Why I Knit

Ten years ago, I didn't know how to knit. I looked at the yarn that I saw in Walmart or a craft store and didn't really give it a second thought. But a friend asked if I would take a beginning knitting class with her, so I carefully selected a skein of hideous variegated Red Heart and some shiny aluminum needles and cast on for a scarf. Eventually I made a sweater for a bear out of Sugar'n Cream cotton . . . and then I stopped.

I have no clue why I stopped. I just did. Stopped for about two years. Stopped to the point that I forgot how to purl. Stopped and didn't finish an equally hideous scarf made out of lilac wool and white fun fur. But eventually, there was a need to pick up the needles again and create something for someone special. My sister, Bridget, was pregnant with Emma, and I wanted to make her a sweater. So, with the help of Debbie Stoller's Stitch 'n Bitch, I figured out how to purl again. And I never stopped.

So, why do I knit? That answer is evolving. It gives me something to do. It's been linked to memory retention. It's portable. It makes me think. It allows me to control something. It allows me to fly without Valium or any alcohol (fine, less alcohol). It calms me down. It gives me something to do. It takes my mind off of things. It's better than crack . . . at least I'm 99% sure it's better than crack.

Last weekend, I attended Vogue Knitting Live! in New York City with a friend. I had the opportunity to take classes from people whose knitting I have admired for ages. Got to relish in a full on girl-crush (Clara Parkes, I adore you . . . seriously, let me buy you a drink!) Listened to a lecture from the person who got those needles back in my hand. Bought my own Valentine's Day presents. Suggested to Dave that he buy me a sheep. Took some advice from the aforementioned fiber pusher, Ms. Parkes, and bought a bag of Romney to test out a spindle. Heard Alice Starmore speak and was inspired to try one of her designs.

So, again, why do I knit? I just do. I don't need a damn reason.

 
Effortless Cardigan by Hannah Fettig
Yarn: Cascade 220 in Pacific Blue
Needles: 8 (maybe 9) . . . I can't remember
Modifications: none other than where I messed up on the sleeve decreases
Notes: I wanted a slouchy, throw it over jeans and go to the store, kind of sweater. And this is it. It's easy to wear, and this might be the warmest sweater ever. I predict that it won't make it upstairs this winter as I'll wear it as a defacto robe until mid-May. I had been knitting on this for a while since it was stockinette for ages and had allowed the cardi to languish on the needles for way too long. But having the VK Live! deadline looming forced me to finish it so that I could wear something knit at a knitting convention (shocking . . . wearing something I knit at a knitting convention). Because of the construction, it swings open, so I have a shawl pin to keep it closed. And you know what? It's damn near perfect.

xo,
Jill

Sea Change

One of my favorite Beck album's is the under appreciated Sea Change. It's different than his other works with a moody, more introspective sound than his previous endeavors. There's a lack of sampling that you might have come to expect from Odelay or Mellow Gold; even the lyrics are different. I guess I took to this album because when it was released in 2002, I was going through a sea change myself: transitioning from a learner to a teacher*.

If you've noticed that the blog header is different, then I would say that your eye sight is fairly good. Erika has been blogging fairly regularly on her site, so I think it's safe to say that this is a one woman gig over here. That being said, I decided that something new was in order. I toyed with a new blog. Or a Tumblr site. Or just giving it up altogether. But I just decided that a name change was all it would take.

It was supposed to be a hat . . . now it's waiting to figure out its true destiny

So, this is Unraveling This Life . . . a little knitting, a little life, a little photography. Basically anything that strikes my damn fancy. So if you get a whole post that extols the virtues of spending a whole week having only to wash forks and coffee cups, it's pretty much because I wanted to.

Cheers,
Jill

* It probably helped that I first heard its amazing single, "Lost Cause," sitting in the student center at ESU studying for my first final in about 11 years. 

A Simple Note of Thanks

It's been a weird few days here. We got back from visiting Dave's parents in Cambridge on Sunday night. Monday, I had to be at work for most of the day working on some curriculum writing for the digital world (that would be for a cyber-school). It's a whole new beast, and it honestly made my head hurt at one point. However, the real fun was saved for Tuesday. Seems Dave's on-again-off-again "love affair" with gout was on-again . . . only it decided that their old meeting place - the big toe - wasn't painful enough so it picked a new place - the middle of his foot.

So, a quick trip to the doctor's to confirm that this new painful spot was the same old gout meant a trip to the pharmacy and the realization that the previous meds were no longer on the market since the drug companies had done a new study to "improve" them. At least his doctor gave him some sweet painkillers to take the sting out of that news.

By this morning, he was feeling much better but still not capable of walking or going to work. We spent most of the day reading, watching dumb movies, and basically doing absolutely nothing. But the mail brought the most welcome sight in a long time. A simple note of thanks from a woman I never met before and probably never will again.

