26: patron saint of curmudgeony...

he got off the phone after wishing him mom a happy "name day". it is a bizarre (to me) Croatian practice in which everyone seems to be named after a Catholic saint, and said saint's day is regarded with more importance than one's own birthday. he, however, was not named after a saint, and i have a sneaking suspicion that he feels a bit left out.

him: how come i don't get a name day?
me: because you're special, and none of the saints were good enough. did your mom have cake for her name day? 
him: probably.
me: you just spoke to her.
him: i know, but i just wished her a happy name day. i didn't ask about cake.

then i gave him that look that says, "i pity you for being such a man".

me: now i want cake.
him: do you want a name day too?
me: if i get to have cake... YES!
him: is there a Saint N****?
me: there is now.
him: and what is she the patron saint of?
me: patron saint of... curmudgeony!

just thinking about that conversation makes me want cake all over again. this will not end well.

as i have no doubt pointed out multiple times before, i have been known to follow total strangers down the street or around a store, just to get a closer look at a knitted garment they happen to be wearing. but the insanity does not stop there.

at this point, it is near-impossible for me to not direct my full attention to any knitted garment that appears on the screen when i am watching a movie, tv show, random You Tube video. basically, wear a sweater near a camera, and you are pretty much guaranteed my full attention. we could be in the middle of watching the most engaging thing, when all you hear is...

him: you're staring at the sweater, aren't you?
me: yep.

then we have to pause and figure out how far back we have to go to when i stopped listening. although, consider some of the nonsense we watch, not paying attention can be a wise decision most days.

so, there i was re-watching an episode of "Corner Gas" [full disclosure: i have seen every single episode of that show... multiple times... and the new animated series is also enjoyable], when i realized that i was only paying attention to Oscar's sweater.

i paused, took a screen cap, then i spent a bit of time studying the image. in this case, my interest had nothing to do with the rather un-remarkable construction of the cardi. it was all about the design of the fabric.

it was simple and, above all else, it was logical. at the end of the day, it is just a mosaic of triangles made up of stripes of color that go either this way or that. once you get past the first few rows, you can easily figure out what comes next without constantly having to count tiny squares on a chart. in a word... logical! i approve so very much.

i began by making a rough sketch of the basic motif, which i transposed to a spreadsheet. there are a few websites and software specifically designed for creating grid-based designs of this type, but i have a template with the columns and rows already set up for this very purpose, and it suits me just fine. i played around with the line thickness from one color to the next, but the basic idea remains the same. now came the fun bit.

first i tried two different options for the orientation of the horizontal and vertical lines. horizontal bars in the down-facing triangle...

or in the up-facing triangle. i may have just invented a new yoga pose.

then i took both of those options, and multiplied them to see how the design played out across a larger surface, then i did the same thing again, this time, staggering the pattern so that they stacked differently. and, just like that, i had four different (but similar) ways in which that simple combination of lines and spaces could play out. i prefer the staggered versions (bottom half of both images), but any of those combinations... or even all four at once... could be incorporated into any garment, from a comfy old cardigan, to a rather posh set of matching mittens, scarf, and a hat.

i planned on knitting up a quick sample of all four motifs for demonstration purposes only. however, as this notion struck me shortly after midnight, i had to settle for a small section of my favorite one... on the bottom right.

ignore the sloppy, uneven stitches, and i am fairly certain that i got my colors mixed up at least one or two times. this is what you get when i go searching for yarn in the dark in the middle of the night. the basic point is that a rather unexciting chart can provide inspiration for so many future-makes.

and, in case you think this was an isolated incident, it should be noted that i do this sort of thing all of the time. i am especially drawn to lines and textures, so i occasionally save an image of some interesting thing.

this was a sweater worn by a contestant on an episode of Turkish Bake Off... which was the first of the many "Bake Off" titles we officially tapped out of, as it was way too wacky for even the two of us combined.

i still cannot figure out that textured stitch, despite having devoted hours to searching every stitch dictionary i can find, both in hard copy and online. one of these days.

the host of said program wore this dress in one episode, and i was mesmerized by the design on the fabric. of course, in my life, that would only ever happen in black and white.

there was also this interesting skirt worn by a minor character in an episode of "Dad's Army"... one of my favorite "lull myself to sleep" things to watch late at night. i have seen every episode so many times, that i can let my mind drift while it plays in the background, like a favorite old story you can recite from memory. "Last of the Summer Wine" (a personal favorite) and "Hogan's Heroes" are also on that list. perhaps i have said too much.

i especially like the way the lines cross on the diagonal, and it would be interesting to use a similar approach to add an element of interest to an otherwise boring knitted top. i am still contemplating that one.

then there is that bloody sweater from the "Two Princes" video. my life will have zero meaning until the day i finally figure that one out.

