knit and tonic

Sneaking a Peek

(First, a picture to prove that they get along.)

The other thing on my mind: When certain projects begin to get a little mysterious or slightly tiresome because it doesn't yet resemble what you picture will be the outcome and you begin to wonder how it's going to turn out, do what I do: Block it before it's time.

If you block it before its time, you can literally see into the future. Of course, this particular technique, if you can call it a technique, won't work for many things you knit in pieces like some sweaters or whatnot, but the thing is, you can certainly pre-block items like this table runner or scarves or lace items (unless you are a hard-core lace knitter and must use those teeny tiny lace blocker needle wires that I can't even begin to wrap my mind around), but if the item is relatively straightforward, I say, go for it.

But what is blocking, anyway, and are there certain rules we can follow, all of the time?

In a few words: Who knows? And Nope.

I knitted for a couple years before I finally could say to others: "Block as necessary or desired." Truth is, blocking for one person isn't necessarily what blocking is for the next person. Blocking is what you want it to be, really, and you need not be worried about what it is, unless you don't understand what the fiber you are working with can withstand and how it behaves under certain conditions.

Take, for example, this hemp that I'm using for Lisa Shobana Mason's Celebration Table Runner (see sidebar for more info). This is hemp, so really, the sky is the limit when it comes to blocking. If you are mid-project like I am at the moment and cannot wait to see how it will turn out, either keep it on the needles and pre-block like I did today with a mighty steamer or place it on a holder of some type and go for it. When I say "go for it, I mean go for it. Hemp can take just about any type of treatment, including a hot wash in the washer and even a nice tumble dry. But if your work is still on the needles, I'd take the high route and steam it like I did today just to be safe.

If you're using a 100 percent wool, washable or not, for your project, I'd let the semi-finished or finished item soak in some wool-friendly wash and some cool water for a few minutes and then roll it in a towel and lay it flat to dry. Or steam it lightly, instead, which is my preferred method for blocking (but not for laundering). If it's cotton, I'd give it the rough treatment, meaning go ahead and give it the full-on hot steamer or a warm bath and a spin in the washer and then some flat drying. Just make sure that whatever you do, you have it on needles that can withstand the treatment, too, or place the unfinished piece on a plastic holder or something like that. I will say, however, that you shouldn't tell any knitting mavens what you are doing. They might call you out, or worse, ban you from some sort of knitting circle. (And they will also tell you that the stitches on the holder will be looser than the other rows below it, etc., etc., but if you are careful not to get them wet and exclude them from the blocking, everything should turn out alright--but only if you are steaming it or wetting it lightly. Obviously, placing it in the washer will get everything wet.)

Just know that if you are working your knitted item in pieces, you'll have to give the same treatment to all the other pieces before seaming, because the blocking process might make it more difficult to piece the thing together when you're all done.

My Celebration Table Runner is coming along nicely, now that I've blocked my progress! It's so much fun to sneak a peek!

Still Saying Stupid Stuff to the Chiropractor

It's always so easy for me to think back about the days when all we had was a dial telephone and the type of TV you'd have to get up off your couch to turn the channel. So I sit here and think about this junk and I'm listening to, of all people, Peter Frampton (I wore out two, two-vinyl album sets of "Peter Frampton Comes Alive" back in the day because I played it so much), and recalling how I lay there on the table just a few days ago while I said to my chiropractor, as he stuck his thumb in my hip like he did the other day and raising my leg up into the air: "You know, I'd much rather have a gal clean my teeth rather than a guy, especially a good looking one."

So as he held my leg up there in the air and I grunted a bit, he looked up to the ceiling, thinking about what I said and he replied: "I know exactly what you are talking about; I'd rather have a gal clean my teeth, too, and I don't care if she is young, old, good looking or bad, or so-so. Come to think of it, either which way, I'd rather a woman clean my teeth rather than a man. There's just something about it and I can't put my finger on it, but I'd feel weird if it were a guy.'"