Veronica was one of my fellow passengers stranded in Austin, Texas, after Continental decided to dump our asses there when a flight attendant called out sick. I guess getting you as far as Austin in a state the size of Texas was a pretty big accomplishment. But at midnight, it seemed like a death sentence. However, I overheard Veronica talking to another woman (her name wound up being Pam, which I learned after she was heaving her bags in the trunk of my rental car) about sharing a ride to San Antonio. My normal shy side took a backseat, and I volunteered to drive them to San Antonio because a) I had no idea where I was going, b) I needed people to keep me awake, and c) there was no sense in three people driving when one would suffice. Needless to say, we picked up another Continental cast-off (Addeline) at the rental car desk, the ride went very smoothly, and no one was harmed in their attempts to make it to San Antonio. Pam and Addeline each chipped in with some cash, but Veronica said she would mail me some. So . . . I gave her my address, never intending to hear from her, wished the ladies well, and went on my merry way to the Riverwalk where a soft, comfy bed and my husband were waiting.

But today, I got that thank you note from Veronica saying that she hadn't forgotten my generosity and was sorry for not writing earlier but things had gotten crazy. She also included $40 in the card, which was a fraction of the cost of a one-way rental. However, her generosity was the one that should be applauded. She was an excellent navigator and never once stopped chatting since sleep was something that neither of us had encountered for close to 24 hours. So for that . . . thank you, Veronica! Besides, that $40 will buy me enough yarn at the Fourth of July sale to make a new sweater.

- Jill

PS - Finished Beautiful Creatures this evening. It was pretty good . . . I'll summarize it later this week. 

Admitting Defeat . . . What? It Can Happen!

Yesterday, I did something that I've never done before. Before you get all, "Whoooooo . . . true confession time!" it's really not that salacious. I simply took a sweater that I had maybe three inches left to go in a sleeve and carefully picked out the cast off end, attached it to the ball winder, and began cranking. In a nutshell, I frogged a sweater. The thing is, I'd never given in to that feeling of defeat in the past and ripped anything out. Sure, there have been stops and starts in the past, but this sweater was something that I knew wouldn't work for me, and I liked the yarn better for something else.

January: Center of Attention

I had started a version of the Hey, Teach! sweater last summer, but I don't like cotton, so I knit it in Cascade 220. And I don't really like short sleeve sweaters, so I decided to follow the directions for a three-quarter length sweater. Two strikes that coupled with a rather inappropriate-for-me waist placement made for a sweater that was destined never to make it to light. But yet I knit on . . . through a confusing pattern, through enough modifications to strangle a cow, through a summer when I could have been working on things I really liked.

February: Reciprocation

But yesterday, I needed sweater quantity yarn to make a sweater (like you couldn't see that coming). More importantly, I needed an idiot proof pattern so that I could knit and A) watch movies both captioned and not; B) read; C) be a supportive passenger in the car; and D) not have to stress out about charts over. Enter the Effortless Cardigan. Pretty, easy-peasy, looks good with dress pants or jeans. Effortless might be the understatement.

March: Stripes Alive

I also gave up on the Skacel 20 Years of Knitting patterns. After the first one, I wasn't really taken by any of the patterns. Shelby benefited from the fingerless gloves (still have to make her sister a pair), Mom got the striped "WOW! These look just like Jaywalker with a purl row" socks, I kept the ones from January and April, and the ones from May are still on the needles (note: the yarn is garish, I don't care for the pattern, and the front an back don't match). So . . . I gave up. I'll finish the May pair eventually and probably the June pair because I bought the yarn, but let's face it: the whole point for knitting them was to enter into a contest. And I'll never win that contest.

April: Cranked

So, I quit that sweater yesterday, and today I might just drop out of an on-line class that I think might be too much for my skill set. And I can live with that.

May: Lacery

- Jill

PS - Tomorrow is Erika's birthday . . . you might want to wish her a happy birthday or make a bowl of Jeni's Splendid Ice Cream from the cookbook. And if you don't have the book yet, what is wrong with you?

When Life Gets In the Way

There was a time in my life when I believed that stress didn't exist. I even was dumb enough to say that to a group of people. I wasn't incredibly young; hell, I think I was in my mid-30s and Lord knows I had encountered my fair share of stressful situations: having children while still in college, finding out that one baby was really two, coming out of college in a recession, applying for Welfare . . . all pretty stressful. Still, I never really felt it.