8: the evolution of everything...

him: what are you doing?

me: some dinky puzzle that guesses your age based on the tv shows you've seen.

him: how old did it say you were?

me: twenty-five. i can live with that.

him: i'm kinda surprised, because all you watch are documentaries and knitting podcasts. i expected it to say that you were at least ninety. 

i have not settled on the method of my revenge, but i guarantee you... it will happen.

full-disclosure: this is going to sound a bit "ranty", as it concerns a recent addition to my list of 'pet peeves'. you do not want to see the whole list. trust me. let us just file this one under what i like to call curmudgeony. 

i have been watching a lot of documentaries of late, and the word "influence" tends to come up a lot in those discussions. any time a group of people came into contact with another group of people, each one tended to leave some lingering change on the other group's "traditional" way of doing things. in a word... influence.     

our art, architecture, fashion, weapons of warfare, and even the food we eat all serve as an (ever-changing) record of who we have met and where we have been. look up the history of any subject you can imagine, and you will in short order find yourself reading about what influenced it... and what influenced the influences.

change is the single-greatest common factor in the evolution of everything.

so, what does this have to do with my pet peeve, you are asking? patience, young grasshopper. i am getting to that bit.

it requires a bit of background.

there is a concept called "stranded colorwork knitting" in which you use different colors of yarn to "paint" a design. each individual stitch acts in a manner similar to an individual pixel in a digital image. the "stranded" part refers to the practice of leaving the strand of yarn that is not being used at any given point suspended at the back of the work.

take, for example, the stranded colorwork design on my Branches & Buds sweater from last year. this is the front of the knitted fabric, where you can make out the individual "pixels" in the overall motif.

while on the back of the fabric (inside the sweater), you can see where the yarns were "stranded" when not in use. there is less yellow than grey knitted on the "outside" of the design, which means that there is more yellow yarn stranded on the "inside" of the sweater. i still prefer this side of the pattern.

most modern day knitters tend to refer to all stranded colorwork as "Fair Isle knitting". however, the term "Fair Isle" technically refers to a specific style of stranded knitting, which is named after an island where said style originated.

[i found this (quick) explanation of the different styles of stranded knitting, should anyone really care about the details. ]

and, what does that have to do with history documentaries and evolution? well... that is the point of the whole thing. start looking into the background of any of the specific styles, and you will shortly find yourself reading about some culture being influenced by another culture, and the lingering effect it had on this most humble of things... their style of knitting. 

to arrive at the "style" currently associated with any art form, from any given part of the globe, they had to abandon some part of the style(s) that existed before it. this means... and here is the crazy part... they had to be open to change. total madness, i know. 

so, there i was, watching a podcast about fibery things, when the host made a comment about a knitwear designer whose work they really admire. then they hastened to add that although the designer is doing stranded colorwork, and although the designer is from Fair Isle, they (the podcaster) did not consider the work to be "real" Fair Isle knitting... because the designer did not follow all of the "traditions" that define "Fair Isle knitting". 

and THAT is when i stopped watching.

where is the pet peeve in all of that, you are wondering? well, it is more of a concept than an actual "thing". in the effort to "honor" and "preserve" all sorts of "traditions", we seem to have settled on the notion that it is a sacrilege to make room for the ongoing evolution of said thing.

now, i do not want you to misunderstand what i mean in that criticism. it is incredibly important to acknowledge and document all sorts of things, if only for history's sake. however, the suggestion that we arrest any further changes to something—that came about as the result of a change—is... well... just a tiny bit insane. 

