Ruthless Knitting

The Kinari cardigan has reached a tough stage. Progress seems slow, the sweater is all scrunched up on the needles, and I’m having periods of doubt about some of my decisions. Will it be too wide at the bottom? I don’t own anything swingy, maybe for good reason. Will the bright white of the buttons look okay on the unbleached white of the sweater?

I suspect that many sweater projects are abandoned at this stage, when the fantasy that propels you through the first half of the knitting starts to fade, papered over with doubts. The rows are long now, and the edges all curl under, and it’s hard to envision just how the final product will work out.

It’s been my experience that art in general hardly ever works out just the way I imagine it will. But it often works out in a different way than I could have imagined — a way that is just as good, once I’ve managed to let go of the image of the old thing and to love the new thing as it is.

So I press on, one long row at a time, because that’s the only way to find out what this sweater will be when it’s finished.

I printed out slips for each person who expressed an interest in the leftover Tokyo and Jaggerspun yarn this morning, put them in David’s Halfdome hat, and mixed them around. David got to choose the winning slip. And the winner is . . .

Nicole’s comment read, "I’d love a chance to win the yarn because I think the colours would be perfect for my brother’s fiancee (and I think I could come up with something nice to make for her)." Sounds like a good (and generous) reason to me!

Send me your address, Nicole (to ruthlessknitting at gmail dot com), and I’ll ship off the yarn to you.

I’m someone who can’t manage to keep a white shirt long without staining it. Come to think of it, I don’t actually own a white T-shirt (long- or short-sleeved) at present, probably for this very reason. Thus, the fact that I’m designing an all-white wool cardigan should be understood as an indication that my practical side has been overruled by the Design Mind, which insists that these buttons (a Christmas gift from my father, who made them) —

 — will work best on a sweater that looks like this:

In case my scrawlings aren’t altogether clear, that’s an all-white wool sweater with elbow-length raglan sleeves knit from the top down in one piece. The body widens all the way from the cast-on edge to the bottom hem, as do the sleeves, so that the sweater is fitted at the bust and flares out gently below. The bottom 6" of the body and sleeves will be done in a texture stitch that incorporates triangle shapes to echo the shapes on the buttons. The rest of the sweater will be stockinette. All the edgings are meant to be hemmed, so there won’t be any bands or borders, just clean lines. The buttons will be placed on the upper chest and will close with some sort of fasteners fashioned out of yarn, which may or may not be red. (I think red might look nice, but I’m afraid it will bleed on the white sweater when I wash it.)

I pondered yarn possibilities for a while. My overall vision for this design is that it ought to be clean and somewhat Eastern-looking, but at first I considered some more rustic white wool yarns, because I liked the idea of a contrast between the rustic yarn and the smooth glass buttons. Peace Fleece DK (in Antarctic white) was a serious contender at this stage. Ultimately, though, I settled on Habu’s wool roving A-81 1/6. It’s an undyed laceweight yarn that’s very loosely spun, so it has a slight halo and is soft. I’m holding it double, which makes it approximately sport weight. I thought at first that I could get the whole sweater out of one skein of this yarn (about 800 yards held double), but it later became clear that at a gauge of 7 stitches and 8 rows to the inch on size 5 needles, that’s not likely to happen. I had bought the first skein from KPixie, and I found a second on sale at Purl. The undyed yarn color is listed on the label as "kinari," which is where I got the name for the sweater. I don’t know what it means, but I like the sound of it. I hope it means "undyed," or at least not something embarrassing.

For the raglan seams, I’m using a double increase that I found described in Barbara Walker’s Knitting from the Top. It’s worked by knitting into the back of the seam stitch, then knitting into the front of it, moving it off the needle, picking up the vertical bar in the row below the stitch just created with the left needle, and knitting that stitch. This technique creates a neat line with raised center stitches that look almost beaded.

Progress so far has not been rapid, and in fact the last few inches before the divide at the underarm were a real slog, with more than 350 stitches on the needles. Since I divided the body from the sleeves over the weekend, however, I’ve been moving right along.

