FO #3: Caity’s Shrug

•April 2, 2008 • Leave a Comment



teh pinkness finale

Originally uploaded by Vellan

The pattern (Two Tone Shrug from Stephanie Japel’s Fitted Knits) was easy, and yet this project really took it out of me.

The pink. It is so very, very pink. I understand that there are people who like the colour – people like Caity – but I have what you might call a pink allergy. It brings me out in a rash, and sometimes I scream for no reason. (That is, no reason other than exposure to pink.)

Despite the extreme personal hardship suffered to knit this item, it was completely worthwhile. She was so excited and profusely thankful that it was worth every finger-burning, eye-rotting second.

People who appreciate handknits are good to knit for. She’s not *my* girlfriend, but I think my brother should keep her.

FO #2: Dad’s Alpaca Socks

•March 28, 2008 • Leave a Comment


DAS

Originally uploaded by Vellan

Just in case anyone has missed the story:

These socks are knit from yarn I handspun specifically with my Dad in mind. He is a cyclist and gets cold, wet feet.

I made these for his birthday, and while he *seems* pleased with them, we’ll have to see if they do the job and keep his feet warm. They’re a three-ply (alpaca/alpaca/corriedale) for density and durability.

We’ve had a recent cold spell, but I don’t think it has yet been cold enough to test them.

A Loom With a View

•March 11, 2008 • Leave a Comment


not obscure blue

Originally uploaded by Vellan

(Loom puns have got to be nearly as bad as dye puns.)

A loom is inevitable.

I feel hampered by my lack of weaving nouse. (Nouse – rhymes with ‘mouse’ is an interesting word. I think it’s Australian, as teh intarwebz doesn’t seem to know it. Even Google keeps offering references to ‘no use’. For foreign visitors, nouse = practical knowledge. ETA: after consultation with the Handsome Husband, it turns out nouse is English. That figures, because Australians speak English…unlike our neighbours on the other side of the Pacific, bless them. Here endeth the etymology section of the post.)

Right. Weaving nouse. I don’t have it. I’ve picked up a little weaving vocabulary, and I think I could tell the difference between plain, warp-faced and weft-faced weave. I know that warp has to be strong. I know that the gap where you put the shuttle through is called a shed.

All this is a bit like knowing that computers run on electricity. Somewhere to start, but won’t help you to decide which one to buy.

Do I want an entry-level loom? That would look something like the Ashford Knitters Loom . While it looks to be okay in itself, it’s unappealing for mainly these reasons:

a) The cost. Starting at AUD$225? That’s not an impulse buy. Unlike *necessities*, like mp3 players and videogame consoles, I’m not emotionally invested in weaving. What if I don’t like it? What if warping the loom is a huge pain in the arse and I never use it? That $225 could be a couple of games. Or enough to knit a jumper out of something wickedly indulgent.

b) The width. What you get for your $225 is a piece of woven fabric no more than 30 cm wide. For an extra $50 you get an extra 20 cm, but still. Really. $225 for…a scarf. Or a placemat. Maybe a table runner. You wouldn’t be able to do anything bigger, like a tapestry, or wall hanging, or blanket (unless you wanted to do a lot of sewing. And it’s not like they’re upgradeable and you can mod it to increase the width.

c) The effort. I watched the flash instructions for how to use the Ashford Knitters Loom, and…I don’t really see how it’s different from a full-on loom (forgive me, but my weaving lexicon is lacking). Sure, if you had a floor loom you’d need to pay attention to how you put the warp through the shafts, and the wider you want your weaving the more warping you have to do, but if you can still do your simple 30 cm wide scarf on an 80 cm loom, why would you limit youself?

I have to admit that this attitude is coloured by the knowledge that someone at the Guild is selling an 8 shaft table loom (which looks a lot like this, without the stand) for less than the Ashford Knitters Loom. It’s in my impulse buy range, and I probably would have bought it on impulse, except for the size. It’s big. It is very clearly too big for me to smuggle past the Handsome Husband.

I have to see if I can convince him that a loom would improve his quality of life. I have told him that a loom would use up yarn. He’s very keen on that. I think he’s under the impression that ‘using up yarn’ is the same as ‘reducing the stash’. I don’t see it that way.

The next step is to indicate that a loom could possibly be used to produce items that he desires, like curtains. I have no idea how to weave curtains. Seriously.

The photo? I’m still trying to take a photo that accurately depicts the colour of that damn blue. I’m calling it Obscure Blue, because it refuses to be photographed properly.

Fun is…

•March 10, 2008 • Leave a Comment



fun is…

Originally uploaded by Vellan

This is currently my default spinning thickness.

I’m spinning this for fun, rather than for a specific project, so I’m spinning at the thickness that is easiest to maintain.

I dyed 200g. This is 37g.

Cabled 9 ply, maybe?

