knitting is my life

This week has been remarkable on a number of fronts.

Some of the wool I bought recently was underweight. By quite a bit. When I rang the yarn maker and told them they offered to send more which I thought was very gracious. Of the 700gms I thought I bought, I only ended up with about 600gms. They sent me another 500gms! I am now looking for a really good pattern for jacket in chunky 12 ply - perhaps with a pin closure?

On Wednesday someone actually stood up on a crowded tram so I could knit my socks sitting down. I wondered out loud if she was concerned I might stab someone whilst in the upright position but she said, "you are being so productive and I was just sitting there."

On Thursday I finally summoned the courage to knit my way through a 2 hour corporate meeting/workshop. No one said anything even remotely patronising or looked at me funny. I feel quite fortified by the experience.

Not to mention I now have one and a third socks.

I've also overcome my deep aversion to the Brenda doll project I started, well, ages ago. I've decided I can't dwell in the house of frustration any longer so I've sewn her up and am going to improvise her clothes so I don't have to deal with the scary coat pattern she came with. Life's too short. I have my sights set firmly on Amy's birthday in a couple of weeks. And then we will never speak of it again.

And a few more rows of the Hanami. I have my sights set firmly on...perhaps...2009? I do love it, which is lucky or it would never be finished. The pattern and yarn are both just gorgeous.

And every other waking moment has been absorbed with planning the project list from the show loot. Really, my only problem is deciding on which order to do them in.

brothers in arms

bear with me - there's two totally different posts coming your way now and I'm not sure there's any relationship between them, but I can't seem to focus on one over the other.

I can't stop thinking about Dire Straits' Brothers in Arms. I'm an unreconstructed fan of a quite a few Dire Straits songs - something deeply entwined with my memories on one of my school friends winning a radio competition to see them in London. She took her brief lived boyfriend and spent a week doing nothing much except meeting the band and being the envy of our entire school.

But anyway.

We're watching West Wing again, from start to finish, and we've just hit season 3. That's the one where everything falls apart and gets hard and the characters are constantly shot in shadows with pained expressions. Season 2 ended with a wind whipped rain storm and the President and his men marching in to meet their futures to the brothers in arms sound track.

And now I can't stop humming the song and I think it is because there's so many things bound up in those scenes and the music is a sound track I am using to unpack it all.

D and I are in the habit of slagging off Snuffy while we watch. Snuffy (I mean what kind of name is that?!) chooses the music for West Wing and often times the music symbolises everything I hate about this otherwise superb series. The music always announces cheese ahead! It's when the characters are saying things like God Bless America and I serve at the pleasure of the President. Stuff that makes me feel terribly glad to be an aussie and too fearful of ridicule to say things like that out loud.

I can't deny I find some of the cheese quite powerful. The onus of duty moves me, and the way people overcome fear and make personal sacrifice to do what they feel to be right deeply affects me. And it doesn't much matter whether I agree with them of not - on a purely emotional level I admire the courage of sacrifice. Politics, like war, is truly brutal and despite how easy it is to be cynical about the motives of those in power the truth is they stand every day in someone's sights and that's a hard way to live.

I really like the way the series draws out the connections between the ego and glory side of politics and the bone crushing fear of defeat, between the desire to serve and do what's right with unrecoverable personal sacrifice. And despite the show's political sympathies I think it does a reasonable job of demonstrating that all of that can be equally true for people who serve on the other side of politics.

But I think underneath all this I am moved by a different kind of emotion. I am moved by sadness. I've been trying to understand why and I think it's as simple as realising that these are brothers in arms. CJ may be a girl, but when it comes to this point of the story arc, she and those like her are relegated to minor roles. In fact, positively antagonistic roles. Benched for a minor slip, CJ offers to fall on her sword and all she gets is being yelled at by Bartlett. Abby had a life and a deal - a partnership - but it is nothing in the face of the army of suited men who flank Bartlett as he makes it to the podium to announce that despite all common sense and the consequences for everyone around him, he's running for a second term.

