More sweet things found – from the family archives circa 1987.
Love you hon.
Riddle me this – my next sweater design – coming soon.
More sweet things found – from the family archives circa 1987.
Love you hon.
Riddle me this – my next sweater design – coming soon.
We had Sunday dinner at Ellie and Mark's yesterday and its end-of-summer timing was just right for distribution of Hoss holiday gift giving assignments – our annual event.
This gift pick toy commemorates a year of special generosity and selflessness, as we witnessed our Sheryl's kidney donation to her aunt Dianne. Approaching their 6 month anniversary, both are doing well and we're grateful.
With another sweater design in the wings, off I went to the family archives in search of its name, a familiar drill by now. As I've mentioned before, Marlene saved everything, and it's during these name hunting episodes that I often find myself – for better or for worse – on trips down memory lane. This time, I ventured into the dreaded card box. And this time, I finally took the time to see what exactly I had there.
Diving in, I found lots of correspondence – between my mum and her girlfriends, from her brother Sonny, thank you letters from great aunt Hilda, cards from my grandmother Mildred to my newly married parents, congratulations on my birth, some of my childhood artwork – all very fun to be sure – but most delightful to me, as I categorized each set and sorted by year, was realizing that my parents shared valentines every year of their 4-plus decades together. A sampling follows.
And this was the last. Dad died the following year.
It's nice to know, amidst all the ups and downs there most surely were in their lives over the years, that the backdrop was this.
Paying homage to their romance, Be Mine will be the name of my next sweater design – a September valentine delivery. I'll post and tweet upon its release.
Update – Be Mine published 9/20/2017
Although I may not know what day it is on any given week (since leaving my 9-to-5 they do tend to blur), I am clear about my goals for each day and importantly, how much knitting time will be allowed. I'm a planner, aiming to launch one design a month, and of the many things I've learned over these past few years, most prominent is to make the plans but hold them loosely. I've come to let the knitting gods take lead. It's been a hard fought lesson at times to be sure as I struggle to stay visible on the internet's indie designer landscape, but ridiculous to resist. The beauty is in the process, I tell myself. The rest just happens as it does.
Last January Laura was among my tasks at hand, plucked from my pattern rewrite to-do list (a list that now numbers an ambitious 34). I know this because I track my time – a hold-over from my days working IT for customer billing. I'm my own customer now and I like to see where I've been. In January I had taken a step in Laura's direction, then retreated as Lucy, Ethel, Happy Thought, and finally Robin's Song designs came into view, one after the other. I had gone along with their flow and it was April before I was able to circle back. Created in 2013, I knew Laura's pattern text would benefit from the tweaks to format, abbreviations and phrasing I'd undertaken since my Linda scarf publication by Quince & Co. I'd learned a lot from them and since, have been determined to perfect all designs that had come before it. I would now give Laura's rewrite a week and happily check it off before embarking on a yet-to-be-determined new design offering for May.
I started with her sleeves – such delightful lace – and noticed how instructions would be so much more sensible if the shaping was worked on the wrong side rows instead of the right, away from the complexity of the stitch pattern. I revised the math slightly, and just to be sure, reknit one as sample using some Chickadee wool I had on-hand (2 skeins of the parsley color, a very nice green, leaving 2 more in the drawer). The sleeve was perfect. I put it to the side and continued.
Since charting the shaping of this lace would provide a reassuring double-check on my text and be helpful to the knitter, next I went off on that. It turned out to be definitely useful and a worthwhile pursuit, but for all 7 sizes, tragically time consuming for my plan. By now my self-allotted time limit for Laura's rewrite was pretty much up and I was growing anxious to have a new design underway. I tabled Laura – promising myself that it was only until I posted the next design. I would return to it then and get it checked off my list.
Laura begot Farrah
With calculations for Laura's sleeves all worked out and charted, it made sense to jump from these. I paired them with the simplicity of Lucy's cropped cardigan, still fresh in my mind, reusing its shape in the hopes of saving some time with measurements. I imagined the design (that I would eventually name Farrah) in a soft pink, and placed an order with Quince & Co. for more Chickadee wool, in their shell color this time. Then I started writing out the pattern. Working from completed pattern text and making edits along the way, is much more enjoyable to me than stopping to calculate, write, and restart. I've done it both ways and definitely have a preference. By the time the wool arrived the pattern was ready and knitting commenced. And after several focused days the bodice was done and blocking. It was then I saw the flaw – the side shaping/lace conflict that could not remain. I unraveled it back to its hemline and while waiting for these curly strands to relax, began knitting the sleeves with the unused skeins I had left. Fast forwarding through the tale of a few more trials, the third turned out to be the charm for finally getting things right. May delivery gave way to Farrah's early June publication, and my familiar monthly design delivery angst persisted. Despite my plan, Laura remained tabled.