imagine if the first person who suggested the concept of illnesses being transmitted through "germs" got run out of town for failing to honor the "traditions" of witchcraft, demonic possession, and imbalanced bodily fluids that were believed to be the cause of every known disease. sheer madness!

and, yes, i fully recognize the inherent absurdity of me elevating this to the level of a pet peeve, but it really does bother me. and that, some may say, is the very nature of a pet peeve. i also cringe whenever someone pronounces "coupon" as kew-pon, but that one pretty much explains itself.

i was sharing this frustration over the "Fair Isle" debacle with my favorite animator, who gets to be on the front-line of my rants about wholly unimportant things. i got to the end, and i stood there... waiting for some kind of response.

him: so... what is Fair Isle again?
me: it's a style of stranded colorwork named for an island called "Fair Isle" in the Shetland isles, up in northern Scotland.
him: oh! i thought you were saying "feral". you know, like this...

at which point, he raised both hands like "claws" and started grimacing like a trapped, rabid raccoon.

and THAT is when i stopped watching.

day 1: more of the same...

i was considering doing something i called "twelve days of Scroogemas", which would be my take on the whole "twelve days of Christmas" thing (which begins on Christmas Day, in case you are confused). except, my version would center on me complaining daily about wholly pointless things that annoy me (like teas that taste like desserts, and people who use phrases like "conversation piece" to describe items in their wardrobe). yes... i do have some problems. luckily, my favorite animator talked me out of said crazy notion, so i will instead fill my 'twelve days' with intensely dull non-happenings in my life. basically, more of the same.

so, it is December twenty-fifth, and people keep using the word "holiday", so i guess there must be something happening. i tend to get my fill of seasonal cheer by mid-October, so December usually finds me sulking in a corner, asking the same question. is it over yet? so, "happy..." and "merry..." to all of you who celebrate such things, but that is about as cheerful as i get. oh, and for those of you who get excited about such things, i opened the drapes this morning to find this view... and it is still snowing as it nears five in the afternoon (or, maybe i should say evening, as night comes early at this time of year).

it is hard to imagine that this space was packed solid with greenery just a few short months ago.

while we do not get excited about Christmas, the arrival of the New Year is a whole different thing. we genuinely enjoy spending New Year's Eve together, which we have done every single year since we met fourteen (or was it fifteen...?) years ago. we always make some sort of adventurous meal together, or (once or twice) we had dinner at some special place. this is usually when we break out the recipe for some crazy dish that involves new (to us) ingredients or cooking techniques, or we dust off an old favorite that would take far too much time/effort to make on a regular day. my very first post was a recap (three weeks later) of the vulgar display of meat that went into making my first ever batch of sarma (Croatian stuffed cabbage rolls) that New Year's Eve.

we had so much fun with that whole experience, that we still joke that if we ever have a daughter, we will name her Sarma (which sounds like an Indian name—which happens to be part of my paternal lineage—so it would be a meeting of sorts of two delicious cultures). conversely, if we ever have a son, we will name him Grah... which is a Croatian bean stew. and this, ladies and gentlemen, is why we are not responsible enough to ever have children. where was i? oh, yes... New Year's Eve and food.

we have pretty much decided on this year's food-venture, although i am still resisting his request for homemade cinnamon buns. my go-to recipe involves about six hours in total of making/resting time, and i i am far too scatter-brained these days to keep track of anything for quite so long. still, there will be homemade cinnamon buns of a sort, though this particular variety will be made purely out of curiosity. that is all i am saying for now.

now, please pardon me while i resume sipping a cup of (non-dessert-flavored) tea and daydreaming against a backdrop of falling snow. maybe i will muster enough excitement to add a row or two to my latest knitting project. i can almost guarantee you that it will not be a "conversation piece". or, maybe i will just snuggle with the first passing cat and spend what remains of the afternoon in something approximating sleep. on second thoughts, if every twenty-fifth of December was like this one, i would gladly take more of the same.

dirty c-word...

i make a statement every once in a while that leaves me thinking, "have i gone too far this time with my curmudgeony?" (it is a word now, and no, it is not the c-word under discussion). explaining this one involves a bit of background on the joys of growing up in a Caribbean family. and, no, that is not the word either. i will be sure to let you know when we get there.