It's sadness that in the end whether you are running a country or a marriage, the rules are set not by negotiation or deals that are fair to everyone but by the judgement of those (men) who are prepared to take the most hits.

* * * * *

It is totally ironic that all of this has been whirling around in my brain because I haven't been battling it out in the political arena in the last few days. I've been kicking back with a bunch of women, buying yarn and knitting and sewing and eating and talking and drinking and laughing. The 6th craft retreat, and the biggest yet.

We headed out to catch the Bendigo sheep and wool show. Sigh. So much yarn, so many projects, only two hands. I didn't take a single photo while we were away, but if you are a yarnie and keen to see the loot, head on over to ravelry or flickr.

As I always do on these retreats, I had a wonderful time. And not just because I bought lots of yarn.

I enjoyed my community of women, my chance to create, learn and get inspired. I enjoyed being cooked for, not having to clean or take responsibility for anyone other than myself, not having to change nappies, wipe noses or yell at kids trying to juggle knives or draw on walls. I felt truly privileged to be there.

Full of thanks for the women who share the same dream I do of how things can be amongst a group of people.

* * * * *

There was a time when I wanted to be Bartlett, or at least Josh. A time when I relished every opportunity to get closer to being in charge. Not because I wanted to be in charge but because I had a sense of duty. Because it seemed like the right and only way I could effectively contribute.

Now not so much.

Now I feel like that world, that way of being is way too much for me. I don't know whether I could have made a greater contribution than I have, whether my loss of interest is cowardice. Whether I am suffering a temporary disillusionment. Where once I saw the soaring heights of possibility I now see men in uniforms marching to their deaths and I want to be as far away from the front lines as I can.

Knitting.

journey

Journeys have been on my mind and in my conversations a lot of late.

We've recently had a stint in Ballarat, where we saw snow. Totally pedestrian for those of you who reside in places where such stuff is a regular occurrence. Totally bizarre and novel to us.

Equally unexpected was the proliferation of yarn bargains in the op shop. The three parcels I picked up were choices - that's right there was even more I didn't buy! I turned up my nose at the packs with less than 500gms of matching yarn that wasn't acrylic - and for a good while later I was wondering whether I was mad to pass them up. In Melbourne it is rare to get more than a ball or two in one go.

This partially knit jumper was a total snap. Overlooking the instructions in the accompanying pattern book that this garment must be worn with shoulder pads. The pattern is so dense with cables that even though there is only a front, back and half of one sleeve I think there's enough yarn (600gm) for a reasonable size garment. It has none of the scratchiness of most mohairs, it is in fact divinely soft and the cream will dye up beautifully.

Ditto the 600gms of 5ply superwash in cream. Wil's next jumper for sure.

And a lifetime of lovely wash cloths/crochet toys/string bags in this bag of 750gm of 4ply white cotton.
And all for about $20. Gotta be happy with that.

And there's been other journeys.

I've been thinking about my knitting journey a lot. I finished the posmerino vest using an upsized version of the Teva Durham Ballet T Shirt pattern and for a while now I have been oscillating between loving it and considering ripping it back and starting again. The yarn is wonderfully warm and deliciously soft and the dye job is excellent. The basic technique used in the patterns is also fantasticly simple and smart, and it makes a wonderfully useful and comfortable garment.

But as something that's snugly fitted I wear it with a degree of fear that it may well attract the stares of people who think larger people should wear garments more suited to hiding their bulges. I have no doubt for some people it looks ridiculous (not in these photos mind you).

And I think if I ripped it back to the armholes and put in some more rows there, it would be a more more acceptable, and possibly better, garment.

What strikes me as I think through this dilemma (as I do each day I put it on) is that
(a) not so long ago I would never have contemplated ripping something back once it was finished. If it didn't work the first time I would have given it away or trashed it in frustration.
(b) part of why I am contemplating doing it again is just to see how a few extra rows would change things. I am actually looking to learn something here.
(c) I'm kind of resistant to the idea of trying to please other people by sparing them the sight of my bra strap bulges.