Farrah begot Uncloudy Skies
Betting on the promise of a second June release to catch up on my publishing quota, and remembering that perfect parsley green sleeve... is how Uncloudy Skies, my next and most recent design, got started. I took its name from a Willie Nelson song off of one of Marlene's CDs. Making use of my stashed yarn was a plus so I ordered 3 more parsley skeins of Chickadee to supplement those I had left. With 1 sleeve done, I planned to knit up another with available wool and take it from there. While waiting for delivery I began the pattern.
I soon realized that I couldn't be sure of its length at this initial stage, which is a problem when you're working from the hem to the neckline. So I turned my plan upside down. Working the pattern top-down (neckline to hem) – the logical creative choice for my uncertainty – now required new math, new charts, and no time saved. I unraveled and reknit that perfect sleeve from cap to cuff. Then I knit the next one.
When the supplemental yarn arrived, I found, to my dismay, that its dye lot difference was dramatic. That happens. The original skeins were bought a long time before. I took a shot at alternating strands in the hopes of a gradual blending but got stripes, so resorted instead to color blocking. The sleeves would remain in the original lighter green along with the upper bodice, while the lower bodice and trim would be worked in the new darker shade. I allowed the yarn I had left of the original lot to dictate the bodice's lace point transition – that serendipitously turned out to occur at a point just below the waist where I initially imagined it would. Knitting gods?
After blocking, assembling, trimming, and steaming, I tried on the now finished version again (there had been numerous try-ons along the way). Something wasn't right, but what? Then I realized it was the neckline. With further tucking, pinning, and brainstorming, I finally just turned the damn thing around making the back the front – yes, we can count this among my hard fought learning episodes – and viola! A simple gesture, that revealed a chic solution, required only a brief pattern rewrite but A COMPLETE RESTART. Knitting gods.
I reordered wool, this time in the Bird's Egg blue (a better, though unintended, match for its name) and reknit the whole thing. It's just right this time, I'd say, finally right, and Uncloudy Skies publication is planned for next week. I'll update this post and send out a tweet upon its release.
Laura's rewrite is still next on the list, but I'll see how it goes. The beauty is in the process, I tell myself. The rest will just happen as it does.
Update – Uncloudy Skies published 7/17/2017.
Hi my Nan,
How are you today? I couldn't let the day go by without a big hello and hug from me. And with today being your birthday, well, it has to be an extra big hug and hello. All of your family and friends are here with me and we're all celebrating you today and remembering how special you are. And because you are so special to me, I wanted to write you this letter to let you and everyone know how wonderful our story is, and how thankful I am for you.
Think of this letter as one of a string of the emails we would exchange throughout our day. This one might be a little longer than the one you wrote to me on September 15, 2008 at 10:16 pm that simply said, "thinking of you... hoping all is well... love you always, Nan"
And the subject matter of this letter might be a little more serious than when you emailed, "just bought 7 items in Filenes Basement for $127... not bad eh? xoxoxo" on July 27, 2007 at 11:55 am.
I also hope that as you hear this letter it will cause far less confusion on your end than on mine when on April 27, 2006 at 9:29 am you wrote, "Hi my hon... just heard the most interesting news... a cat in China just gave birth to a puppy. The rest of the litter were kittens. Now how funny is that. xoxoxo"
But just like all of those emails, this letter helps me say hello to you and let you know in this free minute of my day that I'm thinking of you and wanting to connect with you even though we may be in different places. The beautiful thing about correspondence like this letter or our emails is that the feelings written within them never fade and that each time stamp has the ability to record a moment in our story so well. So whenever either one of us is missing the other, we can reread them and be reminded of all the xoxoxo's exchanged throughout the years.
This is how Juliet began her eulogy for Marlene on July 1, 2009 in front of family and friends.
