Six Months to the Day

That is how long it took me to complete my third Icarus.

I am not sure how I managed to work Haruni--a pattern I'd never completed before--in a month, without a single setback, while this shawl--a pattern I know well--was one setback after the next. I will not ponder that one too deeply; I'm just glad it's done and I can move onto something new! Want to check out the specs? They're Raveled here.

Transition

The past few weeks have been a time of transition. The desert is slowly unfolding from the dark coziness of winter. Days are righter earlier (although still not at my bus stop, the morning chill has less of a bite, and the flowers are still in full force (pictured above, my beloved Desert Bells). Blazing, unremitting sun and soul-crushing heat will come soon, but for now everything is so pretty and fresh we can pretend that leaving behind winter is a good thing.

At the same time, I have transitioned from my old job & volunteering at the University for a new internship, which means a new schedule, new bus, and new work. It promises to be quite an interesting time.

If only the same could be said for my knitting. I am down to the last...few...rows..of my Icarus, and it simply will not end. There was rawther an ugly scenario involving a third knot that, in a fit of pique, I snapped right out of the skein. It involved a lot of yarn, too. As we were untangling the first knot, Querido asked how one reattaches yarn. In a desperate attempt to make my knitting seem remotely interesting, I will present it here.

* Like casting on, binding off, and holding one's yarn, this is one of those things that everybody does differently. For lace in particular, where the fabric is delicate and you don't want any nasty lumpy areas, there are enough different techniques for rejoining yarn to fill an encyclopœdia. This shawl is for me, however, and I am entirely out of patience with it, so I rejoined the yarn the way I always rejoin yarn, which a statistically significant portion of the knitting population will undoubtedly feel is wrong on so many levels. All of them can go read Knitting without Tears and see what EZ has to say about "right ways" of knitting.

Ahem. Rejoining yarn:



Start with the ends (ends, not end, because I'm working with two strands of yarn at the same time) in a place away from lots of holes so you don't have to worry about the ends working loose, coming to a hole, and unraveling. I have one strand attached to the skein and one not, so I need to reattach just one of them. I place the new strand next to the old ones (one unbroken, one broken), smush them all together so they're like a single strand, and knit for an inch (or until I'm in danger of running into another section of holes).



Then, I drop the endy bit of the broken strand, and I'm left with just two strands again, which is how it should be. In this picture, you can see (right to left) the tail of yarn where I started the new strand, the tail of yarn where I dropped the broken strand, and the two strands, both connected with the skein of yarn, which I will continue working with.



Now push those tails out of the way, pick up the two strands attached to the skein, and keep working as if nothing happened. Which it did, and you will be reminded of as you knit past the place where you rejoined the yarn, at which points you will think uncharitable thoughts about Merino laceweight. You can also think uncharitable thoughts about Merino laceweight as you weave in these ends later, but that step belongs to a tutorial on weaving in ends.

And that, Querido, is how to rejoin yarn.

What else...

Little news on the knitting front here; after finally untangling the Gorgonian Knot and skipping through Chart 3 of the Icarus' border, my skein decided to disintegrate & form another tangle. I hate the idea of breaking the yarn again to get this one out, so I'm trying to limp it along. It's slow going, to be sure.

In other news:

The aloes in our backyard are blooming, and this year we have not one but *two* mutant flower spikes. Ooh!

We've had some deliciously cool weather, allowing me to hide what has gone from an uneven sunburn to an uneven tan. My weather widget assures me these temperatures will last through the weekend; I may need to take this opportunity to even my tan out a bit so as to look less ridiculous.

I am caught up in the middle of a rawther deliciously dark novel called Johannes Cabal, Necromancer. I never recommend books until I've finished them, but this one looks, at page 125, to be perfect for anyone who enjoys Neil Gaiman's superbly British style of black humor.

Knock Me Over With a Feather

Some of you may be wondering whatever happened to the Icarus I kicked up such a ruckus over. It never did get immolated, or reknitted. In the end--my grandmother's birthday being around the corner--I decided to make the best of a bad situation and block the beast.

Thinking of albatrosses as a very fitting metaphor, I washed it, firmly.

I dumped it on the bed and took a dead jellyfish picture.



I blocked it, very firmly.



