarn bin, and hopefully will take my rants with it. I think it’s time to take out the bag of Malabrigo. There’s no way something that delicious could ever turn into a Sweater of Hate.
I’m going to make this! How cute is that sweater? Cute. Totally cute. Not at all hateful. YAY!
Goldilocks and the Three… Pairs… of… Scarf Edgings…
Once upon a time, there was an Unnecessary Yarn Order. A wee little order, just one skein of Finest Silke. And your Narrator waited and waited for notice that the Yarn was on its way, but no notice came.
Oh woe, thought the Narrator, and promptly contacted the Purveyors of Ye Olde Yarn Crack. But still, no notice came. Your Narrator worried that perhaps her missive had been eaten by a Dragon. On and on, she waited.
And finally, there came a distant message from yon Purveyors of Ye Olde Yarn Crack. Sure enough, Emaile Dragons had intercepted the missive, but all was well. The Yarn was being painted by Magickal Yarn Faeries, and would be on its way shortly.
Day after day, your Narrator waited for the messenger that would bring the Yarn. A fortnight passed, and there was no sign of any Yarn. On the plus side, there was no sign of Dragons either, or Burninated Peasants. So, there was that. Finally, just when your Narrator was about to give up all hope, an envelope arrived.
Your Narrator opened the envelope to find a…
Oops, hang on, that’s a bundle of tissue paper.
Oh, come on, that’s just a tease. Get with the yarn porn already.
Right, that’s better. Okay, where was I?
Ahem. Your Narrator opened the envelope to find a most lovely bundle of Finest Silke, painted in colours of such beauty only achieved by the most talented of Magickal Yarn Faeries.
And waiting for the Silke, in a shocking display of pre-planning and utilization of your Narrator’s Whole Asse, was a pattern for a lace scarf. Er, well, a lace chart of sorts. Lace Charte? I can’t keep this up much longer.
All that was left to do was find a matching cast-on and bind-off to edge the scarf, and your Narrator could start knitting with the Finest Silke, instead of writing insipid fairy-tale blog entries about not knitting with The Finest Silke.
Some scrap Yarn was procured, and the swatching began.
First, your Narrator tried an i-cord cast-on and bind-off. “This porridge edging is too hot messy”, said the swatch. “Also, your cast on stitches are all loose, because you suck,” continued the swatch. “Shut up, swatch,” replied your Narrator.
Next, a simple long tail cast-on matched with a purl bind-off. “This edging matches perfectly fine, but you’re not going to use it because you’re so obsessive-compulsive that it’ll bug you that the bumpy purl-y bit is smaller on the cast-on than the bind-off,” said the swatch.
“Swatches can’t talk,” said your Narrator.
“And you’re totally telling this story wrong anyway,” continued the swatch, “aren’t you supposed to be talking about cold porridge at this point? And where are all the bears?”
“I have sharp, pointy knitting needles,” your Narrator replied.
“I’ll be good,” promised the swatch.
Finally, your Narrator tried a few rows of garter stitch at each end. “There’s nothing really wrong with this edging,” said the swatch, “so you may as well just use it.”
Your Narrator eyed the swatch critically. “Ehh. I guess it’s okay. But… I don’t think I really like it. I want something better.”
“Haven’t you been listening? This is the part of the story where you’re supposed to say that the edging is just right. Well, the porridge, but you’ve obviously decided to take some creative license on that,” complained the swatch.
“But it isn’t just right,” insisted your Narrator, “I don’t like it.”
“Look,” snapped the swatch, “nobody likes an open-ended story. You need some closure here. Pick an edging, live happily ever after, and for fuck’s sake stop capitalizing random words.”
“Never!” Yelled Your Narrator Jubilantly. “You Will Pry My Random Capitalization From… yeah, okay.”
“So? The edging?”
“Um… well… hey, look over there! Look at that lovely yarn porn!”
The Most Evile swatch was eaten by a Dragon, and your Narrator and the Yarn of Finest Silke lived happily ever after. The end.
.
.
.
I AM NEVER DOING THIS AGAIN.
… hey, so, anyone have a suggestion for a nice matching cast-on and bind-off and/or edging for a lace scarf? Just… no picots. Don’t talk to me about picots.