This letter is not meant to grieve your passing or to dwell on the awful sickness that took you from us. While those are all important emotions that I and everyone here have no doubt felt, this is my love letter to you, one in which I get the chance to reflect back to you all the love you've given me over the last 29 years, and express my gratitude for having had you in my life. I know that with all the love and gratitude I am shining on you – that we are all shining on you today – you will be the brightest and most radiant Nan out there, visible to everyone in this chapel and beyond, and will continue to shine as long as we remember.
If I were to explain the story of you and me to someone else, I would have to divide it into 3 chapters. The first chapter would be about the first way that I knew you: as my grandmother. You made everything special. You let me have Fruit Roll-ups when my parents would not. You brought me to Canobie Lake Park and Water Country in the summertime. And when we played miniature golf you stood with your feet positioned so that my ball would always land in the hole no matter how bad my aim. You spoiled me on holidays and at birthdays. You loved whatever gift I presented to you at Christmas and always said, "Well this will have to go in a very special place in my house." And it always did. You took me bathing suit shopping every spring. I can't get rid of any of them, so seriously, I have a drawer full of like 15 or so. You always sent me a valentine. For my 25th birthday you gave up your engagement ring and allowed my mom to use the stone for the necklace I'm wearing today. And together with my parents, you were my biggest fan, and supported me when I decided to change careers.
As our story continued and I grew older, I got to know you in a different way. You were still always my grandmother, and became my friend. However unconventional it was for a grandmother and granddaughter to become real friends, we didn't care. We enjoyed each other's company. We could talk about anything and keep each other's secrets. We would have one of our little chats, as you named them, over lunch or on our way to the movies. You accepted me for who I was, and it was a rare day that we didn't talk on the phone or email. We gossiped, traded tips on which store had the best jeans or which actress had the best haircut. We danced together at family parties, toasted over glasses of wine, had spa day, and when we quarreled, which was rare, you would wait until I was done with my rant, look at me, pause for a second, smile and say, "You know, I really just love the way you did your eye makeup today my hon. You must show me how you did that." And at that moment all I could do was smile back, forgetting whatever I had been mad about, and tell you that I used brown pencil instead of just powder.
The latest chapter in our story started not long before you got sick and is the role that I know will continue to live on. Nursing school was especially stressful for me and I was living alone in New York for the majority of it. Whenever I had an exam or assignment that would stress me out I would tell you and you would say, "Well don't worry. I'm your guardian angel and will send lots of good vibes from Massachusetts while you're taking your test, so it will surely go well." It sounds crazy, but it always worked. If I was stuck on a particular question all I had to do was stop, take a deep breath and know you were thinking of me. You once wrote, "Hi my hon, tonight is the big exam. I got up especially early this morning to start sending you good vibes, so you will have nothing to worry about." I surely would never have made it through school without you. If it's okay, I'll still think of you as my guardian angel, only now you aren't so far from me.
And so my Nan, though my heart is broken knowing that our little chats over lunch and birthday celebrations will now exist only in my memory, I feel better thinking of you in a brighter place; that you are relaxed, comfortable, and free from pain and nausea. I know where ever you are, you have a big glass of white wine with ice cubes and are listening to Willie Nelson or Whitney Houston. Maybe you have just completed a long walk by the water and have noticed all the birds and fish along the way, or perhaps have just finished up 30 minutes on your rowing machine and are energized to start your day. Maybe you are seated at a table on the porch with Fafa at sunset and are catching up with your parents and brother on all the events they've missed since you last saw them. Or maybe you are even trading stories with Farrah Fawcett, someone you've felt connected to, who shares your beauty and your strength. Where ever you are, please know this. I think of you every day and keep you with me always. You are my grandmother, my friend, and my heart. I only hope that one day, I am fortunate enough to share with my granddaughter a love as special and true as ours.
My daughter takes my breath away. So does Marlene.
Farrah published 6/1/2017.
I aim to always have something ready to knit. It's embedded in our routine, mine and Doug's – during morning coffee in front of the news and at the end of the day, as you can see.
So when a design is launched without the next yet coming into view, I look for something simple but meaningful to bridge the gap. This last time, the filler became my Happy Thought cowl – named for an optimistic, one line poem I found in my tattered copy of A Child's Garden of Verses, a gift from great aunt Lillian Hildegarde, on my bookshelf since day one.
At the time, still fresh in my mind was the collar of Brooklyn2. I loved the density of its aran-weight wool (Quince & Co's Osprey) and the fact of its buttons that snugged it close to the neck, or not, if left undone. So, with yarn on hand from my Mary design of a few years ago, I made this – version 1 (as it turns out. I didn't expect its versions would be multiple.)
