Cables, Wires, and Other Things

I have a confession to make: I love cables.

Banal and humdrum an admission as this may be, for the longest time, I didn't think cables were something I'd ever like doing. I don't know about you, but there are a great many knitting things that I sort of wish I could get someone else to do: picking up more than a handful of stitches, for example; weaving in ends; untangling the last bit of a yarn cake, et cetera.

Cabling, however, has been a real surprise to me over the years. Now--like most knitters and craftspeople, I am willing to suffer (to a degree) for my art, but what began as a grudging 'fiiiine' whenever it came to actually cabling, has become a perky 'oooh, yay!'. And it isn't that I'm not perky, but my reaction to cabling is a bit more pixie-bright than most.

My relationship with this technique began pretty poorly. I'd taught myself how to cast on, knit, purl, rib, etc, and I decided I wanted to attempt a sweater. What can I say-- I was a precocious baby knitter. Now, I knew that cable needles existed because they were in Michaels and I knew you used them to knit big circles: and what is a sweater if not a big, knit tube?

So off to Michaels I went! coupon in hand, I picked up seven skeins of Lion Brand Thick n' Quick and a cable needle. To give you some idea of the depth of my knitting knowledge, here is how I selected what needle to pick: I consulted the ball band for suggested needle size (little did I know that I did and do still need at least two needle sizes larger than suggested in order to get gauge), and then picked the length of needle that would fit all the way around me. I remember taking the needle out of the package carefully, unwinding the stiff cable and holding it around my chest-- you know, to make sure it would match my circumference. Which made complete sense to me. Thirty-six inch, huge-gauge needle in hand, I checked out, pleased with myself for being so clever.

Yeah, kind of like this. *shudder*

So I did with anyone with a faulty understanding of how knitting works would: I cast on enough stitches to fit on the length of the cable needle and started knitting. Now, the first problem with this became apparent pretty quickly: the number of stitches that will fit on a 36" cable needle is not necessarily the number of stitches it will take to knit a 36" circumference garment. So it was more like 36" in diameter-- fine, I like big sweaters. So I kept knitting.

That was my first mistake.

Then I decided that just knitting endlessly in the round (while novel-- look, ma, no purls!) was pretty boring. So, naturally, I consulted my Knitting Field Guide and found a simple cable. Easy enough. Fortunately, I didn't have trouble thinking I had to physically twist the stitches together so the cabling itself, while near-impossible on a giant, blunt Clover circ, was actually pretty fun. I also had no concept of how to figure out which direction the cable would cross so although the cables lined up (sort of), they were not crossed over consistently. Fine-- it's a design feature.

That was my second mistake.

So I knit this huge, hideous tube until it was the length of my entire torso, shoulder to hip (not counting the extra that hung from the enormous size of the thing). And then I realized that I had no idea how to make sleeves, let alone attach them in some cogent way to the body.

So I abandoned the project. I meant to eventually pick it up again, I meant to maybe make it into a dress or a couch slip cover (okay, a pillow.. but it was still pretty darn big), but I didn't. In hindsight, I could have sewed up the bottom and used it as an industrial trashcan liner. This poorly conceived and even more poorly executed thing is still in my childhood house in Southern California-- lurking.

That said, cabling and I are a thing now. We're an item. We're going steady. We're pinned. My boyfriend is jealous of cables and my love. Not really, but almost.

Exhibit A

Exhibit B

Exhibit C

Exhibit D 

(Remember these? They are taking forever. I'm in the middle of the second one now.)

I have many more examples but I don't wish to bore you. Well, not entirely true... I could talk for days about cabling. In fact, I sat down with the resolve to show you my collection of cable needles but then I realized belatedly that I don't use them anymore. That's right-- all of the above cabling was done with no needle. No safety net. I'm a rebel, after all.

If you've never attempted to cable without a needle, I highly recommend it; if only for it's death-denying, free-wheelin' loose stitches. I always feel a little bit like a shepherd rounding up my flock as I slip the stitches back onto my working needles. 

Basically in sum: CABLES. Knit them! 

That's what I've got. Now to finish these darn Glittens before winter ends and I can't wear them for another billion years. 

Passing It On

This may be something of a small departure from my normal attempts at a coherent blog post, but bear with me. I swear, it is still (however tangentially) knitting-related.

I don't know about you, but I often get the sense of being isolated. Not necessarily at home, but certainly in my life outside the private sphere. Certainly, this has to do with not often making eye contact and at least attempting to go about my errands and such with a sense of purpose and direction. That is to say, unless I'm in a yarn or fabric store, I try very much not to wander around aimlessly. If I am in a grocery store and I just need a package of tofu and a head of cabbage, look out: I will politely wait for you to move and then relentlessly find the head of cabbage I am looking for.