It whispers to me. When I close my eyes, I can hear its seductive purr. “I’m so beautiful,” it murmurs, “so soft, so silky. I’ve seen you watching me. I know what you want to do to me.”
“Knit with me,” it urges. “Just do it. Do it now. I know you’ll be gentle.”
I am weak, very weak. I knew it was waiting for me, sitting quietly in the yarn bin, tempting me. No hurry, I thought, trying to ignore it, but I can’t fight it any longer. The Mini Maiden wants to get on the needles, and I am powerless to resist.
Oh, Mini Maiden, what am I going to do with you?
Rhetorical schmetorical, I choose to interpret that question literally and in fact I know exactly what I want to do with it. In an effort to become a Real Designer (snerk), I got myself a proper sketchbook. A nice big one, so that I could work out all the pattern details right next to the sketches, instead of scribbling them on the back of a printout of English Mesh Lace (again). I tracked down my old, neglected sketching pencils. For some reason, they were inside a furry black drawstring bag. (Not that one.) I… don’t know.
I was rewarded with a sketch that is at least 3% nicer than the ones I draw on lined paper with whatever pen[cil] I find lying on my desk. Totally worth it. Uh… right?
Effort is overrated, I think. Still, I like not having LINES going through my sketches. Hooray sketchbook.
I once hand-wound a skein of laceweight yarn from Knitpicks, 440 yds of it, and swore that I would never do it again. Well, mostly I just swore. But the “never again” thing was said too. I guess I technically kept my self-promise, because 547 yds of fingering weight is not the same thing as 440 yds of laceweight.
The yarn whispered some more during this process. If I didn’t know better, I would swear that what it said was, “neener neener, you don’t have a swift and ball winder, because you suuuuck.” But my beloved Mini Maiden would never say something like that.
By the end of it, I had noticed two things.
1. This yarn is really really fucking gorgeous.
2. This yarn is really really not my colour.
I knew about #2 (and for that matter, #1) when I bought it. It was a deliberate attempt to buy yarn that wasn’t so firmly seated on the warm-toned half of the colour wheel that it had made a permanent ass-indent. Variety! Spice of life! And so on.
I can wear those colours, I think. And they are very pretty. Particularly that bright teal-y sort of shade. I must embrace the world outside of my comfortable little corner of red and coral! Yeah. Whatever. I guess I should go and swatch.
P.S. Guess what size needles I’ll be using. Hint: madness may be involved.
P.P.S. I have become obsessed with Artfibers. I WILL purchase a giant heap of their beautiful, beautiful yarn. (When I can afford it. Which isn’t now.) Don’t tell the Mini Maiden. I don’t want it to fly into a jealous rage.
I’m unique, just like everybody else!
This entry is brought to you by a large pile of Silky Wool, currently angsting over what it wants to be when it grows up.
I did something shocking and appalling today.
I saw the new Interweave Knits on the magazine rack at the grocery store. I picked it up and flipped to the Tangled Yoke Cardigan that has been taunting me. Looked through the pattern. Totally my kind of pattern. Body knit in one piece, no yucky seaming apart from a little grafting at the underarms. Straightforward construction. Nothing complicated about the cable chart. I don’t have size 0 needles but that can be easily rectified. Looks just as lovely in the magazine as it does in the web pictures.
Then I put the magazine back down and left the store.
Well, okay, first I stopped at the Tim Hortons counter and bought a chocolate milk Iced Cappuccino. Then I left the store. My point is, I did not buy the magazine containing the lovely pattern. I think… I’ve gone off it. I think I was almost hoping it would be knit in eighteen different pieces and then seamed while blindfolded and listening to “Oops, I Did It Again” on an endless loop and then trimmed with bright purple fun fur (not pictured), so that I’d have a good reason not to make it. And I think I know why.
(Apologies to anyone still waiting for a Ravelry invite.)
Everybody wants to make it.
One of the nice things about knitting is that you can create a one-of-a-kind item. Even from a pattern that everybody and their dog is knitting. (If your dog is actually knitting something, please send pics.) You can modify the pattern. You can use an unusual yarn. You can add completely unnecessary ribbons and probably anger the yarn gods in the process. Lots and lots of ways to make a project your own. So what’s the problem?