Further along in my journey I agreed, reluctantly, to knit a football scarf. Because I am a mum and I had an orphan ball of cascade 220 superwash in the right colour and enough superwash 8ply in red and white to be able to finish a medium sized scarf for a small girl looking to develop a love of sport. I ripped it back several times - see what I mean about the journey? I mean, shit, it's a football scarf for a 5 year old - trying to find a stitch and gauge which would make it all go quickly and yet not leave me looking at something unbearable.

And in between a few more rows of the Hanami (chipping away at it) I started the first pair of hand knit socks for me using the beaded rib stitch from Sensational Socks by Charlene Schurch and the universal toe up formula with a Turkish cast on.

Despite being busy and engaged and having a healthy sized queue of knitting projects I have to say I remain well excited about this knitting trip. I'm excited about what I've just finished, what I'm currently knitting and what I have yet to knit. Indeed the more I knit the more excited I become. Some trips wear you out a little, or at least provide you with some low points, but at the moment I am out on the frontier and feeling more alive than usual.

That's the thing about travel. It's hard and when contemplating embarking on a new journey it is easy to be overwhelmed by what it will take to get on the road. Those people in my crochet class who just sat in the departure lounge and watching everyone struggling with their metaphorical luggage and anticipating the hardships and thought, you know, I just don't need this.

But it always surprises me that once I get going on something new those hardships aren't hard. And I don't just mean that the anticipatory anxiety distorts our perceptions of difficulties, or that things go smoother than we thought they might. Quite often the opposite is true. You hit hurdles you could never have foreseen and witness difficulties which far oustrip your worst expectations.

What happens is I change. Each problem solved buoys to such an extent that I have fresh confidence in approaching the next challenge. The energy I get from accomplishing a leg of the trip diminishes the enormity of the task ahead. My sense of pride is great, the newness of things makes me alert and observant and filled with wonder.

I remember so clearly when we first planned our stint in Thailand. I had a 2 year old who never slept, a thesis I didn't know how to write, chronic sleep deprivation, no prospect of work, continual illnesses and a sense of overwhelming despair. And I remember when D suggested it, very tentatively (expecting as he did that I would throw myself on the ground and weep with yet another burden), that all the hardships and problems flashed through my brain. They seemed immense and insolvable and common sense dictated that I should if not throw myself upon the ground that I should at least laugh at the mere suggestion.

I agreed to go because really, life couldn't get worse. In hindsight I can't imagine what might have happened had we not gone because really what I needed was all the things you get from the journey. To get back in touch with my competence for a start. To experience the joy of the new, to be surprised, to overcome, to learn. To be able to get into bed each night knowing that you have really lived and not wasted another day.

And the other thing about journeying is the way it wakes you up to all the other trips out there. The possibilities, the things as yet unseen, unfelt, unknown.

mirror mirror on the wall

Tomorrow is the third Saturday in a row of teaching for me. I'm feeling a bit out of routine as a result. And school holidays. Plus, teaching crochet is hard. Much harder than toy making.

I've spent some time thinking about that.

One of the reasons I didn't end up a teacher (despite getting qualified) is because I find it really hard to deal with 'failing' to teach someone something. I really want to believe that anyone can learn anything if they try hard enough. The reality is that even if that's true, life gets in the way for lots of people in a way I can't even begin to know let alone control.

People's perceptions of themselves, their expectations of what they should be able to achieve and how fast, the limitations of the teaching environment and the materials you are working with. What people have trained their hands to do before they sit down with a hook can dramatically effect how easy they find the initially weird and unnatural process of crochet.

Being a teacher forces you from the outset to compromise. It is inevitable that students will need different things from you, learn at different rates and at least some will have totally unrealistic expectations.