"Yeah, And it's not that a man can't clean my teeth just as well as a woman!" I exclaimed, "It's that I don't want a guy to see whatever plaque I've been missing, or something to that effect! In fact, last time I was at the dentist, a guy in a white coat called my name and escorted me into one of the rooms. I nearly fainted from fear that he'd see inside my mouth but thankfully he was just a front-office person."

"I hear you!" he said, grabbing my other leg while I moaned, "So what about the dentist? Do you want your dentist to be a woman or a man?"

"A man! But not a good looking one! I tell you what, I went to new doc for a root canal awhile back, and in walked the exact replica of that soccer player, Beckham, you know, the guy who's married to Posh. I nearly pooped in misery. I was expecting Grandpa Moses and what do I get? David Beckham, drilling into my stinky tooth and asking me if I've had any swelling in my gums lately."

Then tonight, I asked HWWV about the time he had to visit a doctor for a "private" condition and asked him if he'd rather have a woman or a man check him out. He said it didn't matter either way to him, even if she were, you know, Charlize Theron or maybe Jennifer Aniston.

Sheesh.

Someone isn't as neurotic as he should be.

BTW: My sister and her husband bought their first house and I'm so happy, happy. Check out the views and tell her congratulations. They saved $$$$ for years and years to afford this and I'm thrilled. Next thing, we'll finally be able to unload Girlfriend's old crib on them.

And on Yarn News: There isn't any. (Turns out, I could have a herniated disc in my back; that's why there is so much talk about my doc appointments. I'll get back to the yarn soon, I promise. I just can't sit for long periods right now.)

I Can Only Hope

HWWV, Mister Know-It-All, told me that the pics we took a couple hours ago of the socks I just knit and my new Fatbaby's were slightly marred by my Ballet Fingers. He said that the angle of my fingers was too formal with all the other stuff. That the picture seemed forced, what with the formality of the fingers, etc. etc. etc. (Stick spoon down throat about now for effect and let's all join along in screaming "At least they weren't Spirit Fingers!")

Listen, friends, these Ballet Fingers didn't come easy, what with all the years of "mom-required" Modern Dance lessons (mom was a fan of Twyla Tharp) and pottery classes at the park and rec. And yes, I've been called out by a yoga teacher or two. At least two of them have looked at my hands and said: "This isn't a ballet class! We're doing yoga! Point your body and fingers to the sky like you mean it! (or something to that effect), and then, of course, you might remember me talking about the time I was kicked out of Salsa class when the teacher called me out for sashaying when I was supposed to keep my upper body erect. She called me out about five times before my last moment there in the almost empty gym (I think there were four couples, the teacher, and a bad tape deck). I whispered to HWWV that I thought it was perfectly fine to sashay because life is too short not to. And so we left and danced in our living room instead.

Which reminds me why some days I wonder why I feel like I don't fit in with the knitting world. There, I said it. I don't feel like I fit in. I go to a yarn store and talk about something I'm knitting in the round, and someone almost always chimes in: I need some seams! I need structure!

Or I ask for two circulars in the same size and they ask what for? I say, I want to knit in the round, make some socks, have an extra circular for working a sleeve in the round, yadda yadda yadda, and then someone will invariably spout out: "You know, they make double pointed needles for that sort of thing."

But I don't want to knit pieces. I want to knit in the round or in one piece. If I need to shore something up, who says I can't just pick up stitches and knit from wherever and put some bias tape on the seam later for a little stability? Who says that I have to do things a certain way? It's my knitting. If I want to do it my way, who has a say? And if you want to knit in pieces, who says it's not okay?

Really and truly, I've spent a lot of time at the Home Depot and Lowe's or whatever DIY Store and I can't, for the life of me, remember the last time I heard a clump of lumber guys gang up on a weekend carpenter about their choice of wood glue or favorite wood working technique.