Taking a panoramic shot, I decided that what I was seeing was achieved only by the fact it was mounted tighter than a kite on five blocking wires and two sets of pins, and that the top edge would immediately collapse back into its Eurofighter outline the instant it was released.



I was wrong.



Guess it's a good thing I decided not to frog it.

Icarus Indeed

From Wednesday to Friday, I toiled over the Icarus. I finished the second skein and dug into the third. Friday night, I went through an EP and a full-length mix CD on the bind off alone. But I was determined--I would finish that shawl before the weekend officially began, or bust.

Well. I finished the Icarus at 11 on Friday night. And it was a bust.

Like its mythological namesake, it fell from the sky of expectations a blazing ball of folly.

The fault did not lay in the late nights spent knitting, although I admit to a fair number of fudges in the last chart. No--the die was cast much, much earlier.

Looking at the monstrosity long enough to take a photograph is more than I can bear, but here's a mental image so you get the idea: the top edge has a silhouette similar to the leading edge of the wings of a Eurofighter. It is supposed to be exactly the opposite, with a perfectly straight top edge and deeply v-ed bottom.

You guessed it. I didn't take my gauge before starting.

Yes, I know--gasp! swoon! cry to the heavens!--what was the girl thinking? I wasn't. I pulled out a size 4 needle, started knitting, and never looked back.

I was furious and am furious. Not taking gauge is the classic beginner's mistake, which is what makes it sting so badly for someone 9 years a knitter. I haven't lost a great deal of money in the endeavor--Malabrigo is shockingly inexpensive--but I have lost a great deal of face. The only thing that is keeping me from ripping the entire thing out, making a mongo gauge swatch and starting over is a) the fact that doing the whole thing once took an entire semester and I am Icarused out, and b) I gave the beast to Mum to keep out of my sight so I wouldn't do anything rash like ripping the whole thing out, knitting a mongo gauge swatch, and starting the whole thing over again.

While I wait to see whether my perfectionism or my common sense wins out, I am taking refuge in a stash project out of some Jaeger pebble wool that was, if the color is any indicator, was manufactured in the 70's. The pattern is my own, and I can rip and reknit to my heart's content while I nurse my bruisèd confidence.

Speeding Along

My poor little thumb (left) has been taking a beating at work, and after the beating it took over the semester (note-taking--how sad is that?), it's very sensitive. To spare it, this will be a low text entry.

The Icarus is speeding along, so much as anything that has 400+ stitches per row can speed. It doesn't look much different than it did Monday, however, so I'll spare you a picture.

Until I finish that, I will not let myself start any new projects. A little voice at the back of my mind has been coaxing me to take a break and step back, but I know it better tha that. If I were to step away from the Icarus, I wouldn't want to go back. I would have to be forcibly dragged back to it, and that would just make a scene.

So until Icarus is finished, I'm only thinking about starting other projects. Namely stash projects, because the same little voice has been suggesting yarn purchases as well. Topping the list of destash victims is this cotton.



It has been in my stash for almost as long as I've been a knitter, and I've been trying to figure out what to do with it for that long, too. I finally found the perfect project on Owl and Acorn. A string bag--free pattern, takes only one skein, and is completely functional. And let's not forget cute. I am very much a fan of the Miss-Marple-chic.

And here's the genius: I doubt that one skein will be able to carry me beyond the body. Another skein will be needed for the handles. It will be a purchase, but a purchase fully within the guidelines of stash-busting. And--further security--any leftovers will be forwarded to washcloth knitting. *insert maniacal giggle*

Between knitting, I have extended my definition of nothing.



Bleugh. The only motivator here is that I'm signed up to take the GRE on the 28th of this month. My reasoning is that my soul has already been sold for that morning; I might as well get my money's worth out of the sale.

On a brighter note, the weather here has been gorgeous. Easter's threat was merely that. Normally, May is like a scene out of Dante's Inferno, but up to now, we've been able to have the windows open all morning, sometimes all day, with fresh little breezes puffing up the sheers with inspiring, sweet-scented air. It's positively glorious, and forecast to last through the weekend.

