Current Knitting (and Spinning)

The Queen Susan shawl seriously impinged on my knitting and spinning time over the last few months. Fortunately, the pattern booklet is now off my desk and onto that of Laura, a most wonderful copy editor. I am hoping she will have time this week to work her magic, so I can upload the pattern shortly thereafter. I promise to announce availability when it's off everyone's desk and into the Ravelry pattern database.

Despite Queen Susan, I managed to complete a few small items for Christmas gifts.

I made two hats, one of which I cannot post about, because Kyoko-san is not allowed to open her present before December 25 and I don't want to spoil the surprise. However, the hat I made for Jun is not under any secrecy doctrine.


Jun's family owns Rhubarb, one of the few non-Japanese eateries in Togane City, Japan--the Nepalese chicken curry is especially good. We love Rhubarb's desserts: the lemon pound cake is particularly delicious.

I am sure you guys remember the Friendship Cake Plague? Every few weeks someone would drop in bearing a wad of Friendship cake starter. The idea was that you used to it make your own cake batter, reserving a blob to foist on someone else. We actually made one cake from the stuff and pronounced it Worse Than Grandma Tillie's Matzoh Balls, and frankly, I didn't think anything--foodstuff or otherwise--could earn that distinction.
 
After five of these batter bits had been charmingly received  and surreptitiously handed off to the increasingly resentful neighborhood wildlife, we escaped to Japan, a country renowned for green tea and sashimi, but not for Americanisms such as Friendship cake.

So of course, the first thing we spotted, to our horror, in Rhubarb's dessert case a few days after arrival was--wait for it--Friendship cake. Clearly, a batter glob had somehow stowed away on a jetliner and slithered from Narita to Togane.

Regardless of this lamentable gastronomical lapse, Jun remains a good friend and deserves a warm hat. I used two skeins of Noro Silk Garden, removing the weird green yarn in the middle of the skeins, reserving it for future knitted frog toys. The little 2x2 cable pattern was spontaneous and I took no notes.

 

Tonya's son is now old enough to appreciate the fact that his older sister has something he doesn't, so I now knit them pseudo-matching gifts. This year, Nina receives Douglas, The Extremely Happy Giraffe, while Kai gets Horatio, The Happy Hippo. Both patterns are free, from Bobbie Padgett.

 Horatio is proportionately smaller than Douglas (to match the size of the children), but equally squashy and adorable:

As for spinning, well, there is a drawer full of singles waiting for an appropriate plying device. I hate, loathe, detest plying. It's boring. It's dull. It's frightful. But! There's a beautifully wrapped package sitting on our Gift Slab that may address the Plying Problem. In the meantime, the myriad little copps sit quietly, waiting for Plyness. But I am not idle.

The Spindlewoods pink ivory spindle in the top photo holds gloriously silky Suri alpaca from The Critter Ranch, and the spindle in the lower two images is clearly enjoying luxurious 50/50 silk/merino roving from The Fiber Denn. It might be the only smiling spindle ever made!

Silly Season

Traditionally, silly season is the period starting in late summer, sometimes called the Dog Days of August. History tells us that this is the time when newspapers, lacking in substantive news, publish stories about three-headed watermelons, alien-infested knitting magazines, and sightings of purple fungi growing on Capitol Hill.

I don't have anything that exciting to report, although we did have a bear wander up to the back door in search of a snack. Who knew that bears could give you puppy-dog eyes? Being of sound mind, we did not open the screen door and toss out any bear kibble. Barnabas then proceeded to strip our fig tree of fruit and then wandered up the hill to have dessert at our neighbor's plum tree.

My personal silly season began with boredom. I have been working on two interminable projects--the King Bat shawl and the Iris stole. I am sick to death of both of them, but know that if I put them aside, they will slowly mutate from WIP to UFO. I have invested too much knitting time in these two objects to condemn them to UFOness.

So, in the spirit of Silly Season, I present Douglas, the Extremely Happy Giraffe.



