A hard fall

And I'm not talking about tripping and toppling over. Even though I do that. A lot. Thanks for the klutz genes, Mom.

No, the fall I am referring to would be the season. Autumn. Where you get crisp fresh air, brilliant blue skies and thrumming reds, oranges and yellows on the trees. Growing up in Minnesota fall meant scarecrows, pumpkins, indian corn, apple harvests, and Sunday drives to see the leaves change. It meant long sleeves and sweaters dug out of bottom drawers, corduroy and wool. When the rains came they would hover all day gently splattering the sidewalks while the chains on the tether ball poles clanked in the stiff wind while I stared out classroom windows. Grandma would shine in her culinary glory turning out savory meatloaf, pot roast, and mashed potatoes. The smell of cinnamon and pumpkins and cloves filled her kitchen. My mother to this day makes the best apple pies I ever hope to inhale. I live for the day after Thanksgiving when the two of us start our Christmas shopping (yes, we are those people), but mostly because I get to have pie for breakfast.

This will be my fifth autumn living in southern Florida, where we live in our own little weather bubble that is completely separate from the rest of the country. As a sub-tropical climate we are now moving into our pleasant weather season. The heat usually comes at the end of April and stays with us until mid-October when we start to see drier, cooler air take the place of the stinking hot inferno that plagues us during the summer months.

I first moved to Florida right after Christmas of 2004 to begin my new job in January 2005. I was coming from New Hampshire and arrived to palm trees, warm breezes and sunny skies. My internal calendar was seriously thrown out of whack. For the first few months I would catch myself wondering where the heck Easter had gone, since the weather was just like a fine June day in Minnesota. It would take a moment to hit me that I hadn't lived through Easter yet - it was still just February. The first summer was unbearably hot... walking from apartment to car or from car to store/work/church was like walking through an oven and I did it as little as possible.

Five years down the road and I can tolerate summers much better. Air conditioning in my place of work is set to frigid so I often wear sweaters to work in June July and August. Going out to the car in a sweater doesn't even make me blink now. That first year if it had been socially acceptable to strip naked to go outside, well, I still wouldn't do it, but it would have been close.

However, in exchange for delightfully warm winters I have traded seasons. Leaves don't noticeably turn, flowers bloom year-round, and the best time for shelling on the beaches is the middle of January and February. I miss all of the wonderful things that make autumn special. And that's what makes a hard fall for me.

Instead of this:

I get this all year:

I know, paradise, right? Most people think so. And it is beautiful, I would never deny it. But most people come here for 2 weeks and sigh over its beauty and then go home. Nature is beautiful no matter where on earth you are, and saying this is better than autumn leaves may be an opinion, but it isn't everyone's. It's all about what you don't have, isn't it? I want cooler weather and leaves changing colors, while folks up north are digging in for winter and longing to escape to a tropical paradise for a few weeks in February.

It's like Eddie Izzard said about squirrels: They sit around eating nuts all day when what they really long for is a grapefruit.

You're probably wondering to yourself why I am prattling on about the weather in a blog about knitting. Though it doesn't take a great leap to understand why it might be hard to get in the knitting mood in Florida. When it is still in the 90's in December and you are sweating like a pig while Christmas shopping it is pretty hard to drum up holiday cheer. Why knit sweaters or mittens, scarves or hats when you never get to wear them? Or if you do, it is maybe one or two days a year at the most? That's not so hard to get, is it?

So why not move? Follow my wool-swaddled heart back north? Ah, there lies the crux of the problem. I am now married to a wonderful man who grew up in Miami. We've talked about relocating to this place or that, but it always comes back to how he loves the weather here so much that it would be hard for him to live anywhere else. I can sympathize, and since I don't miss winter too much I am mostly content to stay here for the time being.

But it does seem that my longing for seasonal changes grows sharper every year. And my instincts to nest always kick in around the end of September, no matter what the thermometer says outside.

As far as knitting goes, I find ways to adapt. I knit with cotton. I knit dishcloths and bags that don't require wearing. Cotton socks can be comfortable year round. And when I get an urge to make something like a scarf or a hat, I still have lots of friends in cold climes who hopefully appreciate my handmade gifts.

The second sock is moving along. I am probably 5-6 inches through the ankle/cuff part. Editied Chapter 12 of my book last night. Life keeps moving forward.

Reunited and it feels so good

Dang. Now I'm going to have that song in my head all day. I have realized over the years that there are people who are predisposed to having songs perpetually stuck in their heads, and those who don't. I fall in the former category and some days long to be in the latter. How does one manage with all that quiet empty space to rattle around in? I would find it luxurious. As it stands, things are packed in pretty tight in my brain. The song I sing in my head twines around grocery lists, things to do at work, appointments, book plots, and all sorts of flotsam and jetsam that are better left...erm, unaccounted for.

