Oops! I Craft My Pants...

This is my first blog post of the new year, and this year has been around for a couple of months now, so I feel like I have some explaining to do.  It is no surprise that work with Ollie Bee has picked-up; people like to stay warm and knits keep them warm.  I was fully expecting this rush of work and prepared myself as best I could.  But I was not prepared for what can only be described as my own crafting hubris.  Let me explain...

I love to make things.  Things that could much more easily be purchased.  I am a crafter, and that's what I do.  The process of imagining and then actually creating fuels my ship and gives me a sense of purpose.  A box of cake mix is a little depressing to me when I have books of recipes and a pantry full of ingredients.  Pre-assembled?  Ugh.  Give me a million little unfinished pieces and let me paint them and glue them and turn them into something unique and spectacular.  And in an ideal world, that is all I would do.  Be a from-scratch goddess of all things homemade.  But I live in my little world of family and housekeeping and teacher conferences and countless other mundane little things that eat away this crafting time.  I should know this, and yet for some reason I pushed that knowledge to the side these past couple of months and acted as if I had no other responsibilities than my own crafting ambition.  This was stupid, and Jim told me so (in much nicer words, of course, but definitely with that tone). 

I think it started with Annie's birthday.  She turned two, and after two boys, I got a little excited about planning a girly party.  I made the invitations.  I made the party favors (custom shirts complete with appliques and contrast stitching...by hand).  I made the food (cupcakes!  miniature quiche! yogurt tarts!).  I made the decorations.  I made a cupcake photobooth.  And then she had to have a gift, and so I made a dollhouse.  A kit that involved powertools, paint, nails, glue, wallpaper, installing flooring, 1200+ individually applied shingles and instructions that made IKEA assembly manuals look obsessively detailed.  After that came Valentine's Day, where I had to make the valentines, the homemade red velvet cupcakes, and then volunteer at the parties.  And then Annie needed a second party for the grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins.  And of course that had to be homemade, too.  And of course I had to feed my family, keep-up with knit orders, make shower gifts, go to the gym, and keep my house from being a total disaster.

This is not a brag list.  This is a list of shame.  Why?  Because I was not a graceful crafter.  I was a mean, crabby crafter who said bad words to a dollhouse and ate a lot of cupcake batter to feel better.  Someone commented on how "Martha" I was being, and all I could think was, "Oh no, this is SO not Martha."  You see, Martha is a calm, collected, and confident crafter.  And a little badass.  I was a frazzled, cranky mess who yelled at people not because I was so superior but because I was having small nervous breakdowns every fifteen minutes.  And don't say that she makes it look easy because she has a whole staff of people helping her.  She walked out of prison wearing a poncho she designed and knit herself.  And she looked awesome.  THAT is some badass crafting.

The fact of the matter is, I am not Martha, and most of us aren't.  What she does that is so amazing is rules a crafting empire with grace.  She completes each project with ease and because she is who she is, she can take on numerous projects of astonishing diversity and detail.  We commoners have to know how to choose what we craft and what we let others do for us (even if we could do it better ourselves).  The kids at the Valentine's Day party?  They totally went for the grocery store bakery cupcakes before my little homemade ones (their loss...but that's another story).  The homemade Valentines?  They were by far the cutest I have ever seen and were noticed by everyone...worth the effort for sure.  The photobooth?  Cute, but two-year-olds really don't want their pictures taken and none of them stood still long enough to pose by the cupcake. 

And finally the dollhouse.  This is the only one I am torn on.  It is beautiful, but I probably invested over 100 hours in it and earned more than a few gray hairs in its construction.  I cried.  A lot.  But it is beautiful.  And she plays with it everyday (without me forcing her to) and loves it.  But she would probably love a pre-made plastic one just as much at this age.  Yet this funny little sentimental part of me hopes that someday she will give it to her little girl and tell her that her Mommy made it for her, and that is why it is so special. 

No matter how you justify it all, I definitely took on too much.  I sucked the joy out of crafting, which made the projects I typically love seem like one more "to-do" rather than something to look forward to.  The idea to being a "Martha" is to be crafty, but only do as much as you can while maintaining your composure and sanity.  I on the other hand, well, I CRAFT MY PANTS.  And Martha would never do anything so crass...

Show and Tell: what it takes to make homemade

When someone unfamiliar with knitting sees what I do, they often ask, "How long does it take to make that?"  And while I often have an idea of how long it takes, the truth is, I usually just don't know.  It is a rare and glorious occasion that I get to sit down, pick-up some needles and a skein of yarn, and knit a project from start to finish in one sitting.  More often, I am picking-up and putting down a project 50+ times per project, squeezing it in between completing the other tasks I have on my radar at any given moment.