All that stockinette is getting a bit dull, so I’ve been telling myself that I just have to do a few more inches, and then I can start the texture pattern. For that, I’d like to use this simple lozenge stitch from Barbara Walker’s first treasury.

This is the first sweater in a new collection that I’m working on. The genesis was the two sets of glass buttons that my dad made me for Christmas. I had started thinking of designs to use these buttons, and then I remembered that I have some fantastic green glass buttons that I’d also like to design a sweater around. And then I remembered that I want to design something for the lovely purple buttons I bought from Earthenwood Studio that didn’t work for my Middlebury cardigan. And I also have a whole bunch of vintage mother-of-pearl buttons from an antique shop in New York that I want to use in a Habu sweater for my sister-in-law. Before I knew it, I had five different sweaters in mind and realized that the Button Collection had begun to take shape entirely of its own accord. Who am I to buck fate?

I haven’t entirely closed the books on the Fall/Winter 2007 Collection, because there’s a stranded design I would still like to do, but my knitterly instincts are telling me to let that marinate a while longer. So it’s on to buttons!

I got the Tokyo pattern written up over the weekend, so I offer it to you for your knitting pleasure.

You can do a direct PDF download (2.4 MB) via this link or visit the Designs page at your leisure and follow the link there.

Or, if you’re a Ravelry user, you can download the pattern and add it to your library here. I find it both exciting and somewhat alarming that more than fifty Ravelers have downloaded the pattern since I posted it after lunch today. Yowza!

Since I have one skein of Tokyo and a fair amount of Zephyr left over from this project that I’m unlikely to use, I’m going to give it away. If you’d like my cast-off Tokyo and Jaggerspun Zephyr, of which there is quite a lot but not necessarily enough to make a Tokyo top, leave a comment saying why. I’ll draw a name on Wednesday to determine the lucky winner.

Pattern: Bird in Hand by Kate Gilbert
Size: 7" in diameter and 10" long
Yarn: Jaeger Matchmaker Merino DK (100 percent merino wool; 130 yds per 50 g skein), shades 865 and 790
Yardage: About 160 yds turquoise and 90 yds beige
Source: Monterey Yarn, Green Bay, WI
Needles: US 2 (2.75 mm) Knit Picks classic circular and double-pointed needles
Gauge: 28 sts and 36 rows = 4″ in pattern
Notes: This pattern has become quite popular among the knit bloggers this winter, and for good reason. It’s easy to follow and quite cleverly put together, and the finished mittens are cute and (I hope) warm. The pattern can be purchased directly from Kate Gilbert as a PDF file for $5.95, and it’s worth every penny. 

The only modification I made was to knit the mittens in DK-weight rather than worsted-weight yarn. I did this for two reasons. First, I noticed that some bloggers were finding the finished mittens to be a bit too long in the fingers and thumb, and since these are a gift for a dear friend with tiny hands, I wanted to ensure that they would be small enough without having to resort to modifying the chart. Also, the thought of knitting worsted weight yarn on size 1 or 2 needles made me squirm. I did a project once with worsted yarn and tiny needles, and I found it thoroughly unpleasant. I am quite willing to trade off a bit of warmth for more enjoyable knitting.

Though many people have omitted or modified the braids, I didn’t mind them much. The cuff portion of the mitten is pretty time-consuming compared to the colorwork portions — I found that it took me about 20 minutes to do a braid, and there are three on each mitten — but the braids look nice, and I was glad to learn the technique, which is different than the one I had previously used to create two-color braid.

I had a little trouble with the thumbs, particularly with the birds. It’s hard to get the tension just right on such a small number of stitches so that the birds don’t come out funny looking. Also, my approach to embroidery is to make it up as I go along — perhaps a detriment in this particular situation. Still, I think the little fellows are acceptable, if not smashing.