But in all seriousness, I often get this disconnected feeling, sort of like that annoying, disheartening busy signal on the phone. Pulsing and uncaring, or worse yet-- that three-note, trill, "be-Ee-EP! We're sorry but the number..." 

I try not to be that sort of person-- I try to genuinely smile and engage with clerks and customer service representatives, I compliment people when I feel the need to... Although I have a pretty profoundly unfriendly neutral expression, for all intents and purposes, I am not truly unfriendly. 

So imagine my surprise today when I found that I'm not quite as marooned on an island of my own making as I originally thought. 

The news came to me in what was a pretty innocuous comment made by a coworker/friend/human that I often converse with. She is bright and friendly and also shares my paradoxical love of both Hello Kitty and zombies. It was easy to begin chatting with her about bento and video games and all manner of nerdy/cute/fun things. She came to admire the knitting projects that I often wear to the office (I sit under an air conditioning vent so this is more practicality than vanity).

Yeah, this is (one of) my lunch boxes. 

(I actually bring between three and four containers of food to work daily. It's hard out there for a vegan with culinary-based sensibilities.) 

And then she said it-- essentially, she had been telling her daughter about me and my... exploits, I guess, specifically in the field of knitting, and the reaction of this young woman was the desire to learn how to knit. 

I was charmed, of course, and then a little taken aback. Surely, this was some innate desire to learn already in the girl. From what I understand, she is rather crafty. Still, the sensation that-- well, maybe I may not have been the root cause, but I was at least a catalyzing agent was nevertheless profound.

When I think about people regarding me, both my character and my physique, I generally assume that it is negative. Probably not the healthiest frame of mind, but nevertheless a realistic portrayal of my train of thought. To find that I am admired if not, dare I say it-- mildly idolized? This is nothing short of an epiphany.

I was this young woman's age when I started knitting and apart from the somewhat ageist treatment I receive(d) in some yarn stores, there is no better time to hone your skills. Despite how it feels in high school and even in college while pursuing a bachelor's degree-- one still has quite a bit of free time in which to improve technique and make some neat practical applications in wool and other fibers. Nothing quite like having the neatest pair of handmade woolen gloves while your friends and shivering in their acrylic, mass produced attempts at warmth. 

So I gave my coworker/friend/human some advice about knitting tutorials (knittinghelp.com 4 LYFE), some information about where to buy, what to get, some suggestions on a first project, suggestions about yarn, etc.

I was feeling bolstered after this exchange. In fact, I still am, even as I chronicle this rather inexplicable event. 

Adding to the serendipity of this occasion is that I am currently listening to an audiobook that features predominantly the Dalai Lama's thoughts on happiness. Lasting, profound happiness, he says, comes from realizing the connection between all beings and the feeling of compassion towards one another.

Pass it on, everyone: we are each uniquely awesome and no one thinks as ill about us as we do ourselves.

So chalk this up to the vast interconnections of mankind. Also, I'm feeling pretty pleased with myself.

Here, There & Everywhere

Well, this week has been hectic.

I was away from home for six days on a business trip and during that time I got shamefully little done in terms of knitting.

Certainly, I did a lot of work-work. I formatted a lot of spreadsheets, I wrote a lot of emails, I worked face-to-face with a lot of new and often endearing people. However, I am completely exhausted from traveling and living in an unfamiliar place. As I have previously established, I am a creature of habit and without my habitual spaces and people, I get a little... loopy.

Maybe it was due to the sleep deprivation-- after all, I was sleeping on weird, not-my-pillows; there was no cat trying to eat my feet; there was no boyfriend's comforting presence. Maybe it was due to the stress of my job-situation. Maybe it was the on-going foraging for food... and let me just digress for a moment to say that I am frustrated that in high-stress situations, people (I am also guilty of this, though I try not to be) tend to admire it when their coworkers/fellows disregard their very human, biological needs in favor of 'working hard'.

I'm going to come out and say it: it is not admirable to forego food, sleep, water, or any other physical needs for the perceived importance of work. Unless you are saving lives directly, maybe it's okay to take a break and eat a granola bar or down a bottle of water. I swear, I was dodging hate-glares because I, at a point, stopped and said 'you know, I'm parched, I'm going to grab a drink, do you want something?' Is that so very terrible? Dehydration is apparently an accurate measurement of how dedicated you are to your job. Sure it is.

Anyway. I did very few things I enjoyed while away. Which is just a different kind of shameful.

I made a little progress on a project I started with my birthday yarn-- I would make more, but I find that I'm knitting much tighter than usual, resulting in a somewhat painful experience (care of Chiagoo's awesome lace tips). But! It's coming along.

I'm calling these 'Celtic Vulcan', due to the split in the fingers.