Fitted Knits & Simple Socks

•March 5, 2008 • Leave a Comment



knitting books

Originally uploaded by Vellan

If I wrote a post every time I bought a book or magazine…I’d have many more posts, that’s for sure.

These arrived in the post yesterday. (Although the AUD isn’t as strong against the GBP as it is against the USD, free postage worldwide transports me with delight.)

It was only when I had them in my hand that I realised that these books are complete philosophical opposites. Well, neither of them are concerned with crochet, so they’re not *that* opposite, but as far as knitting goes they’re at opposite ends of the spectrum.

Simple Socks Plain and Fancy was an impulse buy. (Impulse click?) But now that I’ve seen what’s in it, I love it. I like to (and do) knit my socks toe-up with a short row heel. It’s so rare that you almost never see it in published patterns. I’m sure there must be some; I just can’t think of any. Most are cuff-down. Most have heel-flaps. And from time to time, I have wondered what’s wrong with me. What makes cuff-down heel-flap sock preferable? What am I missing?

Priscilla Gibson-Roberts (who is also a spinning afficionada) says I’m missing: nothing. She likes her socks toe-up too. I feel so vindicated. As an aside, I think that the appeal of the heel flap is that it makes it immediately apparent to non-knitters that what they are looking at is not a mass produced item but a lovingly hand knit sock. That’s as may be, but short row heels seem to fit me better.

The book is informative and useful and yes, vindicating, but it isn’t pretty. I’ve got so used to glossy pages with beautiful photographs that rough paper with black print and hand-drawn diagrams was a bit of a shock. This book doesn’t need photos. It isn’t trying to sell you on some design the author wants you to knit. It’s a book to give you the tools to knit your own design. People’s imaginations are hard to photograph. Trust me on this.

Fitted Knits, however, not so useful. I bought it for one pattern – the Two Tone Shrug – that I will make for my prospective sister in law, sorry, my brother’s girlfriend. She’s worth the cost of the book and the yarn. I don’t know that I’ll be making anything else from it. A) I would have to recalulate the sizing and B) there are other designs that I actually, you know, like.

There’s nothing in the book that makes me think ‘wow, that looks great!’ and admittedly, I don’t tend to be drawn to knits that don’t flatter my shape. Usually. And the girls in this book (with their diet-sculpted bodies and their vacant expressions) represent my shape in the same way that a stick is like the M808B Scorpion Main Battle Tank (UNSCDF, of course).

It’s a very pretty book, nice for a knitter’s coffee table (does anyone still have coffee tables?) but aside from gift knitting, not as valuable as Simple Socks.

IMMV, as always.

My Choctaw Name

•March 2, 2008 • 1 Comment

winterberry sock yarn
Originally uploaded by Vellan

…is Spins Too Thin.

Not that I am the thinnest spinner I have seen, not by a long shot. But I pretty much always spin thinner than I am aiming for.

This was meant to be 5 ply/sportweight/14 wpi. Although I used 3 plies (and in point of fact, I usually make a 3 ply yarn – it’s a cheat to make it thicker and plus you get better stitch definition) it’s only a 4 ply/fingering weight/16.5 wpi. (WPI calculated as average from 3 different points along the length of the yarn.)

So, bugger. This means that I won’t be using it for socks. I may use it for mittens.

I have to go away and spin the other 50g, and hope that I can maintain some consistency.

It is too thin, but I take some comfort in the fact that at least I’m close.

(ETA: The dirty alpaca fleece is having a time out.  I don’t want to see it’s face right now.)

…A traveller of both time and space

•February 14, 2008 • Leave a Comment

I did post about this on the other blog, but really, it belongs here.  Double-blogging.  Seems so inefficient.

 But it is important.  What is more important to a spinner than the purchase of a new wheel? 

Traveller

Meet my new Ashford Traveller.  It was purchased on eBay, and I was pleasantly surprised to find that it’s in really good condition.  It’s not without drawbacks, however.  It is single treadle (which I knew already) and using a single treadle makes my bad knee hurt.  So I’ve ordered the double treadle kit.  It’s also got an old 2-speed flyer, so chances are that I will order a replacement (modern 3-speed) flyer in fairly short order.

Another drawback is that we don’t have room for three spinning wheels.  (At least, not until I get my studio.)  The large unknown wheel has had to go to make way for the Traveller.  I’m okay with that.  The large unknown wheel was, frankly, a pain in the arse if I used it so it sat collecting dust.  I now have two wheels that I can use, and even better, the bobbins are interchangeable.  Nifty.

 It’s a big deal because I can now spin two separate projects at once!  Okay, I’m not likely to do that a lot, but still, flexibility is always a good idea.

 And the dirty alpaca in my laundry?  It’s still dirty.  I’ve lost count of the number of washes it has had, but it’s still dirty.  I think that the mesh bag fails.  Time to try something else.