I can be a color coward, I admit it, and this proved true again with my recently published Lucy cardigan. I loved the blended Juniper Moon Farm Moonshine yarn and had been drawn to their Sun Haze color, but in the end I caved, settling instead on the still lovely but less adventurous Moonbeam. So, with golden color beckoning, and seizing my chance at redemption while still noodling indecision about my next something, I recalculating stitch and row gauges accordingly, for this – version 2.
A perfect designing segue, I'd say, and a win-win-win for me and Doug.
I'm excited to report that my new textured cardigan – dubbed Listening to the Robin's Song – is nicely underway. I'm hoping that Cat Stevens won't mind the reference. EPD (estimated publishing date) is expected sometime in April. I'll post and tweet upon its release.
Update – Listening to the Robin's Song published 4/21/2017.
My design ideas have been coming up in pairs lately, where discoveries made in the first spawn revisions and additions in the next. And although I do enjoy the opportunity to go back at the math and construction in a second go-round, I admit that it hadn't been my initial plan. It's just what happened along the way and accounts for the lame naming of Brooklyn2 following the previously published Brooklyn – alas.
So when I saw it happening again in my current design duet I decided to get out in front of it by determining a family sourced name pair from the start.
This is a favorite family photo – my parents, Bern and Marlene on the left, with my aunt Kay and uncle Clem (aka Junior or Luke) at a night club somewhere. I enjoy this point-in-time glimpse into their lives, and imagining them then. It's 1951, Marlene was 20 and working full-time at a Boston insurance company. They married the following year.
I remember Dad would happily recount how she'd laugh out loud watching I Love Lucy on TV during those years and I like to think of that. Watching those early episodes gives great insight into the society of the times and the roles of men and women – a time when a clear hierarchy existed between the sexes. During those years most women gave up jobs and became homemakers after marriage, but Marlene wanted a career. So bucking the tide and amidst some gossip (I'm told), she continued working. By the time of her retirement years later she had become a beloved fixture and integral member of the staff of the Harvard Athletic Department.
I know she never felt that she had achieved the career status she wished for, but she was definitely ahead of her time. I hope she found pride in that, and for being a terrific role model for me – this yet another in the myriad of things I should have told her.
Lucy and Ethel – 2 button-less garter stitch cardigans with shrug and wrap-around variations – are currently underway. Updates to follow.
Although I continue to design exclusively for the big girls, I'm happy (eager, actually) to turn over the reins and knit up the designs of others on occasion, for my Violet.
Anything she ever wants – ever. How could I possibly resist.
And speaking of the big girls, I look forward to having my sweater model back again, soon. Juliet, your public awaits – me too :).
Amidst the myriad of changes that have happened in 2016 – the birth of my granddaughter (oh hooray!) and the presidential election (omg!), to name a few – is another, worthy of note. My daughter sold her Brooklyn co-op.
She bought it a while after graduating from college. At the time there were good reasons for her to move there – a job opportunity, friends in Manhattan, new adventures; and some undeniable reasons for procrastination – the unknowns of a new job and city, leaving the comfort of family, and most of all, living alone. I knew she was up to it, and admired, I suppose, the freedom for reinvention she had at that stage of her life. So, in response to her announcement that she would move only if she purchased a place, off we went. That weekend we made the trip, found her co-op, she made an offer, and the deal was done. Unexpected? – oh yes.
That was 2005. I remember our surreal drive from Boston for her move, and making our way back home without her. Marlene used to say that our children bring us along and I balked then at the concept. I see the truth to it now. She moved in and never looked back. As for me, I got the gift of seeing my daughter flourish and visited as often as I could without becoming a nuisance, happily experiencing this new, now favorite city for myself. Yes, I've definitely been brought along.
Where will she take me next? Where ever it is, I'm in.
Continuing my homage to life events – pattern writing for my latest knit design, a cardigan named Brooklyn, is currently underway. Publication is planned for next week, updates to follow.
Update – Brooklyn published 11/30/2016.
Now that I'm a grandmother I've been thinking more about being one. Honestly, it hadn't occurred to me before this – my daughter becoming a mom took precedence over all of my thinking.
In the few weeks before new baby Violet's birth, and during the several that have followed, I've been asked what she will call me – hmm, more uncharted territory. Does one pick a name, or is it chosen for her. My google search yielded:
Modern names for grandmothers include Ama, GoGo, Gigi and Mimi. Grandmothers choose modern names to symbolize that they are young and cool, and avoid traditional names such as Granny and Grandma. They choose unique names to distinguish themselves from other grandmothers.