That said, I think it is a good thing to know what kind of time investment you put into your work, and so I decided to embark upon a little experiment.  I would knit a pair of slippers, documenting the process with time stamped photos. Here, I present the answer to "How long does it take to make that?":

I start with two balls of wool, some coordinating trim, and a pair of needles.  Of course I had to shop for these, but we won't count that time here.

Half an hour in, still working on slipper number one.

One slipper knit, first cup of tea mostly gone.

Both slippers knit and sewn, ready for felting.  For reference, I have put them here with a pair of my women's size 8 shoes and Jim's men's size 15 shoes (I know!).  They will shrink from Jim's size to my size after two felting cycles.

After one felting cycle, they are smaller, but not quite there.

Back in the washer for another hour of felting...

...and this is what you get: a lovely pair of plain slippers.

Sometimes I know exactly what I want to do with the trim.  Sometimes I have to play around for a while to figure out what looks best.  I spent just over an hour jabbing myself with pins trying to get this ribbon to look the way I wanted it to.  That is about average.

A finished pair of slippers after about 45 minutes of sewing.  We'll round it down to a 6 1/2 hour process from start to finish.

That is a lot of time to spend on a pair of slippers that I could just as easily drive to Target and buy for $15 (although I have never seen slippers like these for sale anywhere outside Etsy, and they are the most GLORIOUS slippers in the world).  But I have said it before and I will say it forever: something made by two hands; something made with the careful attention to details that a machine just can't give; something with little imperfections that let you know it wasn't "mass produced," is destined to be treasured rather than simply appreciated.  That's the kind of thing I want to spend my time on.

Shhh!...I'm Counting!

I was going to title this post "The Art of Getting Stuff Done When You Are Constantly Being Interrupted," but that seemed a bit wordy.  But now you get the idea, right? 

I run my business from my home, which is wonderful for a lot of reasons, the main one being that I am always accessible to my kids while still being afforded the opportunity to pursue my own creative/professional interests.  Being their mom is, has been, and always will be my favorite and most important job.  I am super-fortunate and grateful to have the option of staying home with them, and over-the-top lucky to be able to have a successful small business that is fun and fulfilling.

That is my "before I say BUT" paragraph.  If you are put-off or offended by anything said in the rest of this post, reread that little blurb, stop, and love me for being such a great, appreciative, nurturing kind of gal.

But...oh, BUT...sometimes working from home--with your kids and husband and laundry and goldfish and grocery list and email and phone calls and baseball games and diaper pail all vying for your attention--can be a real challenge.  A challenge that pushes the limits of your patience and self-discipline and makes you want to use those nice pointy knitting needles to poke out your own eyes or whap somebody on the head.  Not me, but you know, it might do that to you :).

The biggest challenge I have run into lately is that of being interrupted while working.  Interruptions are nothing new to me; I have three kids and haven't had a hot cup of tea or coffee uninterrupted in seven years.  But there is something about being interrupted when you are in your "creative groove."  When I am designing, creating, or doing any of the tasks that nurture this little business that means so much to the individual me, I find it much more difficult to handle the interruptions with even a little grace.

My husband and kids are used to seeing me knit, and usually I can do it while talking, watching TV, reading a book, or whatever.  This has conditioned them, in a way, to think that talking to me about baseball/Legos/arithmetic/farts while I am knitting is okay, and usually it is (well, everything but the farts...I never really want to hear about farts).  But sometimes I have to focus a little more closely on what is going on in the pattern, and inevitably that is when everyone needs me.  My current way to deal with this situation is to  glare at the offender and hiss, "Shhh!...I'm counting!"  It doesn't seem like such a bad reaction here, but the look of "Whoa lady.  Put.down.the.gun." that they give me when I say it makes me think that it is a pretty ugly scene.  Effective, but ugly.

So, in hopes of reducing my stress levels and scaring my family less, I have been drafting some ideas for keeping interruptions to a minimum while knitting and yet still being available for the people I love. 

1.) Have "Complex Knitting" hours:  I have heard at-home workers talk about the importance of office hours, but honestly, I have to squeeze business and creativity in whenever I can.  However, I can see how it might benefit me to set aside a special time each week when Jim or a sitter can hang out with the kids and I can do the projects that require more of my attention.  No interruptions allowed.  Just knitting.