But lately, stress is becoming a little more known in my life. Last year, several people commented, "You look like you've lost weight," which is always nice to hear. However, I knew it was coming from lack of eating properly. These days, I'll eat sometimes to stay awake if I am doing something that needs to get done . . . which isn't a good idea. Knitting has always provided a kind of stress relief for me. Even that, these days, is compounding the stress that I feel. The night before Thanksgiving, I decided that it was high time to finish one of my sweaters. I had plans to wear it to school the next week, and I knew that I needed to finish the sleeve . . . that's right, one little sleeve. I picked up the stitches but felt that something was wrong. See, on the other sleeve, I remembered the number configuration, and this sleeve was not the same. After some "heavy math" and questioning Dave about my calculations, I discovered that I had fucked up this sweater AGAIN. Seems that this time, instead of felting the damn thing, I put too few stitches on waste yarn for the sleeve. If you are a knitter, then you know that this type of thing is fixable by doing one thing: ripping it out. If you aren't a knitter, then think of something that you can't fix save for starting all over. Note that I said AGAIN. I won't bore you with the details, but you can read all about it here.

After a minute of dumb-founded confusion, I started crying. Dave came over and held my hand, telling me that it would be okay, but sometimes you just know. The Girls came back from a friend's house about that time. Later, they would tell Dave that they thought my father passed away. No, Grandpa is still kicking . . . but your mother is a knitting failure. I pulled out all of my easy knitting projects and decided to finish them since I needed that kind of "pick-me-up." I took the sweater to my Knit Night just to see what everyone thought. Pretty unanimous: rip the sucker and start over.

Honestly, if wool burned, I would have a pile of ashes right now instead of a bag full of shit.

Jill

Is it true love or just fall making me itchy?

Have you seen Twist Collective Fall 2010?

Two patterns are making me seriously consider a trip to the yarn store or at least to my basement.  But after not finishing a project in about a year, is this true love or infatuation?  Do I dare venture down the path of broken dreams called UFO Avenue?

I'll just look through my apple picking pictures again.  That's distracting.

"Picnik Show"

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Maybe not. A cozy cabled hoodie would look perfect in an orchard. Shit.

-Erika

SSK & K2Tog Are Back.

There was a time when I couldn't imagine not knitting one stitch in 24 hours.  How could I go all day & not push the needle through a loop?  How could I not wrap the wool around & pop it out?  But I felt this coldness coming.   I tried to avoid the chill because I truly love knitting.  I started new projects hoping they would reignite my passion.  Complicated cables, luscious yarns, beautiful end products.  But it was a losing battle.  My boredom won.  And I was forced to look at a sad pile of yarn.  Still I'd return to the yarn because knits & purls were a part of my everyday life.  And then one day, I was tired & didn't glance at my projects.  I felt a little guilty that day.  The next day, I reached for the project & laid it beside me on the couch.  But I didn't touch it.  And then those days began to stretch into weeks.  The guilt slid away & I became a woman who used to knit.

But yesterday, it happened.  I've flirted with knitting in the past couple weeks.  Warm stolen glances.  A stitch here & a purl there.   Remember the scene in Cast Away when Helen Hunt & Tom Hanks run to each other in the rain?  Yesterday, I ran to my knitting.  Not in the rain of course because I was using wool.  I fell into the couch & got lost in the charts of Cerisara.  I'd love to say that I'll have a new cardigan for Fall, but I'm not new to this game.  Take a peek at my basket of projects.  There are more half finished projects than I care to admit.  I've been forced to recognize that any romance flickers & fizzles.  I'm just hoping the next fizzle holds out until at least one project is completed.

-Erika
August Break

Not That I Would Doubt A Muppet

but maybe Kermit had it wrong. Sometimes, it's pretty damn easy being green. You can buy so much "green" crap today that you might lose sight of the fact that you don't actually need it. Seems like there is an organic product for everything (except for maybe nail polish remover). Despite our best efforts, however, there is one area where our family does not do so well at being green - two actually, but I'll save that dirty little secret for another day.

We have what we affectionately refer to as the "bag bag" in our kitchen: truly, a plastic bag filled with plastic bags. Dave remembers that they need to be taken into Wegmans or some other store for recycling, but then we forget to throw them in the car, and they spill out everywhere. I have even resorted to using them for packing boxes (cough, cough shipping presents to nieces and nephews) just to get rid of them. Solution? Buy those cute little reusable bags. Problem? Remember to take them with me. Repeat in a vicious, vicious cycle.

A bottle of wine, some cheese, maybe a baguette would look good in the bag

 

Enter summer vacation. I sat in front of the television - watching Pushing Daisies on DVD - and finished a knitting project: BYOB. The book that we are reading this summer for the Sit, Knit, and Read class is The Beach Street Knitting Society and Yarn Club, and Joann thought a tote would be a good idea. Miles and miles of seed stitch later (plus 12 episodes of fun albeit short lived television) the BYOB was complete.

I'm not sure if I'll be taking it to farmers' markets or toting the latest and greatest organic find from Target home. I do know that it holds about 30 plastic bags . . . thank god Dave didn't recycle them since I needed them for the photo.

Jill