So I've taken a bit of a hiatus. To be fair, in the months I've been not writing here I did write a novel. Yup. I got the thunderbolt of inspiration at approximately 4:30 p.m. on Wednesday, March 31, 2010. I wrote the first draft in 12 weeks. I am currently working on my third and hope to be finito by then end of the year and be ready to start looking for agents. Because of that, all my creative energy was sapped by said novel. It wasn't until the last month or so that I began to pick up the needles again.

It all started when I realized Christmas might be a bit lean this year. We are going to Oregon for a wedding in December, and the expense might put a crimp in our usual budget. (Not that I really mind, one of my husband's best friends is getting married, and I can't think of two people for whom I would be more inclined to travel cross country in December.)

So Christmas. Lean on funds. Not a problem! Mom loooooves the dishcloths I've knitted her out of cotton and those would be a nice bulky stocking stuffer, right? Problem was, I only had slubs left of my balls of cotton. We were leaving for a long weekend in Orlando, so I grabbed a pair of needles and made KAK stop at my LYS to pick up a skein or two of cotton yarn. And I ended up knitting my Mom a beautiful lacy turquoise scarf to which I crystal beaded the ends. (Pictures to follow.)

I was back, baby.

The next thing I did was look through my stash and pick something I thought was pretty and decided to make a felted bag. I used leftover turquoise I used for my Kable needle case earlier this year and 2 skeins of Noro Kureyon I bought sometime this summer. Forget the colorway at the moment, but it was lovely dark blues and purples with a little green thrown in. Here is the finished product:

I am pleased with this one. I felted it in the washing machine by putting it in a pillowcase slipcover. Worked like a dream. The only thing I could find to block it was our old Revere soup kettle. That too, worked perfectly.

And now onto bigger and better things. Earlier this year when I began this blog, I mentioned wanting to make more complicated things than just endless scarves. I finally decided it was time. The stars were aligned, my horoscope was good, my biorhythms were optimal... it was time to knit socks.

I've been wanting to knit socks ever since I started reading Stephanie Pearl-McPhee's Yarn Harlot blog. Wherever she goes on her book tours, she brings a sock she is knitting. It gets its picture taken countless times with many people. Hundreds of people have brought their first socks to show her and she posts pictures of every one of them. When I was a misguided teen with terrible fashion sense, I felt it was super-cool to match my socks with my shirt. I had socks of every color, socks with fabric paint squiggles, tie-dyed socks, I even had a pair of pink socks with zippers on them. (It was the 80's. Sue me.) But when I started reading Stephanie's blog and I saw the gorgeous sock in drool-worthy colors, I knew this was something I wanted to do.

But socks seem daunting. Just uttering the phrase "turning the heel," made me break out in nervous sweat. Earlier this year I had bought a basic book on knitting socks, and last weekend I sat down to start. I decided to make my first sock on dpns (double-pointed needles) because it is the classic way to do things. I am nothing if not classicist first.

So just over a week ago I cast on. I had been intimidated by casting on dpns in the past. I'd tried it a couple of times using different suggestions, but always ended up with a knot of yarn in my hands and a knot of frustration in my head. This time I decided to do it a way that made sense to me. I cast on all 68 stitches onto one single dpn, and then knit them off with each needle in turn. Ha! Conquered you, dpns!

I've always been one who reads directions. From assembling furniture to baking, I've always been adept at deciphering schematics and could successfully put the cam locks in board E so I could bolt it to board C. So I shouldn't have been shocked when I was able to easily navigate the steps for knitting a sock. Even when sick in bed with a sinus infection and bronchitis I did it. The heel flap didn't get me. Picking up stitches was a breeze. And even though I think I mucked up the kitchener stitch on the toe a bit, I did it!

Behold, my first sock:

I used Patons Kroy Sock yarn. The colorway was a number I forget, but it has muddy greens, browns, and tans. And that is not my hairy leg, by the way. That belongs to my husband. Please disregard the rest of the mess, I was sick for a week and our house it not fit for other eyes.

It isn't a perfect sock. The ribs are a little uneven, and I decreased too fast in the gusset, but it is a whole sock, and pretty good for a first try. I hope its not too forward to say I want to show my sock to the Yarn Harlot. Hope she writes another book and goes on tour soon so I can do just that.

Second sock was cast on yesterday. It will probably be prettier than the first. I worry the first sock my be jealous of its better constructed twin, but it can take heart in knowing it was the first, and therefore, just a little more special to me than any subsequent more beautiful socks that may follow.

Aching for Yarn (pink yarn)

I have been having issues with lace weight. Apparently I think I am a master yarner and that I can do anything that anyone else with years of knitting experience can throw down.

