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.

The Sweater Dilemma

I know I know...I am only on post two of a knitting blog and I am already talking about knitting sweaters.  Didn't she just tell us how to get started?  And now she's springing sweaters on us?!  Sheesh!

If you have just started knitting and enjoy it, chances are you are going to keep knitting.  And if you keep knitting, you will inevitably come to a place where you crave new patterns and challenges.  And as your confidence builds, I can almost guarantee you that you will want to try to knit a sweater, whether it be for you, your kid, your husband, or your dog.  This is my journey in sweater knitting.

I have officially made six sweaters.  One for my infant son, one for a dog, and four for myself (and that doesn't include the silk mohair poncho I made for myself or the poncho I made for my daughter).  My son wore his cardigan once before dribbling sweet potato spit-up all over the front of it.  The dog whimpered and cowered as if its sweater were a straight jacket, and so now said sweater adorns a stuffed animal that resides in the bottom of the toy box.  And my own sweaters?  I have worn them each exactly once a piece, only to stuff them into the depths of my closet never to be worn again.

I don't pretend to be some master knitter, but I do feel that I am skilled and can confidently maneuver my way through most patterns.  That said, even the simplest sweater pattern is going to require hours of knitting time, not to mention hours of finishing in the form of sewing, weaving in ends, and blocking.  Add to that the cost of several football field lengths of yarn (which will be worn next to your skin, so it better be nice...read: expensive), and a handknit sweater becomes an investment on multiple levels.

So why on earth have I done this four times and not worn them more?  Why am I not flaunting my skills around and stopping every random person on the street to tell them, "I MADE THIS!!!"?  Because they never turn out quite the way I expected.  They technically look just like the picture in the pattern book, but on my body, they look a little frumpy.  They could stand to be a little roomier here, a little more fitted there, and a little longer over there.  I may have unrealistic expectations, but I can't stand to be a walking billboard and not have it look perfect.

After such an investment in time, money, and effort, it is a sad thing to see those sweaters sit.  And I know that there are tons of other knitters out there who have the same situation in their closets: a collection of precious works of art that cannot be put to use because they aren't just so.  That all said, each time I get a little closer to my ideal sweater, and after a month or two of "sweater recovery" I am ready to start the pattern search again, armed with the lessons from the previous efforts.  So you don't have to learn those lessons by making my mistakes, here are some of the biggies:

1. ) If you want a sweater that looks like you bought it from your favorite clothing store, go to your favorite clothing store and buy it.  Handknits look handmade because they ARE.  That doesn't mean they have to be "grandma sweaters" but they probably won't look like they are from the Gap, either.

2.) Simple is better, especially on your first try.  My first sweater had this gorgeous lacework at the bottom of it, and while that turned out all fine and dandy, the rest of the sweater was ill-fitting.  I spent so much time on the lace and now it just sits in a drawer.  There is much to be said for a simple raglan sweater that fits like a dream as opposed to a cabled/color-worked/lacy monstrosity.

3.) Use good yarn.  I know last time I talked about not spending a fortune on yarn, but when it comes to a sweater, you need to buy something that you LOVE.  Remember, you won't just be feeling this on your skin when you wear it, but also the whole time you are knitting with it!  If you don't like to work with the yarn, you won't be motivated to finish the project. 

4.) Pay attention to the pictures: do you like how the sweater fits the model?  Is it even shown on a model?  Is the model built like you or built like a model? 

5.) Take your measurements.  Do I really need to explain this?

I am certain I will learn more lessons as I continue on my quest for the "perfect sweater pattern," but in the meantime, I will take these and move on.  Because someday, I am going to throw on my favorite handknit, run outside, grab the first stranger I see and yell, "I MADE THIS!!!"  And they will be so impressed.

Where do I begin...?