I came up with one innovation in the process of blocking the mittens that makes me feel clever: I cut out cardboard into a mitten shape and used it to block the wet mittens over. This evened out all the lumpy bits (particularly in the thumbs) and made the mittens look more professional than they otherwise would have. Of course, if you look closely at the pictures, one mitten appears to be a little bigger than the other. That’s because it is. But I think it’s the case because I blocked one a month ago and the other yesterday, rather than because I actually knit one larger than the other. Over time, the more recently blocked mitten ought to settle out at the same size as the smaller one. And if it doesn’t, well, close enough.

Thank you for the many kind comments on my Tokyo top! I don’t think I’ve ever had so many comments before. I told my mother that I thought some of you were motivated to comment not only by the fact that you liked the top but also by your surprise that you liked it. It seems that not everyone was fully convinced of the wisdom of my reviving the eighties in variegated silk/wool. But that’s alright — truth be told, neither was I.

I wore the top to a wedding this weekend, and it performed quite admirably. (Also, I found out that my aunt Marty reads my blog when I walked into the reception and she said, "I know that sweater!" I love it when I find out that someone has been reading without my knowledge. Hi, Marty!) I’ve started working on the pattern already, and I hope to have it done in a week or so.

In other news, I’ve been meaning for quite some time to write a post about the You Make My Day award, which has been tearing through Knit Blog Land for the past few weeks. The award was kindly bestowed upon me by the proprietresses of Pipe Dreams and Purling Plans, Desiknitter, ScarletKnitter, LookingGlassKnits, and DrunkenMonkeyKnits. My Fana pullover also recently received a wonderful tribute from the Independent Stitch. I’m chuffed that so many of you have singled me out for praise.

Even though I’m a bit late to join the party, I want to share a few of the blogs that I enjoy, since I have enjoyed following other people’s links to discover new sites. I’ll leave off those people who nominated me, though I do really enjoy all of their blogs and encourage you to check them out.

Here are eight knitting and non-knitting blogs that I read faithfully:

Green Apples. Stitchywitch churns out vast numbers of beautiful and fashionable sweaters, and she also likes to swatch as much as I do. A great site for indulging one’s knitting fantasy life.

Ask Moxie. I don’t have any children, but I do like to read about parenting. Moxie writes a parenting advice column that is eminently sensible, empathetic, and interesting.

Elliphantom and My Fashionable Life. These are two of my favorite knitting sites. Neither Elli nor Anna posts as often as they used to, but I always get a little thrill when they do. I love their aesthetics, their humor, and their finished pieces.

Smartypants. Smartypants has been writing rambling, idiosyncratic, analytical posts from Chicago for years, and she always makes me smile. I love the Nora stories and the reports of adventures with public transportation.

The Needle and the Damage Done. This is the Internet home of Faith, who podcasts as the Knitting Cook. I appreciate her recipes, her knitting updates, and her can-do attitude. Also, sometimes I’d like to scoop her up and give her a little vacation, as she’s raising three little kids as an American in Germany while also somehow managing to spin and knit and cook.

Shapely Prose. Kate Harding writes thoughtful and frequently fascinating posts about fat acceptance and disordered eating in American culture.

The Yarn Harlot. I like Stephanie because she’s funny, but even more so because she’s a clever and interesting feminist writer who occasionally can’t keep herself from stirring up a little tempest with a good old-fashioned (but good-humored) tirade.

In knitting news, I expect to finish the second Bird in Hand mitten soon. I would have finished it over the weekend, but I only had the thumb left to do right before I left for a trip, and I didn’t think it would make good airplane knitting. Instead, I started the Kinari cardigan (about which you know nothing), and I’ve managed to get through the first four inches or so. I’ll try to do a proper introduction to that project later this week.