Caribbean decor sensibilities peaked at something i usually describe as "Victorian chic". regardless of where we might live in the diaspora, this one feature usually remains the same. it is a tendency toward a prim, ornate muchness that makes you feel like you have stumbled into the tea parlor of an aged spinster from a bygone era. you expect to see Miss Marple seated amidst the brocade furniture (and i do not mean the Miss Marple of more recent years, as she is practically a feminist warrior). it feels less like you have entered the comfort of a living room in someone's home, and more like you are walking through a life-size diorama in a museum of forgotten history.

added to that are the many ornate side tables, upholstered benches, and chairs adorning every non-vital bit of floor space. these objects are not for sitting or even resting something on. their sole purpose is to be admired... and to impress. as i write this, i can hear my mom disagreeing with this characterization, but i only have to remind her of some of the folks we have known over the years (including the one lady who had so many shower curtains hanging in layers at the same time, it must have taken her a few extra minutes to find her way in or out of the bath). making your way across some of these rooms can be like completing a complex maze in a side-scrolling game. you almost expect to 'level up' when you get to the other side. but—worst of all—there atop every table, chair back, and shelf you will find a crisply-starched lace doily made in the most-ornate of crochet... and that is the c-word we are going to talk about today.

i recognize that this qualifies as the most-first of first-world problems possibly ever in the entire history of humanity, but it should be stated—for the record—that i truly despise crochet. this is due to the fact that i tend to associate it with a certain aesthetic that has dominated far too many homes i have entered in my lifetime. my people seem to be seriously bothered by the sight of empty spaces, so they adorn every horizontal surface and piece of furniture with some form of elaborate crochet (or some mass-produced facsimile of the same). i think the assumption is that it adds a perceived value or beauty to the object below it, but (in my mind, at least) it has always served as a banner that screams, "do not touch anything... do not get too comfortable here". where is the "welcome" in that?

i further recognize that this all sounds completely absurd coming from me. i am knitting obsessed. i spend my leisure time reading about sheep. i am fairly certain that the Canadian wool growers association removed a bunch of breeds from their list after my repeated inquiries highlighted the fact that there were no farms in the country raising said sheep. seriously. you do not ever want to give me your mailing address, because a package will eventually show up at your door containing some sort of item knitted by me... plus some sweets (an apology of sorts for having burdened the recipient with the joy of hand-knits). who am i to criticize other people's fiber-related insanity??? yet, criticize it i will. it is not that i am condemning or even discouraging the craft of crochet... though, face it, i am. it is simply that my experience has led me to conclude that it is a thing of which i want no part. exactly.

worse than the doilies and other decorative knick-knacks are the garments made of crochet. why...??? i know that i am not the most expert of knitters, and i still have quite a way to go toward refining and perfecting my skills. [case and point: zippers in knitted garments. following one too many disappointments, i have vowed to avoid them until i figure out how to stop it from looking like a wavy piece of bacon in a frying pan.] seriously... i am no pro, and most of the stuff i produce still looks "handmade... with love". look at some of the patterns coming out of design-powerhouses like Berroco (i want this sweater from one of their latest collections), Quince & Co, or Brooklyn Tweed, and the phrase "handcrafted... with great skill" jumps to mind. the simplest of hand-knits can be super-refined when done right. by contrast, most of the crocheted clothing i have ever seen look "obviously homemade... possibly by a person who made the garment out of sheer spite". sorry, but... pretty much.

me: seriously... why do people keep crocheting clothes? it only ever looks like they're wearing macramé plant hangers on their body. 
him: it's just like knitting. how bad can it be?

i usually shake my head at him in pity at this point.

crazy part is, i actually know how to crochet, i just refuse to do so. that collection of hooks? they are mine, and there probably are a few more of them scattered around our place.

mom taught me the basics eons before i even knew what knitting was. i never actually saw her make anything, but there were always a few steel hooks and the odd ball of insanely-thin crochet thread somewhere in our home. i practiced just long enough to get the hang of the thing, then abruptly abandoned it, lest i be insulted by being asked to make doilies. to this day, i am not sure if my mom knows that i actually can crochet... and i hope to keep it that way.