I want to sashay during Salsa and I want to crack a joke in church and I want to fake a limp for my chiropractor. Plus, I want to tell everyone about a conversation I had with friend who happens to be deaf and who is married to a man who is also deaf without feeling guilty because I'm so sick of being politically correct, so here it goes:

She said: "I have a really sweet dog; he's such a wonderful companion."

And I said: "Wow, that's great, and it must be nice to have a dog who can come get you when someone knocks at the door or when the phone rings,"

Then she said: "What? Are you kidding? That dog can't hear a thing."

I feel so much better now.

Socks are the DK weight Avery Allison Yarns hand-dyed superwash in Herb and Iris. I cranked this pair out in a day or two on size 4 needles (I could have gone with 5's). Very cool.

About a Different Type of Second Sock Syndrome

Since I'm not a fan of the hyperbole, I'll just tell it straight: I'm this far away from purchasing a few pair of huge oven mitts and wearing them full time from today until April 14th a la George Castanza. (For those of you not in the know, George Castanza was on Seinfield and he got a hand modeling gig. He was so worried his hands would get hurt before a shoot that he started to wear oven mitts wherever he went.)

So, the oven mitts: My hands are so dry, and I'm not exaggerating, no matter how much salve I slather on, I still have hangnails and bumps and scratches and all manner of ugly things on them that I'm beginning to wonder if they'll have to hire a stunt knitter to stand in for me when I do that Knitting Daily TV show in April.

What to do? What to do? First, I have a couple hunks of a thumb missing due to some very unfortunate wart surgery I had years ago. I mean, the doctor, he literally removed one side of my thumb and part of the tip. Although you can't really tell it has been shortened unless I hold the two of my thumbs side by side (when a party is slow, I always pull out my thumbs for show and tell to liven things up), the memory of the whole debacle sometimes hits me like one of those ammonia carbonate things that seem to be taped up on every doctor's office wall. Come to think of it, the doctor who got carried away on my thumb had to snap one and wave it under my nose for fear I'd expire.

Second, for years, I've harbored a deep-seated resentment toward a particular in-law who claimed the water in California made her hands bleed. And now, as I face a session of hand close-ups, I'm beginning to wonder if she had a point and wasn't avoiding doing the dishes or touching anything in the kitchen after all.

Anyway.

BTW: I got about two seconds' worth of the Spring cleaning bug and decided to finally fish out all my singleton hand knit socks sprinkled throughout my two laundry baskets (I don't go down to the bottom that often to make sure I am cleaning a pair together) and, well, just look at them. I secretly knew they were all hidden there, but it wasn't until today that I felt awful for pretending I didn't have any hand-knit socks left to wear when I knew the real truth deep down, that I am too lazy to do laundry correctly.

Thing is, only half of my problem is solved: They've been in there for so long, I can't remember which ones are superwash and which ones aren't. I guess I'll have to hand wash all of them from now on.

P.S. I have a crappy camera.

One of the Reasons I Love My Girl (and Knitting for Her) . . .

She's not afraid to wear more than one hand-knit item at a time.

Everyday, after school and after a snack and homework, she asks me if she can go change. I always say "yes," (she wears a uniform to school), but many times I shout after her: "don't wear anything precious! Don't put on a dress with crinoline! No lacy tights, please! "Wear something casual!" "It's only two and a half hours to bed time!"

Today, this is what she came downstairs wearing.
From bottom to top, clockwise:

- My favorite boots (they are very cool and I wear them every day, even when it is hot: the Ariat Fatbaby; find them at Zappos.com; they come in funky color combos but I suggest something utterly satisfying like a dopey brown so when you get mud on them or step on poop you won't notice.) They are a real hit with some of those tighter "Emo" jeans with the skinny-ish legs. Somehow the boots elevate my "Olderish-Gal-and-I'm-Trying-to-Fool-You" Look in just the right way. I think they elongate my legs but I could be completely off base.

