Something Knitty

Entries in Overthinking (11)

Wednesday

Aug062008

Partner sweater countdown

Posted on

Wednesday, August 6, 2008 at 2:23PM

I managed to finish the Body of the Partner Sweater this morning (two sleeves left). I started binding it off last night. I chose a bind-off that is supposedly lovely and stretchy. Perfect, I thought, to finish the ribbing at the bottom of this sweater without losing the lovely stretchiness of the bottom ribbing. I got halfway through the binding-off last night, and with hands cramping, I left it and went to bed.

When I woke up this morning, I decided I didn't like the way that bind-off looked. It was sort of thick, and sort of forced the ribbing to splay in an unattractive way. So I undid it.

Undoing has been the hardest thing for me to learn in knitting. Not that it's hard. Undoing is often much much easier than the original doing. That was the case for this ribbing. But undoing is psychologically very hard for me. I mean, I spent an hour on those ninety bind-off stitches (that sounds crazy-long to me too, but it's true). I could take it out in less than ten minutes and that work was pfffft! gone forever.

I used to hate undoing so much--even when I had made ugly mistakes in the knitting--that I'd figure out ways to fix or hide or ignore rather than undo and redo. I have left knitting sitting in my closet for months, years even, with a mistake or an unsatisfying bit of knitting, because I was paralyzed with a lack of wanting to undo.

I have come to realize in my advancing age (can you hear my creaking rocking chair?) that the part I love most about knitting, though, is the actual knitting. You know, the part where I'm sitting here knitting. Making one loop of yarn after another in tidy little rows and rounds and columns. So, I figure, undoing something (which has lovely little names like Ripping, Frogging, Tinking, or just plain old Un-Knitting), just gives me the opportunity to do more of the part that I love when I get to do it over.

Plus, seriously, if I'm going to spend hours and hours and hours making something that will hang out in my life or the life of someone I love for a long time, I should take the time to make it right. Compared to the time invested in knitting the whole garment, the Redos don't usually add up to much (I say usually, because I know that there have been times when I've had to completely undo something because a mistake occurred wayyyyyy back at the beginning, or because the thing turned out wayyyyy too small or too big--and don't talk to me about too small right now, because this sweater is just almost too small for Partner, but I refuse to undo it completely because I really like it, and if it doesn't end up fitting him after I block it [which it should because the swatch I made at the beginning did the same thing, loosening up tremendously when I washed it], then it's mine).

(Go ahead. Tell me to quit with the parentheses already.)

So on the sweater, I undid the fancy bind-off (which might still be good for binding off lace, but which I will not use for ribbing again), and started over, doing my usual bind-off on bigger needles to make sure the bottom edge didn't bind up. And guess what? I love it. It's perfect. The bind-off just sort of disappears into that bottom ribbing.

Now, the question remains, can I meet my goal? Can I knit two sleeves in three days in order to finish this sweater before the Olympics start? Actually, less than three days depending on whether I count until the Olympics actually start in Beijing (which would be Friday morning at 7 a.m. for me, what with the 13-hour time difference between here and Beijing) or when the start will be televised for me, which is sometime Friday night. Either way, the chances are slim.

So what am I still doing sitting here typing, parenthetically no less?

Eglentyne |

Runner?

Posted on

Sunday, May 25, 2008 at 9:11PM

Recently queried about when I'd start running again, first I stammered, "Uh--." Then I whined about how hot it is here right now. Not hot, so much as humid. Ok, hot and humid.

Check out the Wiki article on humidity. As they point out in the article, we're usually referring to "relative humidity" when we use that term. The relative part refers to the different moisture capacity of the air at different temperatures. The higher the temperatures, the higher the moisture capacity. So 90% humidity at 75 degrees is much less water than 90% humidity at 80.6F/26C (our current conditions, down from 90F earlier--no, no rain). Through some magical voodoo one can arrive at a heat index of 87F/30C for that data. In other words, because there is 90% relative humidity right now, it *feels* like 87, even though it's only 80. Go figure.

This is the kind of weather where I can walk very slowly out the door and begin dripping sweat before the door shuts behind me. The kind of weather where I "dry off" after a shower, but I'm never really dry, just sort of less damp at some point several hours later.

