Knit to Quit makes my house a Beast Free BSJ Zone

Yes, yes, yes, I know. October and my daughter's wedding are quietly creeping up on me. Danger! Danger! Danger! The shawl is woefully behind schedule.  But, the beast is on hiatus for good reason. (Yes, like hurricanes and ships, the beast is a 'she.') This knitter's brain is more hopelessly stuffed with fluff than Pooh Bear's head. Cutting out the nicotine will do that to a person.

However, the beast has little forgiveness for the dumb and dumber mental fuzzies that come with quitting smoking. She's a jealous little wench who wants all of you. And right now all of me is a few attention spans shy of her mark.

Knit to Quit?

Having learned to knit, I can believe that learning to knit pushes one towards a cigarette, not away from them.  I hear that lots of people take up knitting to quit a bad habit like smoking.  Having joined the tobacco repentant crowd for the fourth time in my adult life, I can see the boon of having something to do with your hands instead of reaching for a smoke. But, in my befuddled tobacco free state of mind, the most complicated thing to which I can attend is garter stitch. Thank heavens for the BSJ I cast on for beast relief!

6 days ago

Here's my BSJ before I quit ( I finally figured out how to get pictures up here!):

Today

My BSJ 6 days into my quitfest (ye gods!):

Cute little origami sweater, right? 100% garter stitch is perfect for the quitfest.  What you can't see to the left of the BSJ is my newest quit smoking aid - a drinking straw. After 6 days at ye olde feedbag, it's time to find another way around my oral fixation than food. Drinking whatever floats your boat through a straw tricks your mouth into thinking its smoking when it's not - a handy way to steer clear of the dietary shoals that most of us face at quitting time. And it keeps potato chip crumbs off of my BSJ...

Have you used knitting to quit a bad habit?

A Beast relief expedition: It's a BSJ day or two

I promise I'll figure out a way to get photos up here. Until then, let's chat shall we?

Back in December I cast on my first big project, Susan Pandorf's In Dreams  shawl for my daughter so that I had plenty of time to complete it for her wedding in October. It has come to lovingly be nicknamed "the Beast," for a few reasons. It is my first expedition into knitted lace (brilliant of me, eh?) and has 9 charts, and 2 are always worked at the same time. I love the beast, but it's a big honkin' thing worked in cobweb silk with a bad attitude.

So to maintain my sanity, I go on beast relief expeditions.  Simple projects in larger yarns with at most one chart.  One is another big project, Totally Autumn by Anne Hanson, a gorgeous lacy, leafy afghan in bulky yarn. But I get the "completion urge"  monkey on my back from time to time, so until the Beast is completed I'll always have a third much smaller project going. Which brings us to the BSJ day or two.

I just love Elizabeth Zimmermann's Baby Surprise Jacket (BSJ).  It's an origami baby sweater and a beloved marvel of knitted engineering by the baby knitting brigade.  All garter stitch and only two seams for those of us who'd rather have a root canal than sew up an itty bitty baby sweater. Definitely an attraction for me... the two seams, not the root canal.

The BSJ was my first EZ pattern to knit up. After I saw it for the very first time, it became my very first "I MUST knit this" project for my great nephew. During the knitting, I became convinced it was a trick project she pulled from a topography textbook. You know, that geometry stuff where spheres are really donuts? All I could think as I worked was "How will this turn into a baby sweater?" and "If the knitting gods are kind, they'll turn this sweater-thing into a donut, I can't drink wine and knit at the same time."

But, it turned out to be the smartest pattern decision I ever made. From the shaping, I learned much about just what can really be done with knitting. And the sky and your imagination are the limit to what can be done. From Elizabeth herself - and I paraphrase her here, it may look odd but press on - I learned to TRUST THE PATTERN.

I so fell in love with the BSJ that I made two for my grand nephew, and I just cast on #3 for one of Husband's co-workers who is expecting his 6th child.

What's your favorite go-to pattern for your beast relief expeditions?