- White cabled tights from Target

-A skirt from her mama (grandma), something that is way, way too, too, but whatever.

-The Short Snort Girlfriend's Tank (free pattern on my sidebar). It still fits!

- A scarf I knit out of yarn from a friend living in Hawaii. It is Japanese and I can't remember exactly what it is. The scarf is Brioche stitch and the yarn is similar to Make Make.

-And then, of course, a poncho (you can only see the hood part because, thankfully, she discovered it's too warm to wear all the items at once) out of a Sirdar popcorn/pebbly acrylic blend (meaning 50% acrylic and 50% polyester, 100% funky cool to a little girl's sensibility) from a pattern by Knitting Pure and Simple. It's a kid's poncho pattern, and I swear, I've knit at least five of them in the past three or so years.

-Fierce attitude that someone like me needs to get a clue about, like soon.

A New Word or Phrase for You

Now, if I could sing, I would sing Mariachi, all soulful and whatnot. That's what I would sing. Seriously. That's what I would sing. Never mind I don't really know Spanish, although come to think of it, our new gardener Arturo gave me a great compliment the other day along with a wink when he said, "you understand my language, don't you?" and I said "Si."

Then, instead of Arturo, George showed up and proceeded to speak to me in Spanish only and my eyes crossed. Seems I must be a great salesperson because Arturo felt his non-English speaking nephew could come to my house in his place. Worse, at one point, I told George (pronounced "HorHay" if you're in the know), that my "Esposa" would fix the sprinkler, so he didn't need to. Then, he hopped up and looked at me strangely. My error! I think I said "my wife" (esposa) instead of "my husband" (esposo) and it must have hit him: "No wonder she doesn't share what I thought was her husband's last name! It must be that Wendy has a wife or girlfriend hiding upstairs somewhere and that cool looking Chinese guy with the long hair who has handed me a check or two with a different last name than hers must be a renter! Oh Si! Buena! or, Ella besa a las ninas!"

Maybe I should just keep the whole charade going. That will assure that Arturo and George will be here every Wednesday without fail. I'll be sure to wear a lot of lipstick, too.

Today was our second week of days with an extra hour of light. To celebrate, we went to a local farm and picked vegetables. A lot of beets and some escarole, artichokes, avocados and four strawberries (they weren't quite ripe yet). Our neighbor was there, picking vegetables, too, and she's really cool, except she took me off guard when she remarked that Rock-o must be a really old guy due to his sprinkling of gray hair. HWWV said, "no, he's only 10 months old. He was born like that." And she said, "You adopted him. They probably gave you an old dog. I know a gray hair when I see it."

I guess we'll never know. (Kinda like the time we rescued a male cat and named him "Vincenzo," and then, after Vinnie gave birth under HWWV's bed, we renamed him "Lois." I guess you never really do know. Her girls were named Myrtle and Gwen.)

BTW: I have to confess I wonder why people talk about yarn and say things like they "fondle" yarn or "manhandle" it or "grab" it, or do all other manner of things to yarn. What's up with that, folks? Why oh why all that nasty nasty? I like yarn as much or more than anyone else, but when I hear that someone has been rubbing it or sniffing it or squeezing it, or refers to it as yarn Pr0n, I have to confess my eggs dry up a little bit. It's just so cheesy to me.

The yarn up top represents the three colors I chose for a garment I'm designing for Blue Sky Alpacas with their new Skinny Cotton, something I'll be talking about on a new-ish TV show called "Knitting Daily TV." (The free pattern will be available at Interweave.com.) Its a girl's tank and this particular yarn is perfect for it. Amazing stuff, and the colors are fantastic. I would say, "yummy" out loud, even though the colors really are, but I can't bring myself to actually say the word, "yummy," (it sort of falls into the category of "grapple," "fondle," and "squeeze," if you ask me).

Let's be official and just say: The sh*t, oops, I mean, "fraber*" is amazing; it looks a triple dip, ya'll!

