I saw this over on Design Sponge and fell instantly in love. It’s awesome all on it’s own, but they even show it filled with yarn. Very thoughtful of them! It’s made from paper, and it seems like the perfect excuse to break out the sewing machine. I have a vague feeling I’d need to get a special super sturdy needle for it (like one of the ones for denim), and I might try out the fancy decorative stitches that my machine makes, but I definitely want to play with the idea. Now…to find the paper…anybody think colored tissue paper might work? Or would that look too much like an easter basket? Or maybe that could be cute if you wanted to make an easter basket? I foresee some experimentation.
(And the obligatory note, this image is from Design Sponge and belongs to them. I’m sharing it because it’s awesome and I want you to know about it. Click on the pic to see their post, complete with instructions. If you’re from Design Sponge and want me to take it down, just let me know!)
You sat to my left at the concert in Toronto on the 14th. I noticed you seemed to be a bit perplexed by me and my actions during the concert. Indeed, perplexed may not be a strong enough word. You appeared downright disturbed. To help allay your concerns, I thought I’d answer some of the questions that seemed to occur to you. So, without further ado:
2) Yes, really.
3) A sock.
4) Again, yes, really.
5) Because I like to. Because they are awesome. Because it’s my job. Because it helps me respond with more grace to the antics of others.
6) Indeed, I do think it’s an appropriate thing to do at a concert.
7) For a variety of reasons. Namely, because it is quiet. The sound of yarn against yarn or the sound of needle on needle is far quieter than, just for example, the braying of your ringing phone and your loud conversations. Because it is discrete. My knitting does not emit light, unlike (again, just for example) your phone as you send text message after text message. Because it can be done while remaining within the confines of my allotted seat. My knitting can be accomplished while keeping both my elbows and my knees to myself, unlike (once again, just for example) your phone conversation, which seemed to demand a truly impressive amount of gesticulation (hint, your conversational partner can not see you).
So sir, please do not be alarmed. And don’t worry, knitting is easy to learn. If you’ll just put your cell phone away, I’ll be happy to show you how. In no time at all, you too can be behaving appropriately in public.
The Irritated Knitter to Your Right
- January 26, 2012
Sorry for the radio silence. I’m going over the draft book with highlighters and a variety of colored pens and a stack of post its. So are a host of genius editors and tech editors and other noble and diligent souls. I know it’s part of the process, and I’m very glad to be at this stage of the project, but it does cut into knitting time. All of which means that the orange spiky socks are coming along slowly (just past the gusset decreases on the second sock). As soon as they’re done, I’ll have the pattern up. It’s all written and tested, I just need the socks finished so I can take some pretty pictures, then it’s all yours.
Actually, they need one more thing. They need a name. I noticed the other day that I have patterns starting with almost all of the letters of the alphabet (apparently I like the shiny words, who knew). The only letters missing are Q and Z. So, do I try and name the next few patterns with words that use those letters? Or do I just let them pick their own name like usual and not worry about filling out the alphabet? And if the former, does anyone know any good Q or Z words?
You’ll have to pardon me. I’ve been a poor hostess. I’ve neglected to make the proper introductions. Miss Manners would not be pleased.
Knitters, I’d like you to meet Esmeralda. She’s a lovely multi-part hat form. Esmeralda, please meet the knitters. They will all appreciate your unique talent for improving the look of jaunty hats of various shapes and sizes.
You guys chat amongst yourselves, I’ll be over here working on something dashing for our new friend to wear.
- January 21, 2012
- tags: process
There was a period in my misguided youth and childhood when I thought I might become an engineer. Perhaps it was a function of the time, but it sort of seemed to be the default assumption for what smart girls who could hold their own in math and science class ‘should’ do. I had no particular objections, and I didn’t have any better ideas, so I just sort of smiled and nodded and went along with it. It meant I took a lot of math classes. I took every single math class my high schools offered, and then toddled off to college and took quite a few more.
Turns out I didn’t actually want to be an engineer. Not really at all (though it wasn’t the math classes that turned me off, those were kind of fun). But all those math classes, those years and years and years of math classes? They’re languishing in the back of mind doing me no favors at all. I’ve yet to find myself in a situation where my life depends on my ability to recall and utilize L’Hopital’s rule (and just to be clear, I don’t wish to find myself in this situation, because the chances I’d make it out alive are slim at best…though if I did survive, it would make for a hell of a story).
This is the closest I come to math these days. These are the notes for getting the heel flap positioned correctly over several different sizes of sock. Back when I knit my own socks, and only knit them in one size, I could just write down what I did. Now that I have help with the knitting and try to include several sizes, I have to do a wee bit of figuring ahead of time. I’m pretty sure if my math teachers could see this now they’d smack me upside the head for having wasted their time. On the flip side, if I do this right, lots and lots of knitters will have attractive, well-fitting socks, which seems somehow more satisfying than acing a calculus test.