An appropriate way to start since I really have no idea what I am doing blogging.  Also, it is the question I am most often asked by overwhelmed knitters-to-be and the question I asked when I first began toying with the idea of creating something with yarn and needles.  This is the story of my introduction to knitting:

I met Ruth at a mom's group at church and she was one of those people who oozed coolness: trendy without trying too hard, confident and yet still approachable.  She was pregnant with her FOURTH child at the time and was totally rocking that look.  I, on the other hand, was completely overwhelmed caring for my then two-year-old and few-weeks-old sons.  I was the opposite of cool covered in spit-up and still wearing the maternity jeans that fit too well at that point postpartum. 

Ruth was carrying the BEST bag that day: a handknit slouchy hobo that was practical and feminine all in one.  I saw it and I needed that bag.  Already a skilled shopper, I asked her whether she had made it and how much I would have to pay for her to make one for me.  She could have charged me a bundle and been on her way, but in the generosity that was and is Ruth, she replied, "Why don't you come over one evening for tea and I will teach you to knit one yourself?" 

Perhaps I had not realized how desperate I was for an artistic outlet (other than Play-Doh and finger paint), but the mere mention of someone taking time to teach me how to do something new and social and creative was so exhilarating that I was nearly brought to tears.  I jumped at the opportunity blindly, having no idea what skills, materials, or patience knitting would require.  We scheduled our evening and I set off to the craft store with Ruth's recommendations for a beginner.

Ruth taught me how to cast-on, knit, purl, and bind off.  My fingers were so clumsy at first and I marvelled at how quickly Ruth's fingers moved and how even and beautiful her stitches were.  My first swatch was a lumpy, misshapen blob that I had worked over for hours.  I couldn't remember where to insert the needle, where to turn, which way to let the yarn hang.  It must have been so painful for Ruth to watch, despite her patience and encouraging words.  I could have given up then, but I am a perfectionist and cannot quit until I feel I have mastered the task at hand.  I practiced at home, and slowly, the movement began to feel more and more natural.  Little by little, I began to trust myself and could make each stitch with increasing confidence.  I tried new needles, new yarns, and marvelled at the patterns in the stack of books I had found at the library.  And eventually, rather than focusing on the individual stitches, I began to be able to see where each stitch became part of the larger yet-to-be-created fabric.  The entire experience, rather than being one of frustration and stubborn determination, became almost therapeutic and meditative.  I had fallen in love with knitting.

So where should YOU start?  Find your Ruth.  Whether it be an acquaintance who knits, the teacher at the local big box craft store, a yarn shop owner, or the author of a knitting pattern book, find someone who you like and who reflects your own personal style.  Knitting should be cool and you won't want to keep learning if you can't stand the person who is teaching you.  If you must go the book route, I would highly recommend the written instructions in any Debbie Bliss or Joelle Hoverson books.  They are cool ladies who create beautiful pieces and took the time to include detailed instructions and illustrations in their books.  The Lion Brand Yarn website also has video instructions that are helpful should you need extra instruction.  While Ruth gave me my knitting foundation, I have learned almost all other techniques from books.

Of course you will need yarn and needles, and the variety can be completely overwhelming if you go in unprepared.  I would start with a basic, worsted-weight yarn in a color and texture you like and a pair of size 10 or 10.5 bamboo needles.  Both of these things will be in the low- to mid-range as far as expense, but it is worth to spend a little more to have materials that you actually like and that won't make the process of learning more difficult than necessary.  Don't spend a fortune either though: some expensive yarns have textures that can be very difficult to learn with and a pair of $50 rosewood needles won't make enough of a difference to splurge on when you are just making swatches.  Save those for when you knit your first sweater :).

My sister has tried to learn to knit several times now, and each time she remembers why she quit the time before.  In fact, one of her "turning 30 years old" resolutions was to NOT try to learn how to knit and spare herself the frustration.  It's not for everyone, and it might not be for you.  That said, trying new things is sometimes more about the experience of trying rather than mastering.  Just start with what you have, and with patience you may just fall in love with what you can do.