So, you can probably understand why the thought of physical exertion out there leads me to whine. I find it hard to continue to whine, however, after my previous post, in which I extolled the bravery and fortitude of my middle child.

I haven't actually done any kind of running for a long time. I generally refer to April--the Month of Endless Demon Virus--as my excuse for slacking off in the running. But I haven't actually run regularly since just after my race back at the beginning of March. Since I only ran for a smidge over two months, and have NOT run for almost three months, I'm not sure it's honest or fair to call myself a runner over there in the left-hand margin.

I can honestly call myself most of those other things, knitter especially. There has been a decent amount of knitting and knit-planning. A fair amount of legoing. Not so much writing. That one I can blame on the running, but that is for another post.

I'm disappointed in the lack of running. I really liked the running. My brain felt good. My body felt good. Ok, you know, not in the moments immediately after the running, but in the times in between the running, when I was sleeping better, feeling stronger, and generally having more energy and enthusiasm for things in general.

So, what I should be doing right now is promising to me that I will start running again.

Tomorrow.

When I think that though, at least a dozen excuses pop into my brain, most having to do with wet air and knitting.

Eglentyne |

Full Disclosure

Posted on

Wednesday, April 30, 2008 at 9:01PM

A few updates and then no more whining.

No, I do not have a plastic surgeon. That was sarcasm.

No, in spite of all experience indicating the contrary, I did NOT have the flu OR pneumonia. An invasive nasal swab and an assay of blood and urine tests confirmed against the flu, favoring instead "Pyrexia of unknown origin" and "Viral Infection NOS (not otherwise specified)." I am a conundrum. Doctor called it 'ILI' or Influenza-like Illness. Bastard virus.

Besides a persistent stuffy head and phlegmy cough, my cesarean scar feels like it has been ripped apart on the left side, sending shooting pains up under the mama-belly fat on the left side. No, it has not actually been ripped apart. The coughing has just yanked on the abdominal muscle incessantly and pulled at the tight bit of scarry tissue there. But heed this, oh ye who might consider ELECTIVE cesarean: It's not a teeny little scar. It's a big, honking, baby-sized scar. Mine is a big sweet smile that stretches almost from hip to hip across the top of my pubes. I wouldn't give it up in a heartbeat, representing as it does the gateway into the world for those three awesome Sonars. And scars heal, but they don't always heal in predictable ways, and I have to think that doing your best to push that kiddo out au naturale has less of a chance of leaving you feeling like your stomach is being split in two every time you catch a bad cough.

On the up-side... I wrote 63 pages on a script that was a lot of fun until it ground to a screeching halt with the onset of ILI. ScriptFrenzy ends tonight with the page count thus. I am really proud of what I wrote, and proud of my ability to crank out ideas and words when the universe conspires to grant me healthy working conditions. The story is one that I think I will work into novelly form rather than trying to finish the script on my own time. I really encourage any of you who started a script (ILEANA!), even if you only wrote one page, to head over to the ScriptFrenzy site before midnight local time and enter a page count. Do not discount the warm fuzzy power of the page-count widget, even if you only enter the number 1. Okay, full disclosure, the page-count widget for NaNoWriMo is more warm and fuzzy, but ScriptFrenzy is on a budget. Still!! Your page-count is awesome and it is yours! A year ago, could you have imagined that you'd even try a script? It's so cool.

*sigh*

Ok, back to disclosures.

April (hereafter known as the Month of the Endless Demon Virus) was a bitch. I am having a seriously hard time feeling good right now. It would be easy to blame it on the bad bout of viruses, the long slog between getting myself and the rest of the family nominally healthy over the past few weeks. Spiced with the disappointment about falling short of the writing goal. But the truth is, I think I was struggling with enthusiasm and satisfaction even before The Month of Endless Demon Virus went awry.

I am trying to remain hopeful. My family is awesome. I have good people and good things in my life. (count yourselves among them) I know this. I am trying to remember to be patient. To let myself heal. To get through all of the sick drugs and start eating normally again. To not get frustrated when I can't do all of the things that I normally do.

The patience is a struggle for me.