It's Good to Be Free

Hello



Hello



Hello



School is out, and I am free!!!! Every time I think of it, I get excited all over again. After replenishing my soul with music (note title and intro are both Oasis references), I feel fully prepared to enjoy my time off.

My first urge was to run to my LYS and browse about. I have a zillion things that I want to knit (NOW) but seeing as I only have two hands and three projects on the needles--not to mention that little destash vow--I resisted. Before I can set one foot in a yarn store, I have to make considerable progress on at least one of these projects.

Icarus is my current target. It is getting to the unwieldy stage, but as you can see in the picture, I'm into the frilly edgy bit. In more technical terms, I am halfway through the third chart (of four). Being able to quantify my progress is really helping to keep me motivated. The other motivator is the thought of a few instant gratification projects followed by the opportunity to make a yarn purchase. Within destash mission guidelines. Of course.

As a direct result of being a full-time student, my definition of "nothing" is rawther skewed. When I get back to school and everyone is asking what the others did over break, people who are still hyped up over their huge vacation to see the seven wonders of the world are really at a loss when they hear that I was equally gleeful to do nothing all summer. But for me, nothing is

Knitting nonstop (por supuesto)

Reading at a similar rate until I get into

Writing fiction which may not be very good but still thrills me to death.

Not to mention doing all the stuff that is wholly insignificant in the scheme of things but good fun for me because I don't get to do any of it during the school year.

So for the remainder of the summer, you can expect to see exuberant accounts of nothing. I hope some of them will be sufficiently entertaining to provoke a comment or two, because I love comments. They're like little miniblogs in and of themselves.

Total Denial Reigns

Is it really a week since I blogged last? It doesn't seem like it was that long ago. Wait. It wasn't--I know for absolute certian that I blogged on Tuesday. And today is Saturday. I don't know how that works, if it works, but I can't cudgel my poor brain into pondering it.



Icarus (pictured here on my filing cabinet) is two rows short of the transition to chart 2, but I have been siezed by a burning desire to knit every inch of the yarn in my stash (except some pink stuff that I think I'll drop off at my LYS) into socks and bags and washcloths and strange little critters. It's bad.

And yes, I realize that that picture is slightly crooked. I was in a hurry. If you *must* have perfectly straight and unique photos, you will simply have to wait. I'm very busy avoiding writing my final essay on the Wari and Tiwanaku and the Inkas (quien les odio).

Inexplicable

Back at the end of March, Stephanie Pearl-McPhee sent out a call to knitters, asking them to engage in one day of inexplicable knitter behavior. Her readers responded exuberantly, and I can only imagine how perplexed the non-knitting denizens of their respective cities were.

The day for inexplicable knitting fell on a Tuesday, a school day, and even if I thought I could get away with skipping all my classes that day, I would've been certifiable if I thought I could a) get away with ignoring all the ancillary homework and b) starting a new project. But I am all for the idea. Ordinarily cool people can be unexpectedly narrow-minded when it comes to knitting, and one of my admittedly vindictive pleasures is shaking up their idea of The Way the World Works. It's the nature of the experiment, it's the patterns of my temperament.

Ennyway, I was standing at my bus stop this past Tuesday, working on the Icarus and musing on the two presentations I had to give that day. It was rush hour, and this bus stop is along one of the main thoroughfares, so there were quite a few cars out. About five minutes went by before I noticed how many of the drivers were staring. Blatantly. I was on a purl row, so I took my eyes off my knitting to stare back (being at a bus stop liberates one from many social norms). One burly bearded guy in a pickup with his son literally turned his head to gawk as he drove past. All these people weren't looking at me, per se. They were looking at the Icarus.

Good for them, I thought. A little culture shock before work does one good.

Skip ahead to Thursday. One of the grad students let everyone into the classroom early (it's kept locked to keep people from making off with the osteological collection), so I pulled out the Icarus and got to work. Without realizing, I spaced out, gazing deeply into empty space while I tried to figure out how I was going to organize my afternoon. A voice at the edge of my consciousness pulled me back in, and I looked over to find both the professors, two grad students, and the guy at my table staring, at the Icarus of course. I had a deer in the headlights moment, awkwardly fielding the usual queries--it's a shawl, I don't know how long it will take to make, etc. "That's impressive," one professor said. Ye gods. The man pulls conclusions about population histories out of 64-dimensional space, and the So-Easy-It's-Boring Icarus is impressive?

