Transitions

August is a month of transition for me.  (I was going to append ‘this year’ to that sentence, but realized that this has been true for every August for the last seven years).  Amoeba and I are both searching for jobs and preparing to move to Chicago. Everything is hanging in the air, and the preparations move slowly, and at some point, they’ll kick into high gear. We don’t have a set move date (or an apartment); we don’t know when that time will come.

Everything is transitioning. I’m cleaning out the contents of my childhood bedroom. I’m analyzing the gender(s) of my wardrobe. The books I’m reading are from the selected unpacked few. The knitting projects are small and fleeting, so they don’t become too distracting. I’ve been knitting washcloths. I’ve been enjoying knitting washcloths.

I was going to spend August knitting on fairly minor projects, getting small things finished so that I could start a couple of sweaters and large shawls this fall. Of course, when Amoeba and I went camping near Duluth a couple of weeks ago, and I found these lovely colours, and started another Daybreak.

I knit Daybreak a while back, and have never been completely happy with the tension along the edge with the color changes.  It won't lay flat, and it's the sort of bunching that blocking won't fix. This time, I threw in some extra yarn overs (and dropped them) to loosen things up, but it turns out that the tension problem is actually happening every time I change colors; my fix isn’t helping. So as of tonight, we’re back to yarn.

I’m still madly into this color combination and have full confidence that it will turn into something impressive.  However, I’ve come to an alarming conclusion: There is probably a time for washcloths. That time is probably now.

Finish and Begin

January and February have been quite cold, which for me has meant a lot of staying inside, burrowing in blankets, and sometimes, knitting. (When your head is the only body part warm enough to be outside the blankets, it's hard to knit, hence knitting being only a sometimes activity.)

This is what it looks like outside.

Last weekend, I finally got around to weaving in the ends on several projects that had been waiting for this process for months. I always manage to convince myself that I hate the tediousness of finishing. Projects pile up for months, and I try to tackle them in one big heap. A few projects in, I find myself kind of enjoying the process. I swear to myself that I'll remember this the next time I bind off something new, but I know I'll forget, and we'll do this whole dance all over again sometime in August.

So I'm just going to show you the pictures, and let's not talk about how I had worn four of these items outside of the house with loose ends blowing in the wind, okay?

First, we have the cowl/hat/mitten set that I knit for myself so I could have warm things to subject to smoky bars. I used Kamteks Argentinian Wool for the set, I think three skeins of the grey and one of the red.

Purl Ridge Scarf, by Stephen West

Botanic Hat, by Stephen West

Red and Black Celtic Gloves, by Tuulia Salmela

Next up, three shawls which were finished in April, July, and November, respectively.

Lilac Leaf Scarf, by Nancy Bush (from Knitted Lace of Estonia)

in Zitron Filigran

Diamond Triangular Shawl, by Galina Khmeleva

in Misti Alpaca Lace Solids

Vernal Equinox Shawl, by Lankakomero

in Moscow Yarn Company Искра (Iskra)

Last, we have a set of mitts that I designed, using the general idea of Stephen West's Clockwork (and later realized, is quite similar to his Botanic Hat above).

Off the Clock Mitts, by fecknom

in Troitsk Yarn Люкс (Deluxe)

This weekend, I've managed to finish the Firmaments Lace Shawl by Bonnie Sennott, which is purple and needs blocking before it will look impressive enough to be properly photographed. The only other project still on my needles is a lace scarf (from the beloved Knitted Lace of Estonia) that was put on hold after I somehow didn't knit the to-be-attached edging the same width as the scarf. A few West Wing episodes should take care of that, and I'm hoping to kick off the week with something new, which will be very exciting.

After much consideration, I've decided that the alpaca sweater will be no more. I've been wanting to knit this for three years now, and for me, there is so much emotion and value wrapped up in that yarn. The hopes for the end result were incredibly high, and there is no way that a sweater made out of 100% alpaca will be flattering enough and wearable enough to satisfy those expectations. In the end, I realized that it's much more important for that yarn to become something I can be proud of, than for it to become a sweater I'm proud of. (Furthermore, my colorwork skills still aren't quite where they need to be for a sweater.)

So this week I'll be frogging what's been knit so far, and casting on for Stephen West'sChadwick. Girasole (by Jared Flood) will follow.