Portuguese Knitting

I learned to knit English. And yes, I was grateful to be able to do it, still am. Tortuous, slow, and limiting as it was for me. Knowing that I could do English led me on a search of other ways for me to knit faster and easier. Continental was out (and yes, I tried) because I can't manipulate my right fingers or feed stitches down my right needle. So I kept looking, and am I ever happy that I found Andrea Wong's Knitting Daily TV spot on YouTube. If you're willing to explore new ways of knitting, take a gander at it and give it a go. I think you'll be more than pleasantly surprised.

I sing Andrea's praises to all who will listen.  Visit her at andreawongknits.com for more information. She's a really nice lady. Thank you Andrea!

Lions and Tigers and Knitting Gauge, Oh My!

The gauge swatch, speaking frankly, is the bane of new and not so new knitters everywhere. We knitters chat incessantly over making gauge, not making gauge, whether or not we have to make a swatch. I hear groans from new knitters already - UGH! Do I REALLY have to do that? Can't I just start knitting? 

Well, yes... there are no Knitting Police. But I generally recommend that you start knitting your project with knitting that swatch. Especially if you're new to knitting. Few of us are Elizabeth Zimmermann's, though many of us (myself included) are EZ wannabe's. 

Gauge really does matter

Knowing your knitting gauge (usually quoted in patterns as X sts and Y rows per 4" or X stitches per inch) can answer a multitude of questions that likely never come to mind until you cast on and start working. Until you've worked with a yarn enough to have a feel for how many stitches per inch you'll likely get with a certain size needle as EZ did, a gauge swatch is your playbook for your project. Want to know:

How many stitches should I cast on?
How wide will my project will be? 
How many rows need to be knitted? 
Can I skip that repeat? 
Can I use a variegated yarn to make this?
Will the sweater fit?
How much yarn should I buy? 
Do I even like working this pattern stitch? 

Your gauge swatch gives you these answers. And for a new knitter, the swatch gives you more time on task, and therefore more experience knitting. More time on task and the above list are the pro's of the gauge swatch. The biggest con is that a gauge swatch isn't really usable for anything other than that project, and who wants a bunch of little 4" squares all over the place? Even if you can make a blanket out of them, how many blankets do you really need anyway? The other con is that for slower knitters, knitting gauge swatches to try and make gauge takes time away from your project.

I've picked up a couple of helpful hints over the years to get around the cons that I'll share.

Cotton is King!

To answer the "do I even like working this pattern stitch?"and "how will a variegated look?" questions:

Work your swatch in cotton yarn and make a dishcloth out of it. A ball of cotton worsted is much less expensive to try out a new stitch pattern. If you like how that comes out, the sweater you planned using the stitch pattern will be an enjoyable knit even in a different weight yarn. And you have a nice twofer freebie in the dishcloth.

I will add one caveat here. The colors in variegated yarns pool, sometimes in odd ways. Unless you're using the same cotton yarn for your project and swatch, do your swatch in the yarn for the project. You can always rip it out and reuse it, especially if the yarn is expensive.

Garment pieces can be a gauge swatch

If you're committed to the 'I just HAVE to make this!' sweater, use your sleeves as your gauge swatch. (Thanks, EZ! You were a smart, smart lady...) No little 4" squares cluttering up your place. This works especially well for baby garments, which are small. For larger garments, it can be fairly easy to quickly see if you're even approximating the stitch count per inch you need. In that case, its much less to rip back and start again.

Should I or Shouldn't I swatch?

My general rule of thumb is that there is a difference between having to make gauge and having to know my gauge for a project.

Making Gauge

To knit fitted garments such as socks, sweaters, gloves, mittens, for example from a pattern and have it fit correctly, I have to match the designer's gauge, or "make gauge." If I have to make gauge I always swatch. If I can't make gauge, and still want to do the project, I'll have to break out the calculator and adjust the pattern.  That's an UGH! for another day.

