TALE OF THE TEENY SOCK
A while back I worked for Bay Networks, before they were on the receiving end ofthe Nortelengulf-and-devour experience. Like most companies, Bay did many things right, but others with less precision. One of the things they did right was to insist that all sales and marketing employees actually know and have experience with the products they sold. As a proposal drone, I was sent off to the same training sessions as the sales engineers. Training was dense-pack: thorough, totally useful, informative, and lasted an entireweek. A long week. An interminable week. Did I mention that it took five solid 8-to-5 days?
For four days I sat in adank conference room watching two things – theoh-so-serious instructor and (through the door-side window) the traffic in the elevator lobby in front of the training room. On the opposite wall of the lobby from the conference roomwas a sailfish, stuffed and mounted on a trophy plaque. It was a handsome blue devil, gape-mouthed and arching mid-leap in fishy defiance, but like all long dead and dustythings – it never moved.
Late in the afternoon onDay #4 I had an inspiration. I went home that night and knit up a teeny gray and redsock. I stuffed it with a piece ripped from my business card. The next morning I got to class early, and slipped the thing into the sailfish’s mouth. The little toe and heel poking out of the fish’s mawmade it look like a tinyperson was being swallowed alive. Day #5 was infinitely more interesting as I watched people doing a double take as they passed by and noticed my addition.
I left the sock in place for the entire three years I worked at Bay/Nortel. Finally the time came for us to part ways. I went back to the fish’s building to retrieve my sock. Some people tried to stop me, as the display had become a building mascot.I had them remove the sock and reveal the business card fragment inside. There was my name, and I took my knitting.
The blue one I knit upas aKnitList membership badge for the ’97 Maryland Sheep & Wool Festival.It was however too small for that purpose, and no onenoticed that I was wearing it until I pointed it out.
Both of these were knit from the reinforcing yarn that came with Special Blauband. They’re both fully-fashioned toe-ups, using exactly the same figure-8 cast on, short-rowed heel and ribbed cuffs I use to make all of my more wearable socks. I used flat toothpicks to make them, although now in retrospect I probably could have used blunt needles intended for tapestry or needlepoint. Gauge on the gray is something like 14 spi, although it’s tough toestimate accurately. It measures about 2 (5.1 cm) inches from toe to heel, and 2 inches (5.1 cm) from heel to cuff. Little Blue is about 1.5inches (3.8 cm) from toe to heel, and about 1.75inches (4.4 cm)from heel to cuff.
NEEDLING AND NOODLING
Lo and behold! Yesterday I write about needle gauges, and today I receive a huge package in the mail from a friend of 20 years ago with whom I have recently reconnected.She sent me a stash of needles, collected over the years by a knitting friend of hers:
As you can see, I’ve used the gauge to sort them. On the right are metal needles in pairs. On the left are plastic, wood, Boye Balene andBakelite(?) straights. The center bottom are metal DPNs, and above are Balene and plastic DPNs. At the top are singlets – still useful but not in official pairs. About half of these needles aren’t of modern regulation size, but instead sit between sizes. I’mdelighted to have these, and intend on bestowing most of the plastic ones to local knitting groups that work with people in elder care homes, and giving away some of the metal ones to people I teach. Please don’t write to me in pursuit of the Bakelite or old Balene needles. Iintend on keeping those. (Hi, Ellen! And thanks again!)
Like QueerJoe, I’m in the What’s-Next doldrums. I’ve also got some Chest of Knitting HorrorsTM abandoned projects to revive, but they’re mostly in the storage cubby. I’m fragmented and unfocused on knitting right now because of the attendant hoopla surrounding the house acquisition/move. Starting the project from the blue Wool Crepe is just too much think-work for me to countenance at the moment.
I do have a quantity of Waterspun in assorted colors. There might be enough of it to do a small poncho for the Kindergartener. Maybe a doodle poncho, inspired by QJ’s Rosemary’s Baby blanket. Or maybe something else in concentric garter stripes, but using some narrow mosaic knitting patterns where the stripes meet.
Oops. I’m back into think mode again….
TRIUMPH + TRAGEDY
Just to underscore the point that the universe’s perversity prevents unalloyed joy, I report two positives and a negative.
TRIUMPH #1 – HOUSE SELLING: We were surprised to receive not only multiple offers on our current house, but an amazingly large number of multiple offers. Now naming base conditions, we go back to the herd and ask them to give us their best and final offer above those parameters. Apparently, all that cleaning was worth it.