And being young and cool... one of my pals has started calling me Gigi. I find this hysterical.
From postcard correspondence I see that Marlene's grandmother was Nana. My own was Nanny. I don't know how either name came to be and Mum's gone now so I can't ask. (Regrettably, this happens a lot. I thought I knew it all.) Mum was a Nanny too, that got shortened to Nan later on by her then adult granddaughter.
So for now, I guess I'll be a Nanny or Nana or Nan, until Violet decides. I'm sure she'll pick one that rings just right.
The Hoss clan had dinner together last night, celebrating Ellie and Mark as they get ready to head back home to West Virginia after our usual summer of fun. With all of us in attendance it was the perfect setting to distribute this year's paper toys for holiday giving assignments, so I hustled to get them done, finishing up finally on the car ride to Scituate.
The panorama that wraps each was taken at one of our parties on Ellie and Mark's ocean-view front porch, and hints at the happy craziness that's gone on there over the years.
But this time their departure is different. They're packing up everything and clearing out – on to new adventures. After a lifetime of ownership they've sold their cottage and won't be returning to it. They will, however, be returning to us, for more happy crazy times, where ever we are. We'll make sure of that.
Yes, I'm definitely feeling nostalgic these days. Looking backward while moving forward – my usual state – has been made more-so by a combination of summer dreaming, impending grand-motherhood, and my significant family tree research of late now that son-in-law James has introduced his additional and excitingly deep lineage to explore. I'm channeling Dad (Bernard Henry) now in my effort to get our family history documented, all neat and tidy for our new baby girl. BH would surely approve.
So recently, while conjuring up a new knit, the spirit of my great aunt Lillian Hildegarde joined in. B is for Betsy was her chapter book gift to my mum Marlene in the 1940's, that eventually made its way to me in the 60's, and then to Juliet in the 80's. Its current state, as shown, now complete with the markings from 3 generations of bedtime reading and a vintage DYMO embossed ownership label (I found its name on the internet), has over the years provided hours of parent-child quality time, the familiar names of all of our pets, and most recently that of my latest knit design, just published.
Flipping through its pages while preparing this post I came across its chapter 8 – How Betsy Went to Pick Violets and Got Into Trouble. I had to laugh. Could this book have been the subliminal source of my new granddaughter's name as well?? Okay, kidding – since its source is obviously the heavenly reach of Juliet's paternal grandmother, Lavalie Bixby Hoss, who long ago claimed the flower as her favorite. It all makes perfect sense to me. That's how I roll.
V is for Violet Mae, born August 6th – my future sweater model, or protégé perhaps, if she'll agree.
It's summer now (here in the northern hemisphere, anyway). I'm in the process of working out my next knit design and having a déjà vu moment.
As a teenager, many of my summer days were spent swimming in the pool that Dad put up in our back yard, sun-tanning (too much), thumbing through the pages of the fat, fall, fashion magazines that hit the newsstands during July and August, and imagining all the school clothes I would make. This was bliss.
While it's always been true that my great, great aunt Hattie figured prominently into my interests – it was her 1940's era sewing machine that I started out on, and her knitting needles too that I still use – as I focus on the details of this latest piece, I find myself remembering a sweet, knitted, eyelet shell that Marlene made for me back then. It wasn't like her. She didn't particularly like knitting or making things at all really. Yet it's this delicate piece of hers that inspires me now. I think she'd be shocked – and delighted.
I'm forever 14.
and we're having a party to celebrate – a shower, this weekend!
My labor of love?
I've got a new knit design underway, a pair of cowls, and the set needs a name – a task I sometimes find more challenging than working out the design itself. Keeping consistent in combining my interests (all my designs' names have a family link), I turned once again to Marlene's archives – this time, specifically, her greeting card collection. She kept them all, every one she ever received, or so it seems.
Years ago, while taking stock of her possessions, I had grouped these, tied them up with twine, and stashed them in the plastic bins that now occupy the corner of my workroom. My knit-design-name-searching gives me reason and motivation to revisit these bundles, and doing so I often rediscover family events I've forgotten or learn things I never knew. This time, among valentines and birthday cards, I came across 3 postcards, out of place – from Dad.
