We're Here to Stay

I am very lucky to live in a city that has embraced knitting and knitters. There is almost nothing that I can't find in this city, and if I am really stuck on something, it's pretty much a guarantee that there is someone who will be able to help me. I see people knitting on transit, in parks, coffee shops and pubs. I myself have knit in lines for movies and more than once have seen other people doing the same. There are new knitters just starting to test out the waters and veterans doing lace. There are about ½ dozen knitting stores that I can choose from, and while I have my favourites all of them serve the community and it increases our opportunity for knitting diversity. We can connect online with knitters from all over the world thanks to Ravelry and we can order yarns from all over the world thanks to the internet. There are tons of ways to learn how to knit or learn a new technique out there, both in book and online format, and it's increasingly common to hear a knitter say “there's an app for that”. All over the place in my city and others, stitch and bitch groups pop up with stunning regularity. The Yarn Harlot is an internationally known knitter whose books and wit make her a favourite among knitters, (and their partners and family members).

So my question is this; Why does the media treat knitting like it's the new exciting fad? I just don't get it. One of my LYSs has been featured on T.V. a couple of times. Though there was a gap of well over a year between the two airings, the report still made them sound like they were pioneers in a completely new thing. Magazines both paper and online seem unable to report about stores and knitting without being in awe that it actually happens and that there is an entire knitting community out there. (Just for the record, everything I've ever read or watched has always been positive, it just stuns me that the general media still seems to think that knitting is “new.”) It's almost like knitting has been this well kept secret tucked away behind closed doors and finally, us knitters are brave enough to step out and show our not so dirty little secret to the world. Uh-huh.

While I have to admit that the new embrace of the pastime has certainly made knitting a lot more interesting, knitting has been around for hundreds of years. It's not new. It's not always been the “fashionable” thing to do, but it's always been there and it always will be. I am glad that the media has helped to fuel a knitting-friendly environment and that they always seem to be nice to both individual knitters and the community as a whole, but we are not a novelty! The same number of people taking up naked swimming with the sharks as there are knitters, now that might be something to report on. As for knitters, we are happy to be the “feel good story” when it's needed, just please, get over your shock. We really aren't new.

Snap Shots

It's no secret that I am attempting to organize my stash this year.  This means shopping in my own yarn store and creating finished items that I have been longing for. I took my first big step at doing this by going through the ends that have accumulated over the years. I have kept my ends with the best intention of doing something with them, but finally had to admit that it was never going to happen and decided to sort through them. Some things got tossed, some got offered to friends, and some are still sitting with an undecided question mark over them, but they will not go back into my stash.

Horrid brown scarf in the middle

What amused me while I was sorting, was realizing that with very few exceptions, I was able to recall exactly what each yarn had been used for. I could pick something up and say "that was the pair of gloves I made for so and so. Or there's the end of the hideous brown scarf that Sean loves and wears proudly, and cringe every time I see it." (I have since made him a much nicer scarf, that I do actually like.) Some even come with a little bit of knitting wisdom. The aforementioned horrid brown yarn for example. I learned with that project, that it is important to feel the love when you knit something 'cause if you don't have it while you are knitting, it will never appear.

Each little ball is a snap shot of part of my knitting history. My husband came home, and pointed to a particle set of ends and said, “there's the first sweater you made me.” At that point my “type A personality” kicked in and I thought, maybe I really will do something with this pile of stuff. Maybe getting rid of these ends is a bad idea." Then I took out my phone and took a picture and decided the ends need to be nothing more then a physical snap shot. It certainly takes up a lot less space.

A Few Facts

After downloading and printing a pattern from Knitty yesterday, I turned to my husband and said that I had no idea what people did before Ravelry and Knitty since both have been around for almost all of my knitting life. So I thought I'd find out. Here are a few little facts.

• Knitting, as defined by Wiktionary, is "Combining a piece of thread with two needles into a piece of fabric." The word is derived from knot, thought to originate from the Dutch verb knutten, which is similar to the Old English cnyttan, to knot.
• It is commonly believed that knitting started in the Middle East and Egypt can claim having the first known examples of true knitted garments, brightly coloured socks.
• In the 1400's knitting was a man's game. Guilds were formed and knitting was a respected profession for the boys only.
• Fair Isle is named after a tiny island in the north of Scotland.
• Apparently the way in which we knit is affected by world wars. During WWII Continental knitting fell out of favour due to it's German origins.
• You can knit with the following: wool, angora, llama, alpaca, camel, dog, cat, yak, qiviut, cotton, silk, bamboo, hemp, yarn with milk proteins, jute, nettle (surprisingly soft), raffia, yucca, coconut husk, banana leaves (very, very stretchy), soy, and corn (knits a lot like cotton.)

Mmmmm....Cookies

I am proud to present my first ever Cookie A socks! These socks represent a breakthrough of the Cookie A barrier. I never thought that I would make anything by this designer. Let me make it clear, I have her books. I love her designs. Looking at them puts me in something resembling a trance, and I can flip through the pages staring at the glossy photos for an almost endless length of time. Unfortunately, her patterns have always scared the heck out of me. The same lacy, flowy, parts of her socks, the part with the beautiful spirals or cabling, the parts that make me think, “my god those are gorgeous I would love to have a pair of those,” are also the same things that make me want to go screaming into the night when I think about knitting them. I had a failed attempt with Valia a while back. I cast-on and knit the first 10 or so rounds and then they got tossed into the knitting basket where they sat untouched until I frogged them last month. I decided that maybe I was taking the wrong approach to the whole Cookie A thing. I decided to start simpler. I went through her designs until I found a pair of socks that would build my confidence as opposed to causing me anxiety. And I found them in her BFF socks.