TRIUMPH #2 – SUEDE T: I have completed all of the major pieces of my Suede T. Front, back and both sleeves are finished. I’ve sewn the shoulder seams and am now about to pick up the neckline stitches. I’d prefer to do the neckline in the round rather than as the pattern is written because I want to avoid a seam at one side of the neck. Again instead of the plain six rows of garter stitch, I’ll work eight rows that coordinate with the elongated stitch pattern I used at the body and sleeve hems. I’ll probably need to hide some scattered decreases in my in-the-round edging because it is wider than the original, and I want it to lay flat when worn.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t do this little bit over the weekend. Not only were we in exile from hearth, home, and computer in order to make way for the herd of house viewers; my stash including my needles is all still boxed up in the storage cubby. Providing traffic today isn’t too perturbed (I live in the greater Boston area, and the marathon has effects that ripple well past its rather limited corridor of location), I’m planning on raiding the cubby for supplies. Pictures will be posted as soon as I get the pieces put together. In the mean time, I’m helping out a friend by coming up with a pattern for a narrow novelty scarf knit from Berroco’s Zen, a ribbon yarn.
TRAGEDY – PET DEATH: Apparently the stress of molting was too much for poor little Crunchy/Fujitake. He’s gone to that Big Terrarium in the sky. The kids were upset to find the little critter out of his shell and sad to say – half eaten by his scavenging cage mate. We’re not sure if the other crab had an active part in the demise, or was just an opportunist. Stressed crabs sometimes do not survive molting, and it’s not unknown for a crab to attack another during that phase. We hadn’t removed the molter to an isolation cage because up until now, the two of them had happily co-existed through previous molts. So I’m feeling a little guilty about the whole thing. The remaining crab seems rather lonely now in spite of his snacking. They are social creatures (in a rather limited way). He’s nowwandering the cage turning over all the shells and cage furniture as if he was looking for his playmate. The kids are still sad but are recovering.
WORKING REPORT – SUEDE T AND THE HUSH OF WAITING
It’s spooky quiet here, waiting for the phone to ring to announce another round of house-viewers. Even our pets (such as they are) feel the stress of the moment.
The kids have two hermit crabs. They’ve named the crabs Punchy and Crunchy, (or Akebono and Fujitake, depending on whom you ask.) We’ve had one crab for almost three years now, and the other for almost two. Both have decided tomolt their old carapacesin the past ten days. Not just change into newshells, which they do withamusing frequency, but to shed their own hard parts. This leaves a little "ghost crab" of discarded claws and legsbeneath them, like a naked toddler standing on a pile of shed pajamas. Perhaps it was all the strangers schlepping through the house, perhaps it was just the season for it, either way the timing seems **suspicious**.We’ve posted a noteon the cage thatreads, "Vicious Attack Crabs. Do Not Tap Habitat."
Aside fromproving oursedentary crustaceans are a bit more interesting than house plants, about the only good thing I can say about being in the deep hush of waiting is that I’ve finally had a bit more time to knit. The front and back of my Suede T are finished, and as you can see, I’m almost done with the sleeves. I knit both at the same time so that no matter what, atthe very least they always match – but I only photographed one for the sake of clarity:
So far the pattern has been spot on. I did have a gasp-and-remeasure moment when I thought the back had ended up severely under length, but then I remembered the short rows in the bust. I have to admit I’ve got more topography to cover than some, so I added another iteration of the short row sequence above and beyond what was recommended for size D.As a result, when measured down the center, the front is quite a bit longer than the back. But when side seams are matched, they are exactly the same length, as are the armscye halves, front and back. My T should sew together with no problems.
Now I’ve got a bit of worry looking at the depth of the underarm bind-off areas, just before the sleeve cap begins. You can see those plateau-like areas above. They seem rather deep,althoughit’s been a long time since I didSerious Sewing or assembled a knitted full-tailored set-in sleeve. But short sleeves are just that – short. I’ll keep at it as written, then do a pin-fit or baste the thing together. If the sleeves seem to fit in oddly, I’ll rip them back, reshape the sleeve capand try again.It’s probably my own unsettlement and nervousness speaking so I am really notanticipatingdoing anything that drastic. I promise to report back as my T takes further shape.