Knowing Gauge

Most other items, such as dishcloths, scarves, hats, afghans, and toys for example, have more leeway. They don't have to be a particular size to be used and loved. For these projects, I measure my gauge in the project pieces themselves, if I even bother.  Sometimes it really doesn't matter. Knowing my gauge is useful if I want to change the dimensions of a project such as making a blanket longer/shorter,  narrowing a scarf, or adding more ribbing to the cuff of a sock. And that can give me enough idea of whether or not I need to buy more yarn, and if so how much.

'Nuff said on gauge. I have some knitting to do today. You probably do too. As EZ said, "Knit on, with confidence and hope, through all crises." Words to live by.

Being grateful isn't just for Thanksgiving

Oh gratitude, that most elusive of human emotions: this one is for you.

My kids will tell you that I can out grinch the Grinch himself. And I can. But I've hit the time of year when I can no longer fail to appreciate the Grinch's miserly heart growing three sizes.

Among many things for which I am grateful, I am immensely grateful that I can hand knit at all. Those of you who are non-knitters and non-yarnies may fail to appreciate the why of it.  Why I at times forget to appreciate it at all, is an absolute mystery to me.

Almost 13 years ago, on 21 December 1998, I had a stroke that rendered me virtually senseless for a very long time, and among many other things, I lost all use of my right hand for 6 months, and have not regained fine motor control of my right hand to this day. Honestly it's unlikely that I ever will. My adaptation was to accept that my right hand was virtually useless.

 I haven't buttoned my blouse with both hands for 13 years.  I haven't typed with two hands in 13 years. There are many, many things I haven't done with two hands in 13 years.

Back in 1998 I was an insane crocheter, a craft requiring the use of fine motor control of both hands. Then BLAM!, that was gone in an instant.  No more crocheted baby clothes, baby blankets. No more crocheted toys or doilies. I missed playing with yarn and thread more than mere words can express. And this loss of a much beloved hobby stayed with me, when I've gotten used to the other losses from the stroke.

Then I discovered machine knitting in 2008, which I could do with my left hand and at most one thumb  from my right hand. Yes, that bad boy works a wee bit now. And I could play with yarn again, which felt like a miracle.

Then in February 2011 over a weekend, I learned I could knit by hand in the English method in a very non-standard way. There are no words to express the ecstasy that came with that discovery. I could finally work with yarn using both hands!

Though I can only physically feel it in my left hand, knitting was and continues to be an incredible emotional experience. I can now reason (reasoning took me a long time to recover) my way through how to accommodate most knitting stitches. And if you watch any knitting videos on YouTube, you'll see what an accomplishment that really is for me without the use of the fingers on my right hand.

There are some things knitted that are impractical for me to do without having the use of the fingers of my right hand. I'm hesitant to say impossible because I'm still learning and figuring things out, though I'm sure there are things I physically can't do. I am a much slower knitter than most, and impossibly slow compared to expert knitters. But I knit all the same, and the quality of my work is impressive. Adapt, improvise, overcome.

Rehab after my stroke taught me the usefulness of the military motto "adapt, improvise, overcome." Relearning how to do the things most take for granted, walking, talking, thinking, reading, dressing all in a new way teaches you that there's not much you can't do with a workaround. You just have to look. However, some things just don't seem to have a workaround. In part, adapting means accepting your limitations.

Accepting limitations is highly useful, but there's a large but. Sometimes that acceptance blinds you to what really can happen through improvisation, and it kills the gratitude. Until February 2011 I'd not realized just how far this motto could take me. By improvising past my adaptation, I learned to overcome.

And I am grateful. So if you hear me relate things to knitting, now you know why. It's gotten so much better since 1998 and 2008. Never, ever let go of the gratitude. It is what keeps you adapting, improvising, and overcoming. Hold on to that.

Get a new hobby, this one is scary

Having recently taken up knitting, I've learned a few things concerning my erstwhile hobby.  It's twisting my brain into contorted positions a yogi could never achieve, even over the course of several lifetimes.

For me knitting is not just a hobby, but a meditative technique that frees my mind to think about well, whatever crosses it.  Most people react to my flights of mental fancy with a polite "get another hobby." That's the only polite thing they can say about how my brain works.