As a young man Dad worked in a sheet metal shop at the Charlestown Navy Yard. He made pipe fittings. I'm not exactly sure what these are, but over time he parlayed this work experience, coupled with his innate neatness and attention to detail, and moved from the making of these things to the planning of their placement on big naval ships. By the 1970's he found himself traveling to ports around the world on shipchecks.
I miss my girls too much to be away alone. They were 20 years into their marriage by then. I was 17. He didn't travel without her again. The very next month photos find them together in London, the next year in Rome and Paris, and in the years that followed in many more European and Island destinations. It's nice to see them smiling back at me in the photo below, from somewhere in Italy. They lived well, and happily.
Its name now known, my cowl set – You & You Too – is forthcoming. I'll update this post and send out a tweet upon its release.
Update – You & You Too published 5/13/2016.
The name of my latest design (almost literally) fell into my lap as I was working with Mum's postcards. While sorting through I found this one among them – a message from then teen-aged Marlene, writing home to her family.
Always on the lookout for a family story to apply to my knits, the irresistible Miss Me Yet became its name even before any of its design details came into view. Then most of these came easily too. And that never happens.
Juliet's Openwork Mitts spawned its lace. The stitch count repeat in multiples of 6 was easily translated to the rib trim variations of its hems, pocket tops, and button lap, and provided elegant hiding places for the invisible shaping of its bodice.
Knit in the round, from the cuffs up, I worked out something entirely new while shaping the sleeves. Increasing only 1 stitch on the round instead of 2 eliminated the visual jog, spiraled nicely, and was an easier story for knitters trying to follow my directions – something I value as much as the design itself.
The stitch pick-up count of a button lap is often more science than art. Too many stitches and it bulges badly, too few and it pulls upward. Aiming at just right I had the additional self-imposed mandates of a count that was divisible by 3 (to match the rhythm of the lace) plus 2 more (for a clean edge), and 4 buttonholes that needed to be spaced evenly from v-neck base to hem. In addition to all of this, but held on the way-back burner for the moment, was my wish that as the 3x3 ribbing joined with the back neckline, its sequence would match the pattern of the stitches that were held there. Too much to ask? Mathematically possible, but in my experience, unlikely – and yet all of this, including the long-shot of the back neckline segue, worked out on my very first try for all 7 sizes.
Serendipity? Sure, but in this case I prefer to employ a bit of magical thinking.
8 glorious test knitters from New Jersey, Texas, Washington, Denmark, Germany, and India are working as I write this to prove out my calculations and check my text. I'll plan to publish in late April once they're done.
I have a good feeling about this one, an angel on my shoulder. And to answer the question posed by its title – yes, Marlene, we surely do.
Update – Miss Me Yet published 4/23/2016.
I discovered Marlene's postcard album when I was going through her things. I was in a hurry then so bundled them up, and they've been sitting on my shelf since. Recently I circled back.
She collected postcards when she was a girl during the 1940's and continued through the 50's. It was either the rage to send cards back then or widely known that she collected, since there are several hundred in the bunch. Probably both are true. She had them to and from friends and family (among them Hattie, Hilda, Mildred, Martha, and Mitzi – for those who follow my sweater designs).
All delightfully vintage and visually interesting for that, of equal treasure, especially for me, are their backs. I saw where they lived through delivery addresses and their hand in their writing. Reading through I met my mum as a girl and a teenager, and my grandmother Mildred younger than when I knew her. I met my great-grandmother Martha too, for the first time.
Included among this vintage set, was one a little less so. At the very end of the postcard pile I found this.
Apparently I felt the need to clarify as sender.
I've put aside my knitting for the past several days to make their container as these cards are box-worthy for sure –
– keeping kindred spirits alive.
Among several tasks on my excellent, new, to-do tracking system for last week, there was only one real priority – to re-publish my May design (that I posted about a few weeks ago in Catching Up). The task seemed do-able.
It's true that what started out as a simple rewrite to modify yarn and add metrics had taken a turn when I decided to redevelop it to be knit in the round instead of flat and embed its shaping invisibly inside the cable stitch pattern instead of at its edges. Then the gauge of my new yarn, Quince's cotton Willet, turned out to be slightly different than its obsolete predecessor and required a bunch of recalculations. But by now I had made great progress on the bodice, and had only to trim the neckline and work the ever-so-short cap sleeves. Then I'd be done. Re-publishing within the week seemed do-able and I would happily check this off of my list!