*I made up "fraber." I guess I was just hoping it'll sound nasty enough without sounding too cheesy.

Getting Older and Dumber

I used to go to a chiropractor who had won an Olympic medal for swimming. I mean, it was difficult not to notice, what with all those pictures of him in his Speedo splashed all over the joint. The gals in the waiting room (and there were always lots of them) would sort of sit there and size each other up. Not sure why, but I always suspected there was a bit of competition going on for a doctor's pet. He was good looking as all get out, but his being several years old than me, I never gave any of that stuff a second thought.

Oh, the times have changed.

As I lay there on the table this morning with my left leg up on my new and very young chiropractor's shoulder, his body pressing toward me and his thumb jabbing into my thigh crease, the only thing I could think to say was: "So! Do some of your patients grunt and groan a lot?"

And then I made the situation worse: "Come to think of it, heh, there was this old guy at the yoga place the the other day. He moaned throughout the entire practice, I mean he really grunted like, loud, you know? So I kept on trying to catch the instructor's eye, hoping the two of us could get a private giggle about the Groaner.  All practice long, whenever he'd let one rip, I'd give her a wink on the down-low, but she never responded! Then, after class, I Iooked on over and saw her and the Groaner embracing. Turns out, they're pals. Heh heh. The Groaner and the instructor were friends! Isn't that a hoot?"

I tell you what, the older I get, the dumber I get.

And speaking of even dumber: Remember how I complained of hip pain about a year ago? Being older and dumber, I kept on sitting with bad posture while knitting and working on the book in spite of the pain. Now that I finally dragged myself to the doctor we're discovering how much damage I have done. At this point, I can't work out (believe me, I'll probably drag myself back to the gym before I get the official "yes" from the doc), I can't do yoga; I can't even walk except for a limp-ridden stroll around the block once a day. Friends: When knitting, do yourself a favor and sit correctly. Take it from me, "Mrs. Piriformis Syndrome-Nerve Damage-Older and Dumber," if you sit for long periods of time knitting, get up, walk around, and sit back down, properly.

But here's a good thing: DK weight Premium Hand Dyed Yarn from Avery Allison Yarns. It's new and it'll knit up super quick on size 5-7 needles into some nifty socks. I think I'll do stripes with these two colorways, Herb and Iris. Very, very cool. (They're having a special, free shipping with orders over $60.00 until March 21st.)

When the Time Change Changes You

The Time Change changes us. We live for afternoons out of doors. We live for music that bugs the neighbors (well, at least the one with too much time on her hands, the one on the right). A bit of beer on the terrace. A gin and tonic with ice that's clear. You have to get it from the supermarket. I learned this from a fabulous LYS frequenter who lamented her new fridge that made ice that was white. After many complaints and a few conversations with an associate at the local Bevmo, she discovered that she was returning her refrigerators for no good reason. The ice that's totally clear can only come from a different source, like a liquor store. We verified this whole thing today because our ice maker has been on the fritz for a week. HMMW finally bought some ice from the local grocery and boy oh boy, if I had access to this type of ice on a more frequent basis, you'd have to buy a red wagon to wheel me from the kitchen to the backyard, and then out the front door and to the park and back for fear I'd trip from all the cocktails with all that clear ice swimming around so alluring-like.

Anyway.

Time changed today and in our home, it's a time for celebration.

We woke up early. We flew kites. We ate some burritos. We ripped out our entire herb bed and replanted. HWWV broke out a cigar and I finished it. I also worked on my Celebration Table Runner. 

I suggest that you don't take on any hemp leftovers should I post it on a de-stashing event. It will most certainly stink.

BTW: Recently, I read a forum comment about a pattern I designed. It said something to the effect: "Again, Wendy has designed a pattern for Wendy and Wendy only. You know, the girl who works out every day and has really low body fat."

Hah! As if.

For a minute, that comment bugged me, but now it doesn't. You know why? . .