so, there i was one day, browsing through some patterns on Ravelry. i had just finished a knitting project and i was trying to decide what to start next, when it occurred to me that my intense prejudice against crochet has nothing to do with the craft itself and all to do with my intense dislike for surfaces covered in useless bits of lace. maybe i just needed to find the right garment to crochet. i was having something of a love affair with cottony Summer tees, so i decided to keep things simple and search for patterns of a similar kind. i typed in "summer lace top", then totally ignored the little box next to "knitting", and checked "crochet" for the very first time. there was quite a lot of the kind of stuff i expected to find, but there were also a lot of sophisticated, refined designs and some truly impressive garments among the results. i wanted something simple—both in look and in construction—so i settled on the Amma granny square top. it is two large squares knit crocheted from the center out, then joined and finished with a few rows of stitches for tidy edges. it is the kind of pattern that you read through once, then maybe come back to it at the end to see what stitch they used for the trim... maybe. this was perfect for me. plus, i really did like the top. so i found some yarn in a season-appropriate cotton blend, and began my foray into crochet.

it was going better than just fine. i had one small hook and only one live stitch to worry about at a time. it was downright divine... for a while. then reality kicked in. as my square grew, so did my concern. gone was the lovely, squishy fabric i am used to when i knit. what i had before me was a ropey, nettish mass, the sight of which made me think of only two things: macramé... and crochet. maybe i was letting my expectations cloud my judgment? i grabbed another ball of yarn and carried on. i put down my hook somewhere near the end of ball number two, and took a hard look at what i had accomplished. then i heard the whisper of a familiar, nagging voice growing in the back of my mind. am i ever going to actually wear this thing? highly unlikely.

i was fully prepared to abandon it at that point, but i decided to seek an unbiased second opinion. i entered the studio with the fabric displayed in all its glory between my two outstretched hands, and waited to be acknowledged. it should be noted that i have been accused on several occasions of creeping him out by standing there silently. in my defense, it is usually because i went there to tell him something, and forgot what that was along the way, so i just stood there, trying my best to reverse my train of thought... then he turned around and was startled by my sudden appearance, standing there, staring blankly at a wall... or at him.  nothing creepy about that, right?

this time around, i cleared my throat to make my presence known, then said nothing. i did not want to influence his first impression by asking a potentially-leading question, so i just held out the large square of fabric and waited. this is pretty normal behavior around here, as i am always in the middle of making some thing, and always seeking an opinion from him. he gestured for me to bring it closer, then leaned forward to study the object briefly before commenting. no exaggeration... this is exactly how it went.

him: oh... i see what you mean about crochet.
me: exactly.

i did not frog it right away, as i held on to the hope that i might change my mind, but i did grab a fresh ball of that same yarn and started working on a different top. knitted this time. it is like returning to the company of an old friend.

this decision was approved by the highest authority in our household.

she sat on the thing and immediately proceeded to fall asleep. i so absolutely love the total lack of caring disregard for self-awareness of cats.

this is not to suggest that i have abandoned the idea of giving crochet a try. i just need to find the right pattern that takes advantage of the technique, without producing a fabric that looks (and feels) like my dead grandfather's old fishing nets. the Crystal lace bolero has been in my favorites list for quite some time now, but i keep resisting the temptation to make it because... well... it is crochet. maybe i will make one for mom. then there are the designers like Marie Wallin, whose work just might convince me to give crochet another try. i recently fell in love with her knitwear designs (i just bought the pattern for a sweater of hers), and i realized that she also crochets. her Fountain and Lupin tops are beautiful, and the Rose sweater looks like something right out of a fairy tale (i can definitely see my mom in that last one, as that sort of thing does not fit into my 'tank top and season-appropriate pajama bottom' lifestyle). i am almost tempted to ask if she would like me to make her one, but i already know how that will go down. "oh, i didn't realize that you also crochet. i should get you to make me some doilies"... then i will probably end up being disowned.

strange though it may seem, this experience has left me with a nagging desire to crochet—of all things—doilies. crazy, i know. i want to make them in an assortment of colors and sizes (ranging from tiny coasters to large bed throws, all in unnecessarily-ornate lace), then mount them in frames and display them together on a wall for the world to see. above it i will hang a banner that reads, "please feel free to sit wherever you like and  make yourself comfortable... all are welcome here". exactly.