I must remember that I have only been seriously knitting for a few months. I must also remember that while I am deft and dexterous at crafts that everything will not come easy.

What? You mean I'm not special???

Oh dear. No one tell my mother. She'll be crushed.

I did buy two types of lace weight yarn with the idea that I am going to make a beautiful lace shawl ala the Yarn Harlot. Please don't laugh. I forget myself. You will be relieved to know that I did remember myself - over and over each time I began again, messed up, and ripped out.

I even chose a relatively easy pattern. I am trying (like hell) to make the Gypsy Rose Scarf. I cast on countless times, and apparently am unable to count to 63, because I always ended up with either too many or too few stitches at the end of one of the first rows. It was maddening. I thought it might be the needles, so I switched from metal to bamboo. Bamboo was worse - the yarn gripped too much. I figured it out finally, that I wasn't getting the pattern because I couldn't see it as well on such skinny yarn.

So to get the hang of the dang pattern, I switched to a worsted weight yarn on size 7 needles. And lo and behold, the pattern finally made sense! I could see the stitches, and I could see what they looked like when I was working the pattern.

So now I have moved down in yarn size. I purchased 2 skeins of Crystal Palace Bamboo Silk in a pretty pale pink color. It came today, and I immediately started working with it. Oh, I am in love! The yarn is so shiny, and so small and smooth that it makes my heart ache. I love it so much that I would marry it if polygamy was allowed in Florida. And I started knitting the scarf:

It doesn't convey the sheen of the yarn, or the way my heart does a little flip-flop every time I touch it. But now that I have the pattern, I am going to make a whole dang scarf out of the fingering weight. Maybe by that time I'll be more comfortable with skinny little yarns, that I'll be able to tackle lace weight and not pull out my hair.

March Madness

Sadly, my March Madness has nothing to do with basketball. Work is crazy, with more and more work being piled on us. And my personal time is spent mostly by working on a writing project that my group is desperately trying to make come to fruition. And what little time I have left over I give to sleep, a little reading, and a little knitting.

I knit to and from work while my husband drives. I knit on my breaks and lunch hours. I knit when it isn't my turn typing with the writers' group. And I knit while I am waiting for my turn in the shower in the mornings.

What am I working on? Mostly still the cinema shawl. I really am glad I ripped the whole thing out and started over. I have knit through three balls this second time around, and I think I have just one mistake. (While I always hope for perfection, I also realize I would not want to incur the wrath of the knitting goddess. Athena once turned a woman's children into spiders because she claimed she could weave better than the goddess.)

I am still working on the shawl. It is getting boring. It is straight garter stitch, and I seem to have fallen into the black hole of knitting of which I have heard other speak. I knit. And knit, and knit knit knit knit knit knit knit knitknitknitknitknitknit. And it never seems to grow, or look like I am getting anywhere close to being finished.

I have no pictures of the shawl, and I fear that there may not be any forthcoming anytime soon. I have to work both Saturday and Sunday this weekend. Perhaps when I finally get a day off on Monday I will be able to share photos of my work.

For now, my life seems a blur, and I really hope something will come along soon to let me catch my breath. I'm tired.

Ravelympics completed!

The Olympic officially ended last Sunday, and I finished my Ravelympics project on Saturday. My Kable needle case is complete, and currently housing my 14 inch needles. I am not as pleased as I had hoped. The cables came out lovely, and I like the colors, but the felting did not go as well as I had hoped. I followed the directions carefully too. Maybe I just need more experience with felting. In the directions it told me to weave a length of yarn down both long sides of the piece, and pull them up so they were sort of accordianed. And it worked - on one side. On the other, the yarn broke and the accordian unfolded, and the edge got all rippled.

I have to remind myself that I am still a beginner, and that these things will improve with practice. Which is difficult to do when another part of my brain is screaming, "No! Perfection! Now! NOW!!!"

Sigh. Sometimes being a Virgo isn't so great.

Here is some lovely yarn I purchased:

It is Crystal Palace Merino 5 superwash in the color Violets. (Apparently I am on a purple and green kick as of late.) It is pretty much sock yarn, but I am working on making a shawl out of it. I am using the pattern for the Cinema Shawl from the blog Superknitter. I am using size 9 needles instead of 10.5. I started it last Friday, and I am almost through three skeins of yarn. And what am I going to do? I am going to frog it.

Uch. Such a Virgo.

Why would I do such a thing? It isn't because I don't like the pattern. I do. And it isn't because I don't like the yarn. I certainly do. It is because of all of the stupid mistakes I have made so far. For Lord's sake, this is a garter stitch shawl, and I am dropping stitches all over the place. So now I am going to frog it, start over, and every time I find I have dropped a stitch, I am going to fix it. I need to learn how to do this skill. Si tonight, you will find me ripping up my flawed work to try again.