2.) Take a number:  This was actually a joke when I first thought of it, but now I kind of think it is genius.  I want to carry around a little Post-It pad that I have pre-numbered and whenever I set it out, it is a signal that I can't be interrupted and that you should take a number.  I will get to you shortly.  Can you imagine if this worked?!?!  I could get through check-out lanes and phone conversations with quiet ease!  Let me dream...

3.) Work from home out of the home:  In my house, I am a mom, a cook, a maid, a chauffeur, a secretary...but when I leave my house, most of those responsibilities stay at home.  Just for my own mental clarity (because if I am going to be honest, my own thoughts interrupt my creative process just as much as my husband and kids), it helps to remove myself from where all of my other to-dos are and focus on the task at hand.  This usually means knitting at Starbucks for me, which means that I get a hot cup of coffee AND I get to knit...heaven, I tell you.

As much as I am challenged, and if I am going to be honest, simply annoyed by all the interruptions that define my work life right now, I know that in a funny way they are my biggest blessing.  If I take a step back and get some perspective, I am pretty lucky to have people who care enough about me and need me enough to interrupt at all.  And see?  Now I am full circle to being a good respectable mom who has never thought about using duct tape to get a few minutes of quiet...

A Southern Prescription

I am not the type to take a break.  I have a to-do list on the dry erase board in my workspace that is always full and keeps me on task and busy whenever I am not sure what to do with myself.  I still have nightmares, years after finishing college, of showing-up to class without my homework done.  In my little world, there is always a load of laundry to do, a workout to squeeze in, a trash can to empty, a hat to knit, homework to help with, baseball, Tae Kwon Do, grocery lists, diapers, emails...there is ALWAYS something waiting for my attention and I only sleep to fuel my next day of busyness.

This must change.

Fresh off my first vacation from Ollie Bee Knits since opening in May, I am convinced that my five days spent doing nothing in the glorious 80-degree sunshine of Savannah, Georgia may have been the most productive five days I have had in months.  It is hard for me to admit when I need a break, but deep down I knew I wanted it.  An escape from housework and childcare sounded nice, but I needed something more...

Against the better judgement of my neurotic self, I stepped off the plane with Jim and I gave myself permission to just BE.  To do whatever I wanted.  I napped.  I knit.  I walked.  I ran.  I drank coffee.  I ate fried green tomatoes, collard greens, and banana pudding.  I talked.  I was quiet.  I took pictures.  I laughed.  I was myself and I was inspired. 

This trip wasn't just a break from my to-do list.  It was a full recharging of my batteries.  No, it was a total systems overhaul.  I am not sure I even knew how much I needed it until I was there in the midst of it.  You see, this "mom-working-from-home" gig is amazingly awesome and wonderful in so many ways, but it has its own unique challenges.  The big one for me is that I have my work and home to-do lists staring me in the face all day long, and since they both exist in the same space, there is never a chance to really escape from either one.  I don't "come home from work" to relax with my family.  My home, my work, and my family require 24-hour juggling.  An escape was necessary.

Savannah was the perfect venue with its combination of history, art, and nature.  We walked everywhere, which is my favorite way to get around, and it gave us the opportunity to really see the city.  We could pop in an antique shop find a school bell from 1810, we could see what students at SCAD were making, we could taste local Tupelo honey, or just trip over cobblestones laid by some of Savannah's first settlers.  Nothing was planned or rushed, and it all worked-out beautifully.

The funny thing is, while I was there doing nothing "productive," I had more ideas for my life and my business than ever.  And I came back to both with enthusiasm rather than just feeling overwhelmed.  This is a good thing.

Here are some photos of the trip and what inspired me: 

Jim, my husband and best friend who was the perfect company for this trip.  It was nice to feel like we were dating again.

Me, with my ever-present cup of coffee.  I don't care if I was sleeping 12 hours a day...I still need it :).

Savannah is organized in a grid system, with 24 different green spaces peppered throughout.  Every city should embrace natural beauty like this.

The trees in Savannah are covered in Spanish moss.  It makes everything look like it is out of a fairy tale.  I kept waiting to meet Little Red Riding Hood and Hansel and Gretel.

Jim had to be so tired of me commenting on all the brick walls, but I seriously couldn't get over how beautiful all the buildings were.  You can't fake aged brick, and this has been aging to perfection for 250 years.

One of my favorite spots was Back in the Day Bakery.  It was adorable, and the food was delicious.

A latte with foam this beautiful has to be photographed.

