if you can see this...

it is a wet and overcast Friday in Montreal. i am sipping coffee while watching a raccoon amble around the roof of the two-story brownstone directly across the street. part of me wants to grab a large piece of cardboard and post a sign on the balcony that reads "if you can see this, there is a raccoon on your roof", but it might get awkward when all the neighbors start pulling out the extra-long ladders. for now, i will sip my coffee and assume that the raccoon will get down the same way (s)he got up there in the first place.

we were both feeling a bit under the weather, so all non-vital activity ground to a standstill for the past couple-few days. beyond that, i seem to have pulled (or ripped) a muscle in my shoulder-back junction area (clearly they did not teach us back anatomy in all those neuroscience classes). it only hurts when i pick up anything heavier than a large cup of tea, or when i twist my neck in the opposite direction, or when i inhale too deeply. inhaling deeply is highly overrated.

i am fighting the urge to frog (that is knit-speak for "rip out") the pink cardi i started a few weeks back. it is not the fault of the Bly pattern. i am on the fence as to whether or not i will ever wear this garment. to be honest, i am frightened by the pinkness of the thing. furthermore, this is a very knobbly cotton yarn and it is taking a serious toll on my hands. i am going to shove it to the side for a while, lest i do something rash... with destruction by fire being at the very top of the list.

on a positive note, this was my first time using Amy Herzopg's custom-fit method (you can find her books here and here on Amazon, and workshops here and here on Craftsy). i am a believer! the conventional method for sizing knitted tops is to measure around the fullest part of the bust, which works well for the smaller-busted among us. however, if you came back for seconds (or thirds) in that department, you will end up with a garment that is ill-fitted around the shoulders (not to mention around the waist, if you happen to be of the hourglass-shaped persuasion). if you have ever tried on a pair of jeans that fit perfectly around the hips, only to be left with like several extra inches of fabric bunched up around the waist, you understand the struggle. enter Amy Herzog and her brilliant observation taken from the world of sewing: why not just pick a base size that fits your shoulders, then add darts [increases and decreases] to shape the garment to fit your curves??? why not, indeed.

my (maternal) grandmother was a seamstress (she taught everyone in the family to sew from a young age—including my mom's little brother, who was a tailor's assistant before going off to study architecture... but i am straying from the point). she would make garments so well-fitted, it was as if the fabric was woven around your body. it makes so much sense to apply that logic to knitwear, where you are literally building the fabric stitch-by-stitch. armed with this mind-blowing revelation, i set out to create my very first item using what Amy terms bust darts. on the hanger, it may look like the garment is wearing a bra, but you try it on, and it fits!!! i may continue working on the cardi to practice using the waist and hip shaping... then i will frog it... maybe

on the greener side of life, the potatoes put on some serious growth this past week.

i added more soil to the bag. i will unfold that edge (which i turned down to get more light to the bottom) and fill it all the way to the top in the next week or two.

Mama Kitty was very excited by all of this action. trust me, this is excited in her universe.

then there was that yarn i dyed a couple weeks back.

i cannot decide which of the two colorways i prefer. koi pond...

... or industrial decay.

they have both managed to displace mixed-berry trifle as my favorite hand-dyed yarn to date.

i loved that combo so very much, i even allowed myself to turn some of it into a ribbed, slouchy hat, which is my go-to head-warmer. that is as much wool as i can tolerate without breaking out in hives, so i savor every moment of the experience. i may in fact be wearing it at this very moment. truth.

i used the industrial decay combo on two skeins of different weights, by which i mean different thickness of the spun yarn.

i bought all three skeins of bare yarn from the wonderful folks at Fibre Garden (which is were i bought last summer's painter's box of fiber).

to the left is Leicester-Foot™ (an 80/20 superwash-BFL/nylon combo that is perfect for socks), and to the right is Wash-It™ (a 100% superwash merino that seems destined to become next-winter's favorite slouchy hat).

koi pond is on their Socky-Talky™ base (a 80/20 superwash-merino/nylon blend that is also good for socks).

me: both of these yarns have nylon. people usually look for that when they're knitting socks. don't know what i'm gonna do with them.
him: you can knit me socks.
me: maybe i will put them in my display cans and smile at them in awe every time i pass by.
him: or, you can knit me socks.
me: or, maybe i can make more fingerless gloves... but i already have so many fingerless gloves.

at which point i grabbed the umbrella swift...

and began to wind the first ball in preparation for sock-knitting.

then i fell in love all over again. seriously, how could i ever ruin such a beautiful thing by placing it next to someone's feet?

i may be forced to buy a six-pack of Hanes, and hope he does not notice the difference.

No comments:

Post a Comment