This charming pattern, and may others equally adorable, are available for free from Bobbi Padgett. I have an urge to work the hippo, but haven't decided what color it should be. Pink and purple hippos are so common, gray is so dull, and green seems a little too peculiar.

Douglas here will become the personal pet of Nina, the daughter of a friend living in Japan. Let's wish him bon voyage and hope he enjoys sticky rice!

Ninjin: The Killer Rabbit

Fleegle is out sick again this week--felled by a nasty broccoli bronchial infection. Fortunately for my faithful readers, I don't have any broccoli bronchi, so I offered to fill in. I am so thoughtful, considerate, brave, trustworthy, loyal, friendly courteous, helpful, friendly, kind, obedient, cheerful, thrifty, brave, clean and reverent!

I've been resting on my laurels since my last fantastic creation (Lavori #5, page 14)... well, actually, I've been resting on my waterbed...but you get the idea that I am resting.

Anyway, since fleegle is currently incapable of decided which part of a dpn is the working end, I thought I would introduce you to the newest member of the household:


As you can see, Ninjin (carrots, in Japanese) is fairly fearsome. The other day I pointed him at a fruit fly in the kitchen and the next thing you know, he cuddled the buzzy little irritant to death. Ninjin will be on his way to Japan soon, where he will become the Chief Enforcer in Tonya-san's household.

Bon Voyage, Ninjin!*

And folks, keep those cards and letters coming!

*This pattern can be found on page 8 of Ondori Organic Cotton Knitting, ISBN 978-4-277-17190-8. I think it's out of print, because I can't find it anywhere. The yarn used was Classic Elite Yarns Premiere, one skein of lavender with bits of purple and orange for the eyes, nose, and tail.

Idle Hands...

...can make silly pets!


Join the fun! Download the free pattern here.

Frog, Froggier, Froggiest

The past week brought a new low in my knitting adventures. I cast on a variety of designs, frogged them, cast on a few more experiments, and frogged those as well. Finally, I cast down my knitting needles and went off in search of Something Different.

As you will see, Something Different turned out to be crochet. Many years ago, my mother gave me intensive instruction. However, my crochet exercises revolved around floofy stuff like doilies, pillowcase edgings, and a few mohair shawls that were foisted onto elderly friends who were always complaining of the cold.

While I was going through my piles of lace that were ultimately donated to the Lacis Museum, I ran across a ruffled doily (shudder) that I made when I was about 12 years old. I sneaked it into the donation pile and shipped it off to San Francisco (ha, ha Mary Francis! You're stuck with it now!).

I hadn't touched a crochet hook, other than to bind off a knitted edging, until this week.


This adorable pattern was perfect for a refresher--each one took about an hour to make. You can find the superb, detailed instructions here, should you decide to follow in my tottering footsteps.

The green yarn is Noro something-or-other, and the rest of the frog was made with pink and white Cascade 220. I have to say that three minutes into working with Noro, my hands started to itch with a ferocity usually reserved for a terminal case of poison ivy. I also wasn't thrilled with the knots that appeared every 10 yards. Yes. No kidding. No wonder the yarn was relegated to the Whatsis Bin.

As I brushed away the weird vegetable matter that continually shed from the yarn, I was reminded of a little episode that took place a few years ago in Yuzawaya (a Japanese craft store). I was poking at a small pile of Noro and I heard a voice behind me whisper "tatami," followed by a spate of giggles. After a few minutes, I deduced that the saleslady was trying to tell me that the yarn was made from old carpet remnants and discarded tatami mats!*

I admit that the colors are so lovely that they almost make up for the texture, which is why I have three skeins of the stuff in the Whatsis bin.

While I was indulging myself in utter silliness, Harry was beavering away on his Bling shawl. He flipped me the bird a picture of his progress as he pranced off to his hip-hop dance class. Much as I hate to say it, the border is coming along nicely.



*Tatami mats are a type of Japanese floor covering made from tightly woven rice straw.