And I know all this but still it gets to me that there are some people who leave the class disappointed, or worse, convinced they just can't do it. The ones who don't return after the lunch break. The ones who repeatedly apologise for not getting it, or who ask me to explain that one more time and slower. The ones who get frustrated that I go too slow and don't sufficiently challenge them.

In toy making class the differences between students are so much less problematic, and technical skills per se are less important. That class is all about ideas and images and play. The crochet class is by its nature more focused on a set of uniform skills and that makes it so much more dependent on me and on everyone being roughly in the same place.

And while I don't consider myself a 'technical' crafter - tending as I do to a more slap dash approach and crafts which encourage invention rather than perfection - the truth is that I really enjoy learning new technical skills. This comes as something of a surprise to me and highlights something of a disconnect between my self-perception and my behaviour.

Once this thought occurred to me, I saw evidence all around. My new crochet roll, my extensive library of patterns and reference books, my pattern drafting tools, my various searches for the perfect whatevers. My storage systems and attraction to new and ever more complex crafts.

Is it possible there's a perfectionist buried deep inside me, almost lost under layers of recycled felted jumpers and the detrius of children?

next

Oh that was quick! More delightful Pippijoe fabric and stash lining and batting. Super quick and my own pattern.

And because I can't stand to waste a scrap - a little bag to hold my sock knitting for the commute to work. Whew. Time for a rest now. Or perhaps a wee swatch knitting session...

out of the box

There's been a wee burst of activity here. Highly enjoyable and productive.

The bunch of crochet classes I am currently teaching has shifted my butt into gear on this project which has been languishing for too long. I hate it how Ravelry tells you exactly how long. There's only the border edging to do and it is done. I can't wait to block it and throw it in the tumble dryer where apparently it will get softer and thicker (how could that be possible?!) and the natural undyed cotton colours will deepen. Despite being a little splitty I still totally love this yarn. Though after hearing that Malabrigio has a very similar organic cotton I may be tempted to stray...

I've also vowed to start making my way through some of the truly breathtaking screen print fabrics I have in the stash. This Pippijoe hemp has been burning a hole in my imagination so I just had to get it out there. Since I bought the wonderful Japanese handles nearly 2 years ago I figured it was about time I used them too. Inside there's a little frivolity with Trefle pigs and chickens and a stunning array of pockets and slots for all my bits and pieces. Including one edged in fold over elastic (great stuff you can get here) just big enough for business cards. We'll have to see how I go balancing it on my arm whilst knitting on the tram.

I also finished a hat for a friend. I had to frog the top to reset the shaping (he wanted it squared off and flat on top) and it ended up too big so I had to felt it lightly. Really a bit more traumatic than a hat should be, but he was totally particular about what he wanted and I was busting to meet his expectations. I really like the finished fabric - still soft and with clear stitch definition, but the felting has given it lovely structure.

And since D nearly lost a hand yesterday when taking my cast iron casserole out of the oven with his 20 year old mitts (yep, worn out) I'm onto oven mitts today.

As my flickr watchers may have noticed I have been a bit interested in looking up lately. So I was thrilled to be asked to a function on the 89th floor of one Melbourne's newest sky scrapers. Just my luck that there was a cloud hovering...

And finally some cute. My boy is at a really delightful stage right now and I can't get enough of watching him be charming.

time time time see what's become of me (or: I'm an old bag and I don't care)

It's all been happening around here.

I turned 40 and had a seriously good party to celebrate (photos here).

Things that crossed my mind during the storm that was party preparation, speech writing (in my head only - when it came time to speak I just mumbled thanks and let everyone get on with the eating and drinking), very long morning after which started approximately 3.15 hours after the night before ended, and whilst wandering from conversation to conversation:

• I am happier at 40 than I have been at any other time in my life (despite the falling apart physically thing which really sucks). I really love my life
  
• The falling apart thing really sucks
• Some people don't listen when you say no presents please (and sometimes that is a really excellent thing especially when they have good taste and know me well)
• A sister you can depend upon is worth a lot. Especially when she is also skilled and capable and fun and can cook a really superior cake (lemon syrup with a lemon curd and fresh cream filling, just in case you wanted to know)
• Left over cake is the gift that keeps giving
• I am really lucky to have so many good friends. It's trite but no less true
• The skirt felt as good to wear as I had hoped (and I did get that top made)
• The only thing I regret about not getting married is a chance to tell everyone in a long detailed way how great D is
• When it comes to a big party, children who wake before 5am the morning after are a serious liability.
  