Well, I don’t want to modify the pattern. I like it exactly the way it is. I wouldn’t be using the recommended yarn, but Silky Wool is probably the most common and obvious sub. My version of this cardigan would look exactly like everyone else’s version of this cardigan.
Trying to be different just for the sake of being different is dumb. I know this. Why does this bug me? So what if mine looks like everyone else’s; it’s still a gorgeous cardigan.
I may well go right back and get that magazine, because I am being an idiot. Or I may use the Giant Pile O’ Silky Wool for an idea that’s still floating around in my head, squeaking “knit me, nowwww, or at least sketch me before you forget me”. I’ve promised myself that I won’t start any new sweaters until I finish my neglected Fake-astanje Cardigan, so I’ve got a long time to decide. Because I am lazy. And will never finish that cardigan. Maybe moths have eaten it by now. Ugh, if moths get into my yarn bin, I am going to have to cut a bitch moth.
In other news, the awesome Webbo has given me a Rockin’ Girl Blogger award. Weeee!
It seems like everyone (and their dog… er… bitch?) has gotten one of these already, so I’m not sure who to pass it on to. Will have to figure that out.
And one more, completely random note: Every time I see a textured stitch pattern that looks all neat and interesting and such, it turns out to be freaking MOSS STITCH. That’s it? Not that it doesn’t appeal to my laziness, but… that’s it? That ridiculously simple stitch pattern can look so intricate? I see a lot of moss stitch in my future.
My completely unnecessary yarn order arrived yesterday. I guess I’m officially a stasher now. Is there an initiation rite to the Order of the Stash? Does it hurt? Does it involve The Paddling of the Swollen Ass… With Paddles?
The Euroflax is definitely brown, not red. But it’s a really pretty shade of brown, so I’m not too disappointed. I’d say that it seems to have a rosy glow from within, except that I’d clearly be insane. It’s yarn. It doesn’t glow. I’m just trying to convince myself that I don’t mind that it isn’t red, because it’s MAGIC GLOWING YARN. Which it isn’t. Shut up, brain. But it sure is purty.
And then there’s the Plymouth Royal Bamboo, which is a strange little yarn. It’s very soft and quite nice to look at, but it has sort of a flimsy, cheap feel to it. I’m not sure how well it’s going to hold up to the mess of cables and lace I plan to put it through.
What mess, you ask? Well, this mess:
Guess what: I know nothing about charts. I have used one chart, ever, in my knitting life – a cable chart for Rusted Root. I certainly don’t know how to chart things myself. So of course it seemed like a brilliant idea to chart an improvised headband design full of cables and lace and weird slip stitch edgings as my very first chart attempt. What could possibly go wrong?
Ha. I thought, oh, this will be a piece of cake. I just download a knitting symbols font, find a site with knitting symbol standards, and I’m set. Except, there are no knitting symbol standards. Apparently I could use a Hamburglar for knits, and a stack of blueberry pancakes for purls, and as long as I include a legend identifying those symbols, I’m good.
And then there’s the less-silly-making-but-equally-irritating problem of charting permanent increases/decreases (ie. not the lace-kind that are eventually evened out with decreases/increases) that aren’t on the edges of the chart. Do I use blank squares, or do I just allow rows not to line up right once in a while? I went for the latter, as you can probably tell, because it seemed ridiculous to have a chart that looked like a rectangle when the actual knitted object would be squished skinny at both ends. But isn’t the whole point of charts that stitches should line up? Aaarrrrrgh. No, the whole point of charts is to make me very angry. Now I know.
I do want to write up this pattern, assuming that the FO doesn’t look like ass – sorry, bamboo-based ass substitute – so I will have to get the chart sorted out somehow. I’ll write up line-by-line instructions but honestly visual instructions are going to be much easier to follow. Or they would, if they were charted by somebody who knows what they’re doing.
That’s it. I give up.
I had no intention of knitting Coachella when I looked through the new Knitty. I thought it was cute, and the construction was neat, but it just wasn’t my style. So I acknowledged its cuteness and went back to pondering yarn subs for Zinzin.
But then I saw this Coachella and it was all over. So I give up, and I’m going to make one.