When half the Andean Archaeology class began to ooh, I felt rather resigned. Being the bearer of beneficial culture shock is all well and good, but it was beginning to cut into my knitting time. It's going to be a shawl, no it's not hard, feel how soft the yarn is. I was buoyed up by the fact that some of these people actually knew how to knit, and one had astutely noticed the subtle color gradients that kettle-dyed Malabrigo is famous for. Then she asked if I was using different balls of yarn to get that effect. I cringed inwardly, thinking of the way randomly switching from color to color, Fair Isle OR Instarsia style, would compromise the structure of lace, unraveling all into the holes, not to mention making the back side look like a knotty mess.

But then I had a total anthro moment. Knitting is just as foreign to most modern people as Egypt to the Victorians or South America to the conquistadores, and they can react to it with just as much ethnocentrism. As a firm believer in cultural relativity, I feel that this needs remedying. So for all its setbacks, I'll keep KIPping. That everyone who sees me is going to run out and become a knitter is too much to hope, and anyway, it's beside the point. The point is to understand knitting for what it is and knitters for who they are. And maybe one day, in a Utopian future, knitting will cease being seen as something straight out of a curiousity cabinet, and it will take a whole cadre of knitters running around with cameras and half-completed socks to really shake things up.

Happy Earth Day

My university surprised me: usually every day with a cause results in an onslaught of supporters and opposition on the campus, with everybody shouting, waving signs, and thrusting clipboards at you. There was none of that today--not even a bleak documentary scheduled to show on the big mall after sunset. I was rawther surprised, but I can't complain; people with clipboards are to be avoided at all costs.

My contributions to the planet:

I took the bus to school...

Took class notes on recycled paper...

Ate my organic peanut butter sandwich I had packed in a little box (plastic, por desgracia)...

Recycled my Starbucks cup...

And took the bus home.

The Icarus is not the world's best blog project. It looks like a dead woollen jellyfish the entire time it's on the needles, which is usually considerable. Here are a few notes on this particular rendition:

I bought three skeins this time, not two, so we should avoid any unpleasantness
The color is "Polar Morn," which is more in keeping with the color shown in the magazine.

And yes, this is another pictureless post. If you want to see pictures, check out what Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's up to.

Bad Blogger

Quanto lo siento. I think I've just broken about every rule known to blogdom. I subjected you to unsolicited griping, I got off topic, and then I disappeared.

(In case you were perplexed by the picture, Skalbagge is a stuffed pillbug, one of my growing collection of Ikea creatures. Its mouth unzips to hold pajamas or whatever strikes las hermanitas' fancy.)

The carpet is gone, the tile is in, and we are beginning to put the house back together again.



I survived my tests, thanks in large part to the cookies my History of English teacher provided. By the last one, though, I was starting to get a little punchy. I was actually doodling in the margins of my test. I don't know what got into me. I'm not a doodler, and I can't draw to save my life. Maybe it was the pen. That particular professor makes us do our tests in pen, and I must say, I do love gel ink. Whatever the cause, I hope the TA finds the little pictures of tarsier skulls and rockets and whatever else I put on there (I don't even remember) endearing rather than distressing.

Anyway. Knitting. I swear, I really and truly have been knitting. What I've been knitting is really proof of the way my mind bends:



Yes, it's another Icarus, in more Malabrigo. Doesn't anyone else knit lace to unwind? If you check out the Icarus knitalong, every other post contains a comment askance about how boring knitting the body is. Maybe to the knitter in a better frame of mind, it is. For me, nothing is more calming than those orderly quills of stockinette. I memorized the pattern working on Hermanita's Firebird, and so now, I can pull it out in class, in between class, or while reading



and zip through a row to keep from going right off the deep end.

This weekend, I have a feeling I'll get a lot of knitting done. I have two presentations, due Tuesday, to finish. One is on interproximal grooves, and the other is on the Spanish conquest. Given a choice, I'd do the former twice and say to heck with the latter. I mean, honestly. Grooves in harmless little teeth or the bloody initiation of three centuries of genocide, cultural destruction, and oppresion--do you really even have to think about that one?