Oops. The phone is ringing. Got to gather up knitting, today’s newspaper and my tea and hightail it out to the back yard to get out of the way of the tour du jour.
EYE OF THE CLEANING STORM
Well, the easy part is over. The house is now scrubbed to within an inch of its life.With so many familiar things stowed itlooks oddly sterile, almost hotel-like.
Amusingly enough the Real Estate Gal asked me if – being a knitter – I might put together a basket of yarn in suitable colors, and pose it invitingly next to the sofa. She said it was the visual equivalent of boiling a vanilla bean or baking bread before an open house. So it was off on a trek to the storage cubby to retrieve some yarn in order to tart up the family room. Today I expect a herd of real estate people to amble through, in preparation for this weekend’s official viewing. Now for the hard part – hurry up and wait for what we hope will be multiple offers.
In knitting, I’m still mid-sleeves on the Suede T- knitting time being at a premium through all of this. So instead of posting a boring snap of too many stitches of olivenylon squished on a too-small needle, here’s an oldie. I knit this for my older daughter back in ’92 or so, and I wish I were a better photographer. It’s in a DK weight cotton from Lane Borgosesia whose label drifted off into infinite space before the advent of the Yarn Review Collection. It features hearts and OXO cables, both from Walker’s treasuries; embellished with clusters of embroidered bullion knots.The knots weredonein scraps of a matte-finish sport weight cotton.
I was quite amused when two years later Knitters published a similar OXO/heart cardigan on the cover of its Aran issue. Mine however is unique – if for no other reason than for my inexperiencedbumbling around witth the button band when I was noodling it up.
- Note the odd number of heart-shaped buttons. There are seven because my spacing was off, and I was too lazy to go back and redo the button band for six.
- Note the fact that the button band is on the non-traditional side for a girl’s garment. When I was at this point I looked down at what I was wearing and did the same thing, never stopping to think that I was wearing a man’s chambray work shirt at the time.
- Note the less-than-effectively centeredhorizontal buttonholes. I didn’t know back then that during wear buttons "migrate" to the outside edge of the buttonhole slit. If I were to do this today, I’d not center my buttonholes in the band. Instead I’d skew them a bit to the inside edge, so that when buttoned, the buttons appear better aligned down the midpoint ofthe band.
Still for all these defects, this is a much-loved piece. Daughters #1 and #2 both wore it and enjoyed it. It lasted well, enduring grass stains, dripped ice cream, and a rather messy day of strawberry picking all followed by rather aggressive laundering. Now it’s at the cusp of being outgrown and is one of the things I intend on packing away rather than handing down to another wearer.
PACKING AND NOT KNITTING
Well, almost. I did manage to sneak in about an inch of the back of my Suede T last night, but that little progress isn’t worth the photodocumentation effort. [Side note: And even if I did the PicServer service appears to be intermittently fablunget. If you don’t see pix, try again later. I’ll port the whole show elsewhere as soon as I have the time to sit down and do the heavy lifting. Apologies!]
What I HAVE been doing is packing away stuff to make this house look more spacious. Half the books off the shelves, my aforementioned stash, most of the kids’ toys, furniture that makes the rooms look smaller – you get the idea. Among the things I have packed are some room-accessory type things.
Here’s one. I don’t have many Treasured Posessions. Things are just things, after all. But this thing does count. I know very little of it beyond that it was my grandmother’s, and that she may have received it as a wedding gift. She hated it, and kept it upstairs where no one would mistake it for a candy dish (someone she dreaded must have given it to her for her to keep it all those years). Plus most people findthe flieshorribly ugly, which to me only increasesthe piece’scharm:
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My fly dish is terra cotta or earthenware under that matte black glaze. It’s got the little brass filigree footing, plus a swarm of little brass colored flies applied to the inside. On the back is a hand-painted number and maker’s signature – "95/307 ITAM," which probably means that this was the 95th of 307 identical art pottery dishes. Who/what ITAM was is beyond my ken. I’ll never sell this piece (so please don’t ask). I suspect it post-dates the 1912 house by quite a bit, as my grandmother married in the early 1930s, but she didn’t necessarily get it new. Times were tough, and many people then gave presents from things they had on hand.
Right now it’s being packed away securely against the day when we are in the new space. Knitting relevance? Very little beyond my discovering that stash yarn makes soft, cushiony packing material for things that are both important and fragile.
String-Or-Nothing 