While I wait around trying to be patient, I'm trying to do a few things that might help things along. I'm taking all of my medicine (which is thankfully almost finished). I'm trying to eat good food and drink gallons of water, and a lot of chocolate. On the theory that my body might be missing something, but I can't figure it out because I can't smell or taste anything yet, I am planning to bring home a variety of flavorful foods from the grocery store tomorrow, including some spicy nori rolls with wasabe, the fixings for lasagna with Italian sausage, the fixings for a key lime pie, a jar of hot salsa and some good tortilla chips, and a bag of doritos. Yeah, ok, the doritos might be a bit redundant with the tortilla chips. I'll get a coke instead. Right now, I am enjoying my first beer for three weeks. It is good. Heck, maybe I'll even get the ingredients to take up the Yummy Mummy's hot dog challenge. If I can manage to breathe, I might even run.

Sonar X5 has counseled (sweet child) that I should try doing something crazy. With a wrinkled-nose-smile and a giggle he shrugged off specific suggestions though, so I'll have to get back to you on that one. Sonar X3 suggested that it would help if everyone tried to be nice. Hear hear. Sonar X7 suggested the lasagna. Partner suggested a strategic application of hot oil, though the language he whispered in my ear was much more colorful.

Bring it on. I'll try it all. It would just be so nice to feel a little bit good for a change.

So spill it. What do you do when you feel a little blue? What strategies and rituals and tips do you employ for a little warm fuzzy, for a little bit of good when everything else gets you down? I'm only asking because I suspect the next step might involve velcroing the children to the wall and throwing plates, and nobody really wants me to be THAT person. Not even me.

Eglentyne |

2 Comments |

tagged

Germinology,

Overthinking,

Therapy,

Why You Should Not Set Fire to Your Children

Monday

Apr282008

Statistics

Posted on

Monday, April 28, 2008 at 1:04PM

With apologies to the Harper's "Index":

$748.72; our monthly health insurance premium.
$15; copayment anytime one of us wishes to see a physician in a clinical setting for any reason.
$100; copayment anytime one of us wishes to see a physician in an emergent setting for any reason.
$95; cost for the ineffectual flu shots we got back in October.
6; number of days this flu took to infect all five of us, as measured by first onset of symptoms.
6; minimum number of pounds I've lost since first onset of flu symptoms on Thursday.
4; minimum number of pounds lost by Sonar X7 since first onset of flu symptoms last Monday (I stopped checking, this freaked me out too much).
$150; average monthly drug costs for our family, including allergy and asthma meds.
$217.96; cost of one week of additional drugs for treatment of the flu (still accumulating).
$60; cost of doctor visits during this epic flu battle (still accumulating).
$29.95; cost of the "Cough Your Way to Rock Hard Abs" DVD, hosted by Archie Fleming.
2; rank of "Coughin' to the Oldies" among most popular fitness DVDs for "mature Americans."
1; rank of Feeling Like Your Tongue's Been Ripped out by the Root in underreported injuries among subscribers to Archie Fleming's Cough Your Way to Fitness series.
$29.95; cost of a cool hat, snazzy stainless steel water bottle, and some sunscreen to take with you outside, where you breathe fresh, clean air and move your body in a way that doesn't make you feel like you want to die.
500 (est.); loads of laundry we did yesterday.
1 (min.); large loads of laundry washed with the Load Size set to Small.

Figures cited to the best of my frenzied recollection as of as of five minutes ago. All figures have been adjusted for hyperbolic effect, except for the weight loss and actual health costs, which are really that horrifying. No seriously. Go ahead and multiply 748.72 by 12. I'll wait. Now know that we consider ourselves lucky to have such good (though pricey) health insurance. My sister has to work nine months before she earns that much money, and she does that without receiving any health benefits whatsoever. Yeah, I know it's wrong too. And yeah, I think "mature American" might be an oxymoron. Go drink some orange juice.

Eglentyne |

3 Comments |

tagged

Germinology,

National Bureau of Random Exclamations,

Overthinking

Thursday

Mar132008

Pink and Fluffy

Posted on

Thursday, March 13, 2008 at 1:59PM

I saw this sweater pattern in Vogue Knitting Fall 2006, and fell in love with the luscious gigantic cabled collar (it's called Cable Trim Pullover). Doesn't it just look like you could sink yourself into its yummy squishiness? There was also a curiosity factor, in that I've done some small cables, but never a gigantic Cable 20. So I started to hunt up yarn and came up with AlpacaWare Superfine Alpaca in light pink, cheap on eBay.