Cotton is less elastic than wool, and because of this, I found out, tends to be less forgiving in some aspects of sweater-making, such as picking up stitches along the deep v-neckline of May for its rib trim. The stitch counts my calculations told me I needed left noticeable gaps, and after a few trials I determined that the problem lay in the absence of a selvage along this neckline. Since the v starts below the armholes and the piece is knitted bottom-up and now in the round, this remedy required both sides of the bodice front and its back to be unraveled down to this start point. I took a breath, did this, and began again.
After 2 days of re-knitting, with my neckline now complete with selvage, I gave it another go – with the same disappointing result, unfortunate gaps along the pick up edge. I took a few more breaths, (I did breathe in between these trials, but hardly), unraveled for the second time, re-knitted it as it was, and while I was doing so thought hard about another solution.
In my third attempt, I tried a method I'd read about but hadn't used before. With smaller needles I picked up a stitch in every row along the front v edges – many more stitches than I needed, but with no gaps. On the trim round that followed where I introduced the knit 1, purl 1 rib, along these front v edges I modified the sequence as knit 1, purl 2 together to decrease these extra stitches away. Finally, success!
4 days later.. so much for planning.
Among several tasks on my new to-do tracking system for this week, there is only one real priority – to re-publish May. The task seems do-able.
Update – revised May finally re-published 1/15/2016.
With holidays now over I can post about my gift to the new couple that was most certainly a labor of love. Digital images are just fine, but I wanted Juliet and James to have something in their hands, to hold, when they reminisce about their wedding weekend.
Using Artisan State, I made 6 layflat books where landscape-positioned photos (most shot by Fat Orange Cat Studio) each span across 2 open pages. See more details about this project here. (I heartily recommend both vendors, btw, for book making and wedding photography, respectively.)
Once the photo books were in hand it was clear they could use a case, and that's when my project took the unexpected turn of opening up the world of my not-that-distant past (which sometimes feels like a lifetime ago) and re-igniting my interest on that front. In addition to knitting over the years I've had fun making books and boxes to present personal collections of photos and objects. When I left my administrative job at Harvard I intended to focus all attention on these. I don't recall when or how my interests shifted and knit design took center stage – where it remains – but it will likely have to share a little of the spotlight for my attention from this point on.
Venturing into my wedding box project, after all this time I had to remind myself about the technical details. My glue containers, labeled with dates to track shelf life, told me it had been 5 years since I touched them. I also soon realized that I needed to find new sources for some materials. Paper Source, once great for book artist supplies is now more of a gift store. And although Blick carries book cloth, its sheets are very small and weren't suitable for the project. A google search yielded Harcourt Bindery in Charlestown that sells supplies along with fabulous hand bound books for all purposes, and a trip to their studio workspace reminded me why I loved this craft. I walked away with a sheet of book cloth large enough to wrap my dimensions twice, and renewed inspiration to get started. The project also motivated me to take an inventory of where I'd been. Here's some of what I found.
5 years ago, I left 2 projects underway – Watch Boxes (a collection of the 24 wrist watches Marlene and I had saved over the years) and Postcards (postcard correspondence collected by my mum during the 1930's and 40's).
I'll aim to get back to these, finally, in the new year.
Wow, I didn't mean to let so much time go by since my last post. No excuses though, I have been (happily) busy. In this 3 month interim I've published M's Favorite, Mad's Gift, and Mitzi, and revised Corinne – adding a smaller cowl in the process. I've also been working out a journal system for keeping track of all of this craziness, with a to-do list that starts out with
so, ya, my bad – until now.
As I've written previously, I'm driven (since working with quince&co on Linda) to update my patterns with metrics and Quince's formatting terminology and language. Starting with my early designs (first public offerings in 2010-11) this review sometimes goes beyond the surface and I find myself tweaking other things. The latest in my revision queue is May.
May was designed with Classic Elite's Wool Bam Boo (50% Wool, 50% Bamboo), my go-to yarn at that time, that has since been discontinued. So embedded in this task is an opportunity to try something new. Juliet's birthday gift to me this year was a gift certificate to quince&co. Starting there and checking for comparable gauge I discovered their Willet, a sport-weight cotton. I find it thrilling that they are environmentally conscious, and this cotton yarn, billed as cleaner, is also quite lovely to work with. I'm swatching now for my revised May to be followed next by pattern #128, as yet unnamed but with design coming into focus.
More to come, sooner than the last round. I promise.