Ultimately, my time away (as it always does) made me incredibly grateful for my home. My boyfriend had a home-cooked meal prepared for me when I walked in the door (seriously, he is objectively the best boyfriend ever), the cat put aside his "I'm not paying any attention to you" mannerisms for a while and we all sat, watched a silly show on Netflix, and reconnected. 

There is little that is better in this world than coming home.

Refurbishment & Capital Letters

I am a creature of habit.

I find comfort in things that are and will be the same. I know that this is not unusual for humans but I think this preference runs a little deeper in me than in most. For example I have a playlist that I've built of only my most-favorite songs that I listen to almost every day and despite knowing every word and the order of every song, I keep listening to it because, gosh darn it, I like it. I know it.

You may notice that I'm actually in the middle of a layout change. I'm working with a very talented graphic designer friend of mine, Brianna Blue, to add a certain je ne sais quoi to what would otherwise be a pretty bland, generic blog template. Please check out her website for more awesome designs.

In practice, it's a little more than a makeover, even. The fancy banner at the top of the page and all of its accouterments actually constitutes a pretty Big and Scary thing for me: progress towards a Vague and Potentially Unattainable Goal.

For as long as I've been knitting (and that's actually been a fair number of years now... seven or eight, depending), I've wanted to do something Bigger and Net Positive with it. I always knew that I enjoyed knitting. Even when I wasn't really sure why knitting a stitch and then purling a stitch ended up geometrically increasing the number of stitches on my needles, I knew that I liked working with my hands. And by the time I figured out that throwing one's stitches means having to move one's yarn to either the front or back of one's knitting to prevent unintentional yarn-overs, I was pretty fixated on this vague idea that I'd like to do Something with this

All of these capital letters do a poor job of illustrating the discomfort of doing a workaday job that has very little to do with your actual interests that leaves you too mentally and emotionally exhausted to do much else. Performing a job function admirably can be its own reward, but not necessarily when you've got your heart set on something else. All the capital letters in the world can't adequately explain coming home from a day of spreadsheets, weeping and unfulfilled. Frustrated that this Isn't What You Want and Why Did I Let Myself Become This?

So you decide that, maybe, it's time to try something else.

Then comes the nagging sense that even if you could find a job or niche to fill with your preferred skilled set, would it transfigure the passion of your life into something menial and ultimately soul-sucking? The doubts and fears come slinking in, black and inky, and start to mar the dream you'd begun to cultivate in your head. Because there isn't enough room for you to dream with all those pragmatic thoughts in your head-- there is always someone more talented and more poised to succeed than you. Why even bother?

I still daily struggle with this self-defeating idea. Some days, I kick it in the face. Some days, I valiantly ignore the doubts gnawing on me like an overzealous terrier... some days, and they seem to still be more numerous than the others, I can only do my absolute best not to agree in despair.

There's nothing quite like putting yourself out there. For as much as I don't much care for change or strife or struggle, I'm still here. I've still started this blog, I've still worked with a graphic designer to make some lovely designs. I'm Trying and, for me, that's huge. It's momentous.

As someone who has been known not to try because there's the off-chance that any attempt might end in abject failure, doing Anything still amounts to a pretty big Something.

Even though I'm not exactly sure where this Something might take me, I'm still pleased to be attempting it, nevertheless.

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My birthday was last Saturday and while I spent the weekend miserably sick with the flu, I was still the recipient of some excellent yarn-related gifts.

My dearest boyfriend took me to Fancy Tiger Crafts in Denver, Colorado where he thoroughly spoiled me by purchasing me an armload of yarn. He kept asking 'are you sure this is enough? You knit so fast, I don't think this is enough-- go pick out more'. What knitter could possibly ignore a phrase like that? Yeah, I think I'll keep him around. Not just because he willingly wandered around a high-end yarn store with me for the better part of an hour without complaint... though that certainly doesn't hurt the case for him...

I ended up with two skeins of Madelinetosh Light Merino in Saffron to make a Maple Leaf Shawl, a skein of Madelinetosh Tosh DK in Moodland to make a pair of Glittens, and a skein of Madelinetosh Sock in Tart to make a pair of No Glove(s), No Love.

Glittens sounds so borderline obscene but it's a nice pattern...

You may have noticed a slight obsession on my part towards Madelinetosh. Yes, it's true. MadTosh and I have a torrid love affair going on. I was going to diversify and get some Quince & Co or something instead but then I figured-- who am I kidding? It's my birthday, I'll MadTosh if I want to. 

Thank you to the ladies at the Fancy Tiger. I swear, I didn't sneeze or sniffle on anything, despite how flu-zombie'd I may have looked. Thank you for not throwing my butt out into the snow.