The Olde Pink House is a culinary institution in Savannah.  The fried green tomatoes, fresh grouper, grits, and collard greens were perfection.

We visited The Paris Market several times in our five-day trip because we just couldn't take it all in in one trip.  It was a combination of vintage finds, new boutique, and Parisian cafe.  I could live there.

Does your downtown look like this?  I didn't think so.

Friends knit together

I already told the story of how Ruth showed me the basics of knitting (and how my slightly neurotic personality forced those awkward first stitches to become confidently created pieces of fabric).  But the reason I fell in love with knitting has its own story...

Knitting Night.  With small children at home and a house that constantly presented chores to be done, I lived for the escape that a night with friends provided.  Ruth's first knitting lesson grew into a semi-regular evening meeting to chat, learn, and create.  I don't know when it happened, but eventually those small gatherings grew into larger "knitting optional" mini-parties.  We cooked for each other, listened to each other, prayed for each other.  Our gatherings, more often than not, would last until the next day.  We just couldn't stand the thought of this time together ending, and so we would sacrifice sleep to make it last that much longer.  We didn't care that the next day would be a bleary-eyed mess of juggling kids and responsibilities, we needed this.

And knitting was the center of it all.  That is not to say that we always knit, or even that everyone there could knit, but it was the catalyst for the whole thing and somehow was always present.  There were evenings (especially around the holidays) where all of us would be covered in yarn, furiously stitching all the gifts we needed to finish for friends and family.  There were evenings where only one of us would be holding needles, working a baby blanket over her growing belly.  There were summer nights where the heat made the thought of knitting seem like torture, and so our projects would sit untouched in our bags while we sat on the patio and sipped cold drinks and ate chocolate.  No matter the volume of knitting being accomplished, the gathering was always called "knitting night."

My knitting friend Sissi (who doesn't like to knit, but is called a knitter because she was at the core of most of these gatherings) recently moved back to Sweden with her family after being here in Ohio for over four years.  Among the gifts we gave her at her farewell party was a little patchwork of squares knit by each of the us knitters.  I was charged with crocheting them all together, and as I did I was struck by the idea that these friends, who knit together, were knit together as friends through all those knitting nights, and were now literally being knit together.  The blanket was mismatched and full of mistakes, but absolutely beautiful when complete.  Just like us.

I am built to require a creative outlet for my sanity, and right now knitting is that for me.  But the reason I love knitting, the reason I feel like it is a part of me moreso than drawing or painting or cooking or any of the other things I "enjoy" is not because I am making something, but because I feel like knitting was another friend at the party.  Every time I knit, a little piece of me is back at the party and is filled with joy.

Show-and-Tell: the Bertie Clutch

I always have oodles of ideas for knit projects: for my shop, for my kids, for my friends, and for myself.  I am not terribly organized with said ideas, and I feel like I really should be more diligent about documenting all of them.  To that end, I have created Show-and-Tell: blog space to document and share my latest original knitting patterns, concepts, and ideas.  "Bertie" is a pattern that I began toying with after completing a modified version of the Picnic Bag from Mason-Dixon Knitting Outside the Lines.  That is a fabulous pattern (and a really fun book, at that), but I was wanting something a little more dainty that I could whip-up for a birthday gift or carry with me on date night.  So, without further ado, I present:

"BERTIE": The Ollie Bee Felted Clutch

Materials:

   1 skein each of three colors of Stitch Nation by Debbie Stoller Full O' Sheep yarn
   Size 7 straight needles
   2 size 7 double-pointed needles (dpn)
   Tapestry Needle
   Fabric (for optional lining)

Abbreviations:
K=knit
P=purl
K2tog=knit two together
P2tog=purl two together
dpn=double pointed needles

Purse body:
Cast on 40 stitches with color A.  Work even in stockinette stitch (knit right side, purl wrong side) until piece measures 8.5 inches from cast on edge, ending with a purl row.  Purl next row.  Switch to color B, purl next row.  Knit next row and continue evenly in stockinette stitch until piece measures 8.5 inches from turning purl row.  End with a purl row.  Purl next row.  Switch to color C, purl next row.  Knit next row.  Purl next row.

Assymetrical flap:
*K1, K2tog, knit to last 3 stitches, K2tog, K1. 
Turn for next row.  P1, P2tog, purl to the end of the row.
Continue in this decrease pattern  (from *) until 3 stitches remain.  Bind off.