Pattern: My own
Size: 32″ bust, 13″ to underarm on body, 5" sleeve length, 7" sleeve opening
Yarn: Interlacements Tokyo (50 percent merino wool, 50 percent silk; 500 yds per 100 g skein), color Taiga; Jaggerspun Zephyr Wool-Silk 2-18 Lace Weight (50 percent Chinese tussah silk, 50 percent fine merino wool; 630 yds per 2 oz), color Basil, held double
Yardage: About 475 yards of Tokyo and 650 yds of Zephyr
Source: Interlacements Yarns; Sarah’s Yarns 
Needles: US 4 (3.5 mm) Knit Picks Harmony circular needles
Gauge: 24 sts and 36 rows = 4″ in pattern
Notes: This project began with the yarn, which I bought through a Yahoo wholesale group a few years ago. Since that time, I have discovered that I am far more interested in knitting garments in solid and semi-solid yarns than in variegated ones, which left me with a bit of a dilemma regarding how to use up the thousand yards of wool/silk in my possession. My plan when I bought the yarn was to make a shawl, but that impulse faded fast. Later, I had the idea of using the Tokyo combined with some matching solid-colored Zephyr to make a baseball-shirt-style sweater with three-quarter-length sleeves — a sort of soft, warm, refined throwback to the popular baseball t-shirts of my youth. I still think that would have been kind of cute, but I sat on the idea long enough that I grew bored with it.

In search of another plan, I discovered wave and box stitch in Barbara Walker’s second treasury of knitting patterns, swatched it, and became smitten. In the book, this pattern is shown in high-contrast yarns, but I love how using two similar colors results in a fabric that seems to have a cellular structure but doesn’t give away the secrets of its construction without close scrutiny. The pattern breaks up the variegation but retains all the interesting color play; it manages to be colorful without, I think, being garish.

I decided to pair wave and box stitch with bands of garter stitch at all the edges of the top. This idea came straight out of Maggie Righetti’s Sweater Design in Plain English, which was also the source of my notion to try out the garment shape she calls a "T-topper." The planning from that point forward was quick and simple: I drew a sketch and a diagram and jotted down about three lines of instructions in my notebook. Then all I had to do was knit, block, and seam.

Since the T-topper shape is something of a throwback to the 1980s (and I am not the kind of gal to wear legwarmers), I wasn’t altogether sure how the finished garment would look on me. It turns out that it’s a pretty flattering cut — and I realized belatedly that I actually have a similarly constructed shirt in my closet that I’ve been wearing to dressy functions for about six years. Duh.

Creating the Tokyo top was simple and pleasurable, and I am so enamored of the result that I intend to write up the pattern and make it available alongside my other free designs in the near future.

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Other posts about the Tokyo top:

• In which I swatch Tokyo for the first time
• In which I swatch Zephyr and outline my baseball sweater plan
• In which I discover wave and box stitch
• In which I cast on
• In which I knit the front
• In which I block the front

I wrote a long post earlier that I lost by accident. Then I went downstairs to run on the treadmill only to discover that the DVD of Heroes I just got from Netflix is the exact same DVD of Heroes that I finished watching and returned last week. Feeling a little cursed, I decided to take the blog in a whole new direction.

But first, a quick knitting status report: I finished up the Tokyo top on Sunday morning and wove in all the ends. It’s fab. I’ll try to take pictures and get a finished object post up sometime in the next few days. Meanwhile, you may have noticed a new sweater project listed over there on the sidebar. It may be the first sweater in a new sweater collection. I’m actually not quite done yet with the Ruthless Knitting Fall/Winter 2007 collection, but I need some time to plan the (rather complicated) sixth and final sweater. And before I knit a stitch on it or on the new collection, I’m going to finish up the second Bird in Hand mitten, which I should have made in December.

Let me delay my revelation still further to point you in the direction of Whatifknits. Sarah-Hope is having a raffle for her one-year blogiversary to benefit animal welfare and protection groups. She’s giving away some fabulous prizes, including a beautiful hand-knit Swallowtail Shawl. Have a peek at her website for details.

So. I was thinking today about websites that I enjoy, and I really do love the ones that include some cooking. Faith of The Knitting Cook posts recipes often, and so does Ysolda, and DesiKnitter. I love to cook, but I don’t particularly like reading about cooking at any length, so I am always pleased when cooking guest stars on knitting blogs. Perhaps five parts knitting + one part cooking = the perfect blog?