Those two seemingly innocuous stitches, knit and purl, once mastered exert a pull on the psyche only matched in nature by a black hole. The comparison is apt: Knitting is the black hole, and mastery of of those two stitches the event horizon. Once you cross there is no escape. Nevertheless, once inside, you discover a multiplicity of new universes. 

My previous universe was knitting a baby sweater. A kind and comfortable place. My current universe is sock knitting. In practice a sock is just a bent tube that is closed on one end. In my mind it became anything but.

In knitting, I embraced elementary school math by adjusting my gauge because I can't match the gauge of a pattern to save my life. For the average knitter gauge adjustment can feel as intimidating as making the leap from counting to calculus.  At times, just the thought of it is enough to make your eyes roll back into your head and induce a seizure. 

4th grade math was never as important as it is when you realize the gauge swatch you just knit for your sock means said sock would fit a full grown yeti. It only takes ignoring gauge once and knitting one yeti-sized sock before cracking open your child's math text to relearn calculating ratios so that the suckers will fit a real person. Once applied and happily knitting away, that gauge conversion ratio frees my mind for thought exploration.  Be afraid, be very afraid.

In this way the sock universe becomes Borg. You will be assimilated. Resistance is futile.

At a minimum, a knitted sock could probably best be described mathematically as a non linear function that would turn most mathematician's bowels to water. It sure does that to mine. Remember, I just re-embraced  4th grade math?  The series of twists traversed by a single strand of sock yarn worked toe up are mathematically more impressive than the age of the universe. And my mind begins to wander...

The function gently spirals up in size in size from a line of stitches into a cylindrical ovoid encompassing the instep. To become the heel, the function traverses a plane of stitched short rows worked back and forth. It them continues back into cylindrical form, and is ribbed before the function reaches its endpoint.  I wonder what that equation looks like??? Really? Really. Resistance is futile.

As I work steadily away on my sock, observing my work in progress brings me to the brink of mathematics, with the question "why does my sock look like THIS?" The easy answer is that it isn't finished yet. However, knitting a sock from the toe up generates shapes reminiscent of the most incomprehensible of topological transformations.  What n-fold torus can this sock form, hmmm? 

How does a mathematician really see a donut in a coffee cup? The same way I see a finished sock in a ball of yarn, that's how. I don't think Riemann had socks in mind as he worked, but that something as simple as knitting a sock can bring topological transformations to mind says a great deal about the power of both math and knitting. 

Maybe mathematicians could answer the big questions about the universe investigating socks... 

And all of this came from calculating a gauge conversion. No wonder it scares knitters.

 I'm often told "get another hobby." Now you can see why. Resistance is futile.

Thank you, Anne Rice

Anne Rice has publicly proclaimed what so many of us have privately held for so long: that the Church and/or Christianity no longer walks the walk it demands of it's followers, if it ever did. I've had much the same discussion with friends and family over the years, with much the same result she has received from the christian religious - a stunned "How can you say you're not a Christian?" My response to that question is simply this. I draw a line between what I believe and what I know. I can believe something that is impossible for me to directly know,or experience, whereas I cannot know something that is impossible for me to experience.Where spirituality is concerned I believe many things to be true. Our existence after death in some form is one of them. Do I know this for sure? Absolutely not, as I am still alive to write this. Treating others the way I wish to be treated, absolutely I believe this. And I know from experience that acting on this belief generally works better than the alternative.

There can be a tremendous difference between belief and knowledge. Believing something to be true and knowing through experience that it is true is one thing . Holding something as true while doing the exact opposite is hypocrisy, and a different matter entirely.  Historically, Christianity has preached one thing, love for God and neighbor, while acting in the exact opposite manner. And it continues to do so. This is the crux of Anne's argument. The fact that individuals have sometimes done great and good things in the name of God for their fellow man does not excuse an institution itself for poor behavior.

Is this a secular humanist argument against organized religion? Perhaps, but perhaps not. I would say that it's more a matter of calling a spade a spade.