I-Cord Trim:
Cast on 3 stitches on dpn.  *DO NOT TURN, but rather push stitches to the right side of the needle.  Pull yarn around back (as if to work an I-Cord).  K2, slip 1, pick up and knit one stitch from the top edge of assymetrical flap.  Pass the slipped stitch over the most recently knit stitch. Continue in this pattern around triangle of assymetrical flap.  Bind off.

Felting and Finishing:
Sew-up side seams of bag using mattress stitch.  Now it is time to felt the bag, which means we are going to shrink it (were you wondering why that "clutch" could fit your firstborn, your cat, and a picnic lunch in it?).  You can find detailed instructions for felting here.  I have a front-load washer, so I usually just toss it in with super hot water and a little detergent and let it go.  Sometimes you have to repeat this process a few times; I only had to run it through once for this project.  Prompty remove bag from washer and lay flat to dry.

Finally, use a bit of whatever colors you have on hand of your Full O' Sheep stash and embroider a pretty picture on your clutch with a tapestry needle.  Feel free to copy my bird, or I think a monogram or pretty flower could be cute, too!

Here is my seven-year-old's photography debut of me and my clutch:

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I hope you make this pattern and have great success with it.  I also hope you share it with all of your knitty friends.  However, please be sure to credit Ollie Bee knits or link-up to this page when you do.  Thanks!
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The art of giving...

Meet Amy Angelfish.  She is from Amy Gaines amazing Amigurumi pattern book, Little Knitted Creatures.  I made her especially for a friend of my boys, E, who saw a picture of Amy and begged me to make it for her.  Melt my heart, a child wants me to knit for her!  SOLD!

And while this is a relatively easy knit, there are really very few things out there that can be called "quick knits."  Amy took me about 5 hours from cast on to weaving in ends, and I knit quickly.  More than once while I was making her (and postponing other projects that I probably should have been working on...) Jim questioned whether or not I should be working so hard on something that I am just going to give away to a six-year-old.  A valid question for sure, since my own kids aren't too impressed with what I make and couldn't care less if it was knit by hand or came from the claw machine at the supermarket.  Could Amy Angelfish, the result of hours of the careful work of my own hands, become a *gasp* cat toy?!?!  His questions got me to thinking about if and when it is "worth it" to make something for someone rather than buy it.  Should there be a special criteria for the recipient of what you make when it is being gifted?

I think so.  I believe that it is true that "it's the thought that counts," and there is no greater thought put into a gift than when it is actually made for a person.  However, there is a big difference between making something for a person and making something for a person.  Example: when I first learned to knit and was really finding my groove, I made a scarf for Jim.  It was my first "splurge" yarn purchase and was a horizontally constructed, garter stitch stripe piece that was GORGEOUS.  Chocolate brown and blue cashmere.  I was so proud.  And then he opened it and the look on his face melted whatever pride I had in that scarf in about .38 seconds.  You see, Jim wears flip flops in 40 degree weather.  He wears a light jacket in a snow storm.  The man does not do scarves.  While I am sure that he was proud of me for finishing a product that was wearable, he was not going to be the guy to wear it.  Not everyone wants what I make.  Lesson learned.

And then there are the people, bless them, who have no idea what it takes to make something from nothing.  They do not see or care to see the difference between homemade and handmade.  That high school graduation party you were invited to?  Chances are, Prom Queen of the Class of 2012 doesn't care that you handstamped those earrings for her, she wants earrings from Tiffany's, you cheap idiot.  This is not Prom Queen's fault, she just doesn't know any better.  I don't want to say it's not worth your time and effort to make something for these people, because you love them, too (despite their complete lack of craftiness and appreciation).  It is so nice of you to love them and want to show that love with what you make.  But you need to value what you make, too, and have the confidence in what you create to know that it should be appreciated and treasured.  (And apologies to the class of 2012 or any Prom Queens out there who happen to be crafty: you will be getting all kinds of Etsy-terrific things from me when you invite me to your graduation parties...).

Finally, there are people like little E, who have just enough craftiness to know what kind of effort goes into making something (E and my boys recently constructed an airplane out of tree branches and rocks: the girl has some serious craftiness in her).  These people love something MORE because it was made by an artist rather than a machine and is one-of-a-kind in its imperfections.  These people cross their fingers and hope you will be so generous to make something for them when their birthdays roll around.  When you think of them, you think of what special item you can make just for them.  These should be the recipients of your work.

I gave Amy Angelfish to E, and she immediately squeezed her in that awesome smash-it-to-your-face kind of hug kids are so good at.  She beamed, and I did too. 

So yes, Jim, I should be working so hard on something for a six-year-old.  Because I am making it for her.