Showing posts with label Pinwheel Blanket. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Pinwheel Blanket. Show all posts

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Changing Gears

We in the desert have lucked out with an exceptionally mild spring. Only now is it beginning the transition from gloriously pleasant to hotter than the dickens, which means it's time to transition into a new phase of knitting projects.

My hands were getting sore from all the projects I'd be doing on tiny needles, so I took a break from that branch of crafting and zipped up a recycled materials tote bag.



I am thrilled to death with it--this is exactly how I envisioned it turning out. Big deal, you say, it's just a square of jersey fabric sewn on a bag. Scoff not:the last time I tangled with the Funstyler, it won.

The knit-free day lasted just that long--a day--and then it was back to the needles. I finished up my Pinwheel Shawl, and am similarly pleased with the result:



The pattern is incredibly simple, and as promised in Knitalong, shows off fancy yarns to great advantage. The two I used were Malabrigo (left over from Hermanita's Firebird) and Parisienne (purchased during my post-semester meltdown). For being so little, it's incredibly warm, and will serve me well during the months of freezing A/C.

Now I'm ready for something on bigger needles, with bigger yarn, so the Top-Down Shoulder Warmer may finally get its turn!

Monday, April 6, 2009

Update!

I hate falling behind on blogging. I always feel like then I have to write something sparkling with interest to make up. Unfortunately, nothing that happened over the past three weeks strikes me as sparkling. The closest I can get is offering photos labeled in exclamations points.

The Palo Verdes bloomed!



My Pinwheel Blanket, aka the Fireball Shawl, is speeding along!


I should be committed to Easter giftlets! That's the latest in the long list of distractions-that-have-been-keeping-me-from-blogging. I thought that I'd whip out a few little stashbusters to tuck among the paper grass and jellybeans, something quick and fun. Ha. I've Ravelled giftlet the first, but not giftlet the second because giftlet the second is two partial skeins in the depths of my stash. Giftlet the first is a monster in more ways than one, a little monster that has sucked up hours of my knitting time over the past two days. Today alone I have worked on it for over two hours, and my progress can be measured in under an inch.

Don't get me wrong--the pattern is great, and it will look cute as a button tucked among brightly wrapped candies. But ye gods, this project epitomizes the warning: little ≠ quick to knit!

Thursday, March 19, 2009

Eureka!

I found the project I wanted to knit. It wasn't a new one, like the washcloth in Fibra Natura's Cottonwood banged out in two days, or the Pinwheel Blanket started the other night. It's the Latvian Sock.



Who'd have thought? Certainly not me. But the only thing that progresses slower than this sock is the city bus system, and after several rides to and from work, not to mention the time spent *waiting* for said buses to arrive, I worked down the leg, through the heel flap and heel, and past the gusset. Now I'm sailing down the foot. Woohoo!

This, I believe, is the thing of it. When I'm doing the leg of a first sock, it seems like there's so much to go. The heel area is always fun, because of the little tricks employed to make the tube twist so the top and bottom halves meet at a (roughly) 45ยบ angle. I always feel very clever at this point, even though I am only following the instructions that someone has written out for me. Once I hit the foot, I feel like I'm in the home stretch, and it's a race to see how fast I can get to the end.

An aside: socks are incredibly hard to photograph at this stage. They won't lay flat.



The second sock has a separate set of issues for me, i.e., can I make the second one the same size as the first, and how much can it be off before the difference becomes noticeable? This is always fraught with anxiety. But for now, I've got my perfect project, and am happy as a clam watching my Latvian sock go round and round, closer and closer to the toe.