My 3 year bogging anniversary has also passed unmarked, even though I have a big box of stuff for giveaways and swaps. Time. Too short. Much to say. Soon.

Greed

Many years, decades even, of fabric buying, collecting and hoarding has taught me a thing or two.

It has taught me to take what you can when you can, for this opportunity may not come your way again. From original screen prints in limited runs to op shops finds and bequests from de-stashers - an offer of good fabric cannot, should not be refused.

I know there are some problems with this. Space for one. Organising systems and relocation problems. Choosing quantities is a total pain if you don't yet know what a piece of fabric will become (an evening purse? doll clothes? an overcoat?). Colourway choices can reduce me to a blithering idiot.

But what I know for sure is that if I set out to buy a particular kind of fabric for a particular purpose I am almost guaranteed to be unable to find it, and to waste a whole sewing day looking to boot. This is tantamount to inviting the sewing mozz to come stay. Frustration in extremis.

I just love that when the mood and opportunity come together I can make pretty much anything without needing to go shopping first. Like today. Two kid free hours and the centre piece of my birthday outfit was all but done. It features a selection of silk fabrics, one I inherited from D's grandmother that must be older than me, scraps from vintage kimonos, pieces of Thai silk I bought back from Chiang Mai and left over silk lining from two previous outfits.

Aside from being perpetually prepared for any sewing whim, my other great lesson has been to cut with abandon. I won't kid you that this one is always easy, but bitter experience has taught me that no piece of fabric is too special to be used. You need to strike when the iron is ready to burn.

How do I know this? Many a piece has been coveted by me only to end up being given away when I no longer care for it. There have been premeditated purchases I have lusted after and spent considerable dollars on. Fabric I loved so fiercely that I kept it for just the right project on a day when I was feeling supremely confident.

The Project That Never Came.

And then a few years later as I am digging for treasure I find it and somehow it just isn't special any more. Its moment has passed and I never got to enjoy the use of it. How wrong is that?

So the other piece of fabric I used today was the bundle of denim and stainless steel my fashion icon (man, can she sew!) procured for me just a few weeks ago. I love this stuff so much I never even put it into the stash. It's been sitting on my desk screaming out to be used ever since I got it.

I was so scared I might let the moment slip with this fabric that I pushed away my initial plans for it because I knew I just wasn't going to have the time and space to get that project done. Instead I opted for an entirely achievable and no less pleasing project. In fact this garment makes excellent use of the fabric's drape and hold. I'm planning on wearing it for a very special occasion, but I know it will get plenty of use after that too.

Thank you so very much Kirsten! I love it!!

The basic structure of the skirt is from Ottobre magazine, though I altered it heavily and the embellishments are of my own devising (with advice and opinions from Amy and D). Some of my alterations were brought about by needing to make it smaller (such a lovely chore for me), but now that I know what size I am in their scheme* I won't be making that mistake again. I am sure I will be whipping up a few more of these now that I have the fittings down pat.

I am eyeing off some top patterns too for the luscious piece of merino tencel I bought (also hasn't made it as far as the stash), with perhaps a few embellishments from the knit stash box. I can't quite see how I'll fit that in between now and the party, but never say never.


*Does it happen to everyone else too that they take their measurements for a commercial pattern, find out they are a MUCH bigger size than they are in shop made clothes and then make the clothes only to find they are too big? I have been sewing for a long time and it drives me nuts the way I always get sucked into making this mistake.