The simple repeat of ribbing and cabling produce a lovely easy to follow knit. And though I did find the cable decreases a little tricky, I pushed through. I had a brief moment of anxiety when I was picking up the gusset stitches since Cookie does not actually state how many stitches should be picked up, she simply says to “pick up each slipped stitch.” I realized this is actually brilliant and I now plan to substitute this technique into all my sock knitting. At one point my husband came and sat beside me, watched me knit for a few minutes, asked to see my progress as a whole. (I proudly showed him the sock to that point.) He looked me straight in the face and said “huh, I thought you said her socks are hard to knit.”

And that really is the point, isn't it. Sometimes it's just a matter of finding the right pattern and being in the right frame of mind. But, as my BFF and knitting guru has said to me many times before, if you can do the knit stitch and the purl stitch, you can make anything. And while am the first to admit that there are still patterns that I am not ready to try, it is not because I lack the skill, I lack the time and more realistically the patience.

I have just turned the heel on my first pair of Kia-Me. It is again, not an overly difficult pair of Cookies, but it is a pair that I have wanted since I first saw the book. I'm not sure what pair I will jump to after those are finished. But I guarantee there will be more. I have the Cookie A bug. I am happy and so are my feet.

Progress of a Sort

It's just over two months into my "cold sheep pledge", and aside from my little slip off the wagon with Indigodragonfly when I spent the weekend with her, I've been doing really well. I am actually enjoying it. This is a bit of a shock. But I'm really excited to be using up old stash and was even more thrilled when I was able to move a big chunk of yarn out of the living room and into the closet. I am one step closer to having everything in one place. I even have made an attempt to start organizing things. This did not go entirely as planned.

I have Lamb's Pride in my stash. Some of it I have bought and have used so only ends remain. Some I have inherited from my friends. (I know this conclusively because I found receipts tucked in to the balls that have the names of my friends on them.) Some are from my first attempt at making a sweater for my husband. That didn't really go so well and it was frogged. It felts beautifully and I went through a felted cat bed Christmas gift phase during which I happily took whatever people offered me. (As an aside, my spell check program hates the word “frogged.” You'd think by now it would realize that it lives with a knitter. )

Ten days ago, I decided it was time for the Lamb's Pride to go. I was never going to use it again for anything and I was going to offer it up to my knitting friends, especially my one friend who felts everything. So I grabbed my emergency energy bar, bottle of water and a Sherpa, and dove into the mess stash to pile up all the Lamb's Pride in my living room. This is what I found.

I was stunned. My only thought was “where did this all come from.” Staring at the pile, I realized that I wasn't going to give this away, though this would have made my life much simpler. I realized that this was going to become a gypsy blanket. I've finished six squares so far. The ironic part is that I've had other knitting friends have offer me more ends if I can use them. I've said yes...... I think I may be missing the point a little on this one. Sigh.

The Perfect Pairing

The perfect pairing of wine and cheese produces a glorious experience for the lucky recipient.  So too does the perfect pairing of yarn and pattern.  I achieved that this week when I paired Stephen West's Boneyard Shawl with Indigodragonfly's 100% Merino yarn in the colourway Grrrr....Arrrrrrgh.  (That's a Buffy the Vampire Slayer inspired colourway.) 

The pattern is a simple garter stitch shawl that is wonderful to knit and beautifully shows off the yarn that is being used.  The colourway has subtle colour changes that complement the pattern without overpowering it. 

 The result is a peice of knitting that I am truly happy with and can't wait to wear and show off.  If all my final products pleased me this much, I would be a much happier knitter indeed.

What is Knitting Really?

The simple answer to the question is that it is the moving of loops of yarn from one needle to another in hopes of creating a garment. However, if you ask any knitter is something more. It is trips to the doctors office, and time spent sitting in a car. It is a labour of love and sometimes something very frustrating. It is often misunderstood by those who do not knit and often it is a starting point for interest and conversation if you knit in public. It is giving up part of yourself and sometimes it's a memory of times past.

I was knitting one time on public transit on my way to my local yarn store when an elderly man sat down in the seat beside me. After watching me for a few minutes, he proudly told me that when he was a young boy, he was taught to knit in school. He then asked me if I was married and explained to me, with much love in his voice, that his wife knits for him all the time and that he has received many sweaters over the course of their marriage. He believed that any man who has a women who knits for him is a lucky man indeed and that he hoped my husband knew “just how lucky he is.” (I assured him that my husband does.) He asked me where I was going and then told me that he was going to tell his wife about the "lovely young knitter" he met on the subway and promised to take his wife to my knitting store so she could connect with the new generation of knitters. He was truly thrilled to learn that knitting was a popular pastime, and happy to know that the "young people of today were still willing make productive use of their time". I'm not sure if his wife has been to the store, but I guarantee she would be welcomed with open arms.

Another time, I had gentleman sit down with me in the park where I was knitting on my lunch break. He told me that he had been raised in South Africa "where everybody knits". He moved to Canada when he was in his early 20's and for a long time couldn't figure out what was wrong with our buses. Then one day he realized that he couldn't hear the clicking of knitting needles as he rode.

I've never had anyone tell me horror stories associated with knitting. Sometimes I've heard "I've tried to learn," or "one time my great Aunt made me this horrid sweater." But I never heard how knitting ruined a life or gave anyone nightmares. Knitting always seems to bring out happy times or thoughts. So really, knitting is happiness. It is love. I love knitting as I know most knitters do. I love the way the needles feel in my hands and the way a beautiful yarn becomes a final product. I think that knitters make the world a better place and I am happy to be part of the that community, even if sometimes the non-knitting community doesn't understand it at all. Really, it's their loss and I hope that they each have someone who loves them enough to make them a knitted garment at least once in their life.