Look up, look up and around, you knitters! There are all types and manner of patterns around you! There are patterns for the dumpy, there are patterns for the frumpy. There are patterns for the sexy, sexless, surly and burly. There are patterns for those who count stitches and calculate their gauge every second row. There are patterns for those who knit in the round. There are patterns for those who don't care if the outcome is good as long as their skillz are well presented. You want a tent? Knit it! You want a tank? Knit it! You want a bathing suit? Crochet it! You want a bra? Don't knit it; buy it! You want something that flatters? Look in the mirror, and then, and only then decide what is right!

There are patterns for everyone.

So what's up with the fact that I knit sexy?

Word.

(Enjoy your new afternoon/evening sunlight.)

I'm Not a Prude

Girlfriend's Quicko-Cheapo Drive-Thru sweater, thank goodness, still fits. When you live in the warmer climes, you always wonder if what you knit will be used "enough" or if the work you put into it will pay off. I guess, much of the time, what we knit doesn't really get put to good use, anyway, be it because we have higher hopes than what is realistic or if what we knit just doesn't look right or doesn't fit or scratches or itches or simply doesn't work out.

Do you feel bad when someone doesn't wear what you knit for them?

(Heck, I don't feel bad. Why? I guess it's because I don't wear what I knit for myself most of the time, anyway, so why should I pass the expectation onto some unsuspecting knit-wear victim?)

That is not to say that what we knit for others isn't special. It's just that what we knit for others isn't always expected or ordered and well, if they don't wear it, so be it. Ask for it back and felt it into a pillow for Aunt Violet or Uncle Chet or your new puppy.

The other thought I have today is I wonder why it is that so many people in online forums refer to their breasts as "The Girls."

Do men refer to their parts as "The Boys," or worse: "The Singleton and the Twins"? And if they did, wouldn't you just barf?

Beyond that, here is what I've been working on and part of the reason my posts have been sporadic. Talk about "The Girls." Think it but don't say it, please. The pattern will be available from Stitch Diva Studios very soon. In the pattern, I tell you how to make a more modest version and include instructions for short sleeves.

EDITED TO ADD: The pattern here is called Labyrinth and the yarn I used is the Tilli Tomas Fil de la Mer, which is a plied seacell and silk blend.

Random Notebook Musings, Weekend B-Side Edition

HWWV is working today (He's doing a fancy-schmancy wedding in Beverly Hills: He should come home with a few good stories. My favorite one he told recently has something to do with getting stuck in the middle of a huge crowd doing a frenzied hora that nearly squished him to death along with a very expensive rented camera), so I am sitting here looking through another one of my little notebooks. This one I fished out of my workout bag. It is nearly full and although I think I have blogged about nearly everything in it by this time, there are a few of what I guess we could call "B-Side" notations.

Some time last year I wrote:

I wish they made jeans pre-filled with underpants kind of like those tank tops with shelf bras.

How to fight boredom at the gym. Today's assignment, count how many people have mismatched socks. First one spotted: Me.

Rumored female impersonator sure looks all man to me except for the French manicure part.

Four guys at the gym today with knit caps in 80 degree heat and none of them have dropped dead, even the guy playing air drums on the elliptical trainer hasn't dropped dead.

Design Idea: Make a similar swimsuit cover that's in the book, but more like a kimono. Probably not a good idea to do it in that shrimp yarn.

Yeah, I know. Boring stuff. I guess that is why none of it made it into a post.

Beyond that, I managed to make deadline on a few projects so I'm rewarding myself by working on the Celebration Table Runner from Yarnplay at Home (see left sidebar for a link). There isn't much to show at the moment, but boy, I sure do love working with that hemp.

BTW: Rock-O and Chuck are buds. Plus, The Bunny has already put him in his place. So, except for the fact that this guy is the fastest pooper in the West (He can literally poop in about a half second flat, so house breaking him is going to be a chore), all in all, things are going smoothly.