I knit the pieces of the sweater many months ago. I've lost track how long. Probably more than a year ago, truth be told. I was very very careful in my preparation. I swatched (i.e. made a test square), in the totally proper way with the recommended number of stitches, plus a non-rolling border. Then washed and shaped and dried the swatch before measuring and adjusting needles sizes at least three or four times. I was good, and for me, incredibly patient in the preparation. I ended up going up several needle sizes to get the correct gauge (essential when one wants to produce a sweater that approximates the desired size), but I *did* get the correct gauge.

Then I knit the thing.

It took me a few weeks, as I recall, and then the pieces sat around the house, moved from surface to surface, stuffed into a bag, then into a closet. The knitting was done. Completed. Finito. I just had to seam together these pieces into the yummy sweater. But the sweater I had such a fatuous crush on had lost it's allure. I was already worried then that it had come out a bit too small. The yarn is really rather fussy and delicate, not wanting to be tugged or pulled or pushed too much this way or that. And I really dreaded trying to set in those sleeves without doing some wacky stretchy damage to the whole thing.

A couple of weeks ago, in a fit of "Let's finish some damn knitting already!" I pulled out the pieces and seamed them all together. To be sure, my sleeve joins are really shoddy. But I thought maybe some of that would relax out in the steaming and blocking.

All seamed, I put it on. Hm. WAY too short. Which was weird, because I measured carefully and, as I recall, added a few extra rows in the middle to make it a bit longer than the pattern called for.

Deep breath. I decided I could fix that by--those of you who might be slightly squeamish about knitting might want to look the other way--cutting off the bottom band, picking up the stitches left raw, and knitting some more bottom onto that thing. I have to say that the idea of cutting the yarn, with the inherent risk of the whole thing, all that work, being reduced back into a wad of string, really did make me feel queasy. But I braced myself and convinced myself that it would be a good adventure.

The bravest knitters would cut first and ask questions and pick up stitches later, but this being my first foray into knittacide, I decided to place a lifeline--two actually--before I cut. That's the bluey/yellowy/greeny stripe. I put two so that I could save the ribbing and reattach it when the sweater was long enough. As it turned out, I decided to make a bottom hem rather than a ribbed hem and tossed the ribbing into the stash bucket.

Knit knit knit knit.

I could have just folded over and SEWN down the knitting to make the bottom hem, but the yarn fumes went to my head and I decided I'd kitchener the hem in place, which was stupid. It took FOREVER and required me to pick up stitches along the place where the them would join so that I didn't twist it and make it weird. Ahem. I still twisted it and made it weird. But you can't tell now unless you turn it inside out and look really closely and are generally picky and rude. Shame on you.

Finished (finally), I tried it on again. Gr. Still TOO SHORT.

Then I put on my knitting thinking cap. This was really weird, because I measured the sweater, measured myself, measured the length from armpit to hem on a top with a flattering length, and these numbers all matched up. When the sweater was on the table. When the sweater went on me..... no more matchy.

I decided to measure the sweater the other way. Turns out it's a teensy bit smaller than me. Like more than four inches around less than me. Some sweaters can support that degree of negative ease. Not this one and not on me. When the sweater stretched out to cover my circumference, the yarn had to come from somewhere: the length. Mystery solved.

There's really no way I can make this pretty little sweater fit me, so, in honor of Sweater Day, I am offering it up, to anyone who would love it or who knows someone who would love it. Price negotiable.

Here are the specs: Chest 31" Waist 27" Hip 32" Neck-to-hem 21.5" Armpit-to-cuff 18"

I will mail the sweater, complete with a handful of spare yarn (in case of catastrophe or the desire to reconnect the sleeves in a less shoddy manner).

I don't even like pink. ;)

Eglentyne |

Twitter Updates

Entries in Overthinking (11)

Partner sweater countdown

Runner?

Full Disclosure

Statistics

Pink and Fluffy