Even more importantly than the end result, the yarn has been slowly turning into emotional baggage. I have trundled along with this yarn in tow from Ohio to Minnesota to Chicago to Minnesota to Russia, and I can't bear to leave Russia with this still in the same, unknit, unsuccessful form it was in when it arrived. Progress must be made, and it's finally happening.

С новым годом!

I welcomed the New Year in what might be an untraditional way (mostly alone, albeit communicating with people far away), but I made sure to do it in the company of strangers.

In addition to witnessing the buildup of the countdown, cheers, well wishes, and dancing (to ABBA, of course), I have also been settling in with this project. I'm quite pleased with how it's turning out, even if I had envisioned being farther into it by the beginning of 2012.

С новым годом, друзья!

Happy New Year, dear friends!

You have meant so much to me this year, and I look forward to spending 2012 with you.

Break in a Five-Item List - Days 3 and 4

Monday, 26 December:

1. Missed out on a drag show. Fortunately, I got to say hi to all the friends who were on the correct continent and could be there.

2. Knit, and was pleased.

3. Watched Make the Yuletide Gay (and knit). Pretty cute. Even the Minnesota/Wisconsin accents.

4. Skype date!

5. Walked through a windy night to collect B's apartment key and say goodbye/serve as moral support about calling the taxi company. (B: notice that none of those words we looked up helped. You would have been fine without unearthing the dictionary. Confidence!)

Tuesday, 27 December:

1. Knit. (Pretty sure this will be on almost every day)

2. Naps!

3. Visited the bank, about half an hour too late to do everything I needed, but it did allow me to buy groceries.

4. Between the bank and groceries, I sat around and was mopey for a while.

5. Came home, cooked myself a dinner of pasta with ground turkey and broccoli, and started watching Merlin.

We can blame all future interest in Merlin on the fearsome bowler.

Break in a Five-Item List - Days 1 and 2

For the last few years, I've tried to make a habit of posting five-item lists each day during the month of January. Since I seem to usually lose steam during week three, and I just started a two-week break from work, I figured I'd start the tradition a little early, and use it to add a little structure to my giant window of unscheduled time.

This weekend has been my first Christmas away from home, and so a new experience. However, because it isn't Christmas in Russia until 7 January, it doesn't feel very much like Christmas. I know it is on a conscious level, but I don't feel it very strongly here.

On Christmas Eve, I:

1. Discovered the excitement that is Virtual Choir 3.0. Downloaded and began learning a voice part.

2. Acquired yarn and needles for a hat I promised to a co-worker.

It was super foggy in Vgrad.

3. Ate a pizza from the street stand that I've been intending to patronize for months now.

(Taken while waiting for the pizza.)

4. Left my cocktail selection up to the bartender, which resulted in three very different, interesting, and sugary drinks.

5. Knit and watched Love, Actually, intermittently chatting with Amoeba.

On Christmas, I:

1. Woke up and was promptly invited to a puppet show, which was fantastic.

(L to R: M, Дед Мороз, fecknom, Снегурочка, and B)

2. Finished my co-worker's hat.

(Windscheif, by Stephen West)

3. Bought a grey and purple striped sweater. Thin, but very warm.

4. Ate dinner at the local German restaurant, and engaged in an obnoxious and tiring discussion of women's rights, privilege, victim-blaming, racism, and general giving-a-shit-about-the-world. (This was probably the part of the day that made miss folks from home the most.)

5. Talked to my family, and was thankful: I have no idea how people lived abroad or navigated long-distance relationships pre-Skype.

I'm settling in for another night of movies and knitting. The difference with tonight is that instead of knitting a simple hat, I'll be getting into the meat of this colorwork sweater that I've been planning for so long. It's going to be intense, but a friend reminded me (via blog) of a quote that suits this project well:

"Just don't worry; worry ruins your knitting."

Elizabeth Zimmerman

A Rare Enthusiasm Has Struck

I'm wide awake, and my mind is completely occupied with being a verbose and angry queer, but really, there is this sweater, and I've been meaning to tell you about it all week, and since I'm up and typing, I figure I might as well bang this post out.

Well, there isn't a sweater, so much as there is some yarn and an idea.

And it isn't so much an idea, as much as it's a well-formulated plan that's been kicked about in my brain for, oh, two and half years now. The difference this time is, I'm actually excited about it.