So I lied / Foreign Climes

•February 12, 2008 • 1 Comment

There is, as yet, no photo showing the outcome of the situation with the white(?) alpaca fleece.

 Thisis because I don’t know the outcome yet.  It has been through four soaks, and still there is mud at the bottom of the bucket.  Each time I check it I think ‘Hmmm.  Still looks pretty dirty’, and that’s because it is dirty.  So I empty out the dirty water (wash the bucket because there’s mud in the bottom) and add clean water, detergent, alpaca bag.  Frankly, I’m pretty much over it, emotionally.  If it’s unusable, I’ll live with it and learn from it.  I’m a little past caring.

Why do I not have a divider on the toolbar?  I want to talk about something else.  You’ll just have to imagine a divider here.

 I was roused to thought by a recent post on Sara Lamb’s blog, where she discussed the imperfections of textile items that are made in remote communities, in parts of the world where essential items can’t be bought and must be made. 

Implied (at least I infer) is the notion that we lucky inhabitants of the western world - we who are involved with textiles by choice - might be grateful that we have the luxury of perfection.  We can afford to be demanding of our projects.  We can afford to leave something unfinished until we can find the right materials, or think over a stitch pattern until we determine which is the most aesthetically pleasing.

At least, that was how it seemed to me, and I am grateful.

Fleece phobic

•February 11, 2008 • Leave a Comment

[Note: this post is sans photos because I am at work.  It will be updated tonight to include pictures.]

Yeah, well, fleece.  It’s like this.  I love to spin from sliver or combed tops.  I…(hate is too strong a word)…dislike spinning from carded rolags.  I own a set of carders.  I do not own a set of combs.  This is insanity.

Yes, I freely admit that it’s stupid to have the tools for the prep I don’t like, and it’s equally stupid to not have the tools for the prep I do like.  Stupid all round.  However it isn’t such a big deal when you stick to buying prepared fibre.  In fact, it hasn’t mattered at all.  Until now.

I scored some Suri alpaca fleece.  White and ‘clean’, but straight from the beast.  Unprepared in any way.  I say ‘clean’ because I assume that means ‘relatively free from vm’ because it certainly doesn’t mean ‘free from dirt’.  The white fleece was kind of brown.  Dirty brown.

Now I have two sheep fleeces, a lovely creamy coloured fleece and a gorgeous dark-brown-nearly-black fleece that are truly beautiful.  And I haven’t touched them because of my fleece phobia.  They’re sitting there because I don’t want to ruin them.  But this alpaca…I figured that I had better get a move on and try and clean it so that I could get the weight of it off my conscience and maybe even work out how to deal with my lovely fleeces (without ruining them).

So I put some warm water and a generous spoodge of dish washing liquid into the bath.  I soaked some locks.  I took them out and let them dry.

They weren’t white.  Well, bits were white.  The tips were more of a latte colour.  But that was okay.  I didn’t mind the latte colour, it fitted in with the other colours in the project (socks for my dad).  I did decide that before I went ahead and washed the rest, I’d just see how this little bit spun up.

The latte bit wasn’t colour.  It was dirt.  And although I tried to tell myself that I could try and wash that out after I’d spun and plied it – I knew it wasn’t going to work.  I don’t like touching paper because it makes my hands feel dirty.  I couldn’t cope with dirtdirt.

Back to the bath tub.  This time we tried wool wash.  More locks.  The result was improved, not not good enough.  Nowhere near.  On closer inspection, it seemed that one end of the lock would float on the surface of the water, and that was the bit that was staying dirty.

This morning, before work, I put all of it into a hosiery bag and dumped it in a bucket of water + wool wash. 

Will the alpaca retain its lock structure?  Will carding be the only way?  Will it be a useless (but white) felted mess?  Stay tuned for the update!

FO #1 (for the purposes of this post)

•February 8, 2008 • 1 Comment



016

Originally uploaded by Vellan

I know I’ve finished other things this year. And I have been very bad about taking photos of them. Since this is the first FO I’ve rememberd to photograph, I’m calling it #1.

(Which means I have to put a burn on to get the FO tally looking as reasonable as it should.)

This is, I think, the first project where I tried to spin yarn of a certain weight to a certain wpi for a specific project. It was reasonably successful. They turned out a little loose around the ankles (curse cuff-down socks!) but that doesn’t bother me.

What does bother me a little is that the plain stocking stitch parts look much prettier than the cabled parts. I wish I’d done a vanilla stocking stitch sock to show off my beautiful handspun, hand-dyed yarn. I guess I can always spin some more. :-\

The spinning, dyeing and knitting took 8 days. I probably could have finished them in under a week if I hadn’t been playing Halo CE (but Valentine’s day is coming…and Halo is love).