Of course I had no yarn for it. I am not a stasher; I generally buy yarn only if I have a project in mind (though I will make exceptions for such yummies as Mini Maiden). I hadn’t yet decided what sort of tank to make with my new Misti Cotton, and pondered that as a sub. Nice drape, not too heavy, it could work. But the gauge was larger. And since I plan to knit the XS – going on my theory that I should knit one size smaller than the size I actually should be – I can’t do the trick where you knit a size down with a larger gauge and it all evens out. I just didn’t feel like reworking the pattern. For once I am feeling exceptionally lazy and want to just follow a pattern as written. This is terribly out of character for me; I fully expect to get halfway through and start inappropriately adding lace or buttons or neon green fun fur or something.
I’m just kidding. I would never add buttons.
Anyway, I was in Toronto again yesterday, and wanted to stop by Romni to pick up another skein of Misti Cotton, because I think my plan to get a tank top out of two skeins was wildly optimistic. And while there, I found this:
100% tussah silk, Romni’s house brand, so it wasn’t too pricey. About the same size and gauge as the recommended Berroco Suede (which I had no intention of using, because suede yarn scares me. I know it’s not actually suede. I don’t care), with a similar ribbon-like construction. I know, I know, I have complained about the impracticality of 100% silk yarn and I never learn, do I. But this is the rare garment where I think it will actually be suitable. I reserve the right to change my mind after beginning to knit, and to swear a lot. (By the way, my blog is apparently rated NC-17, no doubt due to my filthy, filthy mouth. I am not particularly surprised.)
On the topic of silk and cursing, I have decided on a name for the silk thing. It will be called Maddy.
Officially, it is named after a doll I had as a child. (What kind of child names their doll Maddy?) The doll even had red hair, so it would match the top nicely, if for some reason I wanted a doll-matching top, which I do not. I have no idea what happened to that doll. But I sure loved it as a kid. (Seriously, Maddy? Why not Madeline? What the hell was wrong with my child-brain? Maddy. Gah.)
Unofficially, it is named that way because three letters of its name accurately describe my state of mind when working on the garment.
XXX HOTT BARELY LEGAL YARN PORN XXX
I happened to be in Toronto today, so I thought I’d take the opportunity to go yarn shopping. I didn’t get much. I’d like to say that’s because of my massive willpower, but no, it’s because of the fact that I’m crap ass broke.
First I went to Romni to exchange my skein of Cotton Fleece left over from Rusted Root. If you’ve ever been there, you’d think it would be easy to find something, anything to get. But they were out of the book I wanted (that Barbara Walker one about knitting top-down sweaters), and I wandered around, fondled yarn, but nothing screamed “buy me”. Let me clarify that, plenty of things screamed “buy me”, but I usually had to scream back “I can’t afford you”.
What finally caught my eye was some Misti Cotton:
I know nothing about this yarn, so if it sucks, I don’t want to hear about it. It is soooo soft and has a lovely sheen, and I think I can get a little tank top out of two skeins. Weeee!
That’s all I got at Romni, because I knew I wanted a little treat from Lettuce Knit and thus had to conserve my limited funds…
Mini Maiden! Finally! I’ve been coveting it for a while now. I have no idea what I’m going to make with it – something lacy, for sure, but what? I suspect the colourway is Paris. Dear Fleece Artist/Handmaiden: MARK YOUR DAMN COLOURWAYS. I know no two skeins are exactly alike, but they have consistent general colour schemes, so just frickin’ mark them so that when I like one, I know what it is and can buy it again! Graaaaaah! Graaaaaaaaaaah! Rant rant rant.
This is my attempt to branch out a bit, colour-wise, and knit something that isn’t red, or coral, or a corally sort of peach, or that shade of orange that’s halfway between red and coral, or red with black trim, or coral with red trim. You’ve seen my closet. Well, if you haven’t, here it is again:
You see? Ridiculous. I am proud to say that I put down the bright coral Misti Cotton in favour of that lovely beige. Which, given the closet pic, is kind of like ordering a diet cola with your cheeseburger, but it’s a start.
Maybe the silk thing will start behaving now that there are equally yummy yarns around to challenge its silky silkiness. (And maybe I should take Webbo’s very good advice and take a break from the silk thing, before I go completely mad, as opposed to my current state of “slightly, but quite tolerably, mad”.)