In order to investigate this possibility further, I give you a tortilla recipe. I’ve only been making tortillas for a few months, but I am a total convert. Fresh tortillas are relatively easy to make (particularly if you are someone who makes bread regularly), they taste fantastic, they don’t contain any of the freakish ingredients that appear in Azteca "tortillas" and other store brands, and the leftovers make killer huevos rancheros. The recipe I use is from Madhur Jaffrey’s World Vegetarian, which is my favorite cookbook.

Wheat Tortillas

2 c. all-purpose flour [I use King Arthur bread flour]

1/2 tsp. salt

2 Tbsp. vegetable oil (I use olive oil)

warm water

Sift the flour and salt into a bowl. [I am actually too lazy to sift.] Add the oil and rub it into the flour as evenly as possible. Begin to add very warm water slowly, gathering the dough into a ball. You will need about 1/2 cup or a bit more. Knead the ball for about 10 minutes. [Don't skimp on this part. It's the only difficult part of the whole recipe.] Now divide it into 8 even portions and make 8 balls from them. Flatten the balls into patties. Put the patties on a large platter or baking tray and cover with a dampened towel or plastic wrap. Set aside for 30 minutes or more.

Set a cast-iron frying pan or griddle on medium-high heat. Allow it to heat up.

Take a ball of dough and dust it lightly in flour. Now roll it out into a 7-inch round on a floured surface. Lift up the tortilla and slap it back and forth between your palms to shake off the extra flour. [I don't do this, since there is never any excess flour on mine by this point.] Slap the tortilla onto the hot griddle. Let it cook for 45 seconds. It will puff up. Turn it over and cook the second side for another 35 to 45 seconds. Put the cooked tortilla on a plate and cover it with a towel or another upturned plate. Make all the tortillas this way, making sure to wipe off the cast-iron pan with a paper towel after each tortilla is made. [I never wipe off the pan.] If it takes you a while to roll out the next tortilla, turn the heat under the cast-iron pan down to low while you roll it and then turn it up again. [You can easily roll out each tortilla while the previous tortilla cooks.]

I cook the leftover tortillas in a skillet with a little olive oil and whatever toppings I want. You can also reheat them in the oven.

In honor of today’s third annual bloggers’ silent poetry reading, here is a poem by my very talented friend Chuck Rybak. It is drawn from his collection Tongue and Groove, which is currently available from Main Street Rag Publishing Company.

"Tongue and Groove"

I

The hardwood floor, laid yesterday

and fit for sanding, waits to be smoothed,

walkable in bare feet. The worker,

machine firing, bickers on his phone

with a woman, a brutal battle drawn

through the dark and resumed this dawn.

You disrespected me, he says.

He’s kept curses in reserve, hopes to hurl them

while working — the sander drowns him out,

drowns her out, overwhelms their shouts

and he hates repeating

his rage. I can’t hear you,

he yells. Then only the sander speaks,

smoothing things over.

II.

Arguing and installation — tongue and groove.

The boards, pounded into place

the day before, forged a rhythm of roar

and curse and heavy-metal music.

Armed with a mallet, he wed

each word and plank with a blow:

You   stupid   crappy   wood

Why   won’t   you   fit?

Then, as if he were a member

of the band, he’d resume a verse

or melody, mid-line, banging along

with Black Sabbath. In the quiet

that followed, he mentioned his three daughters

and I imagined their daily rush from the door,

the leaps that snag their collars and sleeves

on his thorny tattoos. They swing there,

welcoming him home again.

III.

Then there’s the wood, reclaimed

barn wood, the pine of old farms,

marked by hoof and horn, hail and blade,

by a summer of drought, drink, and punch,

by a kicking calf and her mother stiff

with milk fever. The worker

glosses these scars as "rustic," revels

in the spacing, the random width –

no option for a uniform look,

no pick of consistency. After the seal,

the soak and shine of polyurethane,

my barefoot wife and I walk the floor

of what will be a child’s room.

We kneel and read the knots and grooves,

run our fingers with the grain, observe,

Here is the anger that marked the wood.

Here is the love that smoothed it.