It all starts with this completely other knitting project. I finished a lace shawl a few weeks ago (Vernal Equinox in Iskra). I needed a new project that wasn't the socks I'm inexplicably avoiding, and the mittens I made only kept me occupied for a week. I organized my stash, pored over the lace patterns I currently have access to, and settled on the Firmaments Lace Shawl in Lidiya. It was a little fiddly at the beginning (as it seems most circular shawls are), but since it starting filling out the center of the needle, it's been lovely.

The needles are my new favorites: my Addi Lace needles, size 4. I love, love, love my Addi Turbos, but the plastic cable in the lace ones means I don't have to worry about accidentally kinking the cable, like I do with the metal ones.

Of course, almost immediately after casting-on, I began thinking about this sweater.

Three years ago, during my last year at Oberlin, I bought this yarn. I had used another colorway to make my dad a scarf for Christmas, and had been drooling over the rest of the skeins since. When I graduated, my knitting circle companions presented me with a gift certificate to Smith's, Oberlin's yarn shop (and the site of our knitting circle). I took home the green and dark brown, made a swatch, having planned a simple colorwork pattern to be knit up on 5s and 6s. When I got home to Minnesota, I bought a couple of other colors (the tan and orange) to supplement my yardage.

The plan was to knit an Elizabeth Zimmerman seamless yoke sweater. I swatched and started knitting.

Thankfully, reason stepped in (or rather, tried on the first few inches of the body), and pointed out that this yarn was 100% alpaca, and that alpaca tends to lose it's shape easily (and also that ribbing was a terrible idea and that I had cast on too many stitches). I decided 5s and 6s weren't going to cut it. I agonized for a long time. I had had, in the past, clothing turn out to be far less satisfying than I expected, and this project had some pretty high expectations. Over time, I became afraid that this yarn was doomed to be a disappointment. I set the yarn aside, and it sat for at least a year and a half.

So when I was struck with this sudden optimistic enthusiasm to pick this project back up, I knew I needed to jump on it. The only problem: I had decided, for shape-holding purposes, to knit the project with more colorwork and on a smaller needle. I knew I couldn't take the needle size down too far, but I had settled on 3.5mm circulars.

Which is a US 4. Precisely the needles I had just used to cast on a 1700-yard shawl.

Clearly, as most knitters know, the answer was to buy a new needle. I went to the local yarn shop by work, and inquired about the Addis they had in stock. Sadly, they were low, but they told me they expecting a shipment soon. I came back the afternoon of the shipment (last Thursday), but was disappointed. At the weekend, I found another shop that carried some cheap circular needles, which will suffice. I brought them home, and knit (and blocked!) myself a swatch.

I'm still waffling a little on the size, since I'm aware that the parts with colorwork will have little give, and the parts without will have a lot, which means I haven't cast on yet. I've mostly been doing a lot of math and calculations and rewording the pattern.

I'm inverting EZ's technique for this one. Since the smaller needle size and increased colorwork has me worried about running out of yarn, it seems the logical answer is to start at the neck, instead of at the hems, and we'll see how long the arms get in the end, and how much detail we can insert on the body.

The plans as they look now: Here are the several-month-old Excel colorwork sketches. It's not exactly what I'll knit, since I haven't checked their compatibility with various stitch counts, but it probably won't be too far off from this:

PS. These are definitely adapted from an Alice Starmore pattern book.

October in Volgograd

I've been in Volgograd for a couple of months, now. I guess I should show you around.

My building.

Local tunnel. Стоматология = dentist.

Local graffiti.

Local corner.

Local ferris wheel (blurry, at night).

This is Sasha, and my wool blanket. These two major things make my apartment feel like a home.

Local monument.

The tramvai.

The wall inside Читай-Город. (Read City, a bookstore's whose name is a play on the Russian version of the name 'Chinatown'.)

Possibly the most fascinating part of my neighborhood. This is in a park behind my apartment, and it appears to be an empty fountain. What or who used to be honored on the platform in the center, I have no idea. I wish I knew.

Here, we have the neighborhood in October.

And of course, the knitting: the lace I've been working on either hasn't been photographed, or has been a source of frustration. So here are the Riverbed Socks that I am designing. I'm not sure there will be a concrete pattern in the end, but I am pleased that I found a stitch pattern that works well with the variegation of this yarn.