Guilt(y) Purchases

So I am one of those people who apologizes for asking people to perform the duties of their jobs. When I call the pharmacy, for example, I apologize for taking up the pharmacist's time. If I need to return something or ask a question of a sales associate, I apologize profusely for bothering them. Heaven forbid I do waste someone's time by asking after a product that the store doesn't carry or by starting to ask a question, only to answer it myself.

Perhaps I've worked a little bit too much in the realm of customer service, but I've acquired a very reluctant demeanor when it comes to taking up the time of people whose job it is (during working hours) to have their time taken up by me.

Call it silly, call it unnecessary, it nevertheless is.

Which leads me to yesterday's events.

I found that I had to go the yarn store; I needed to compared colors in real life and not just hope that my monitor and a website's camera were both calibrated the same so that I could make some informed purchases. I arrived at my nearest local yarn shop and, as per usual, I declined the offer of assistance when I walked through the door. I riffled for a bit through the sale section, got startled by another shop attendant while doing so (they're like ninjas!), and then made my way towards the Brown Sheep NatureSpun Sport. I was on a mission, detour aside.

So I plopped down in front of the display and began pulling colors to compare them to one another. I eventually found a combination that I found pleasing and was careful to put each skein back into the correct cubby to avoid confusion for future customers/sales folk.

And then I was done.

I rose and took a step towards the door. It was then that the guilt began. The nagging and the sense of being ungrateful for taking up floor space in the (admittedly large) store with my -brief- color comparison. So I wheeled around, piloted by the sense that I should really buy something, and inspected the shop's selection of cottons-- there had been two skeins of a cotton bouclé in the clearance section that were appealing to me but lacked sufficient yardage... no, no cotton today. So I looked over the Cascade 220-- nope, don't need/want any of that...

And it continued in this fashion. I'd pass a section, thinking maybe something would call to me and I could buy a little something to assuage the guilt I was feeling. I was asked again if I needed help: "No, no thank you. I'm just looking." I'd smile at that and try to ignore the somewhat bewildered expression on the saleswoman's face.

On an unrelated note, I tend to get strange looks in yarn stores. Apparently, being under 30 (40, 50?) in a yarn store means you don't know what you're doing and/or looking for.

I remembered that I'd been charmed by a pattern I'd seen on Ravelry a few days before-- Hanging Leaves from an upcoming book, Botanical Knits 2. Normally, I'd scoff at the suggestion that I should knit with laceweight as the pattern suggested... but I was getting desperate at this point. So I hunkered down in front of the Mountain Colors lace weight and perused the colors one by one.

I think I was making the shop ladies anxious... either that, or I'm projecting heavily my own feelings of unease on them.

Eventually, I came up with a pair of lace weights- a Mountain Colors and a skein of Classic Elite Silky Alpaca Lace. They're both very pretty, though not necessarily something I would purchase without the impetus of retail guilt.

I took my yarn selection to the counter, feeling relieved, and asked to pay for my purchases with store credit I'd previously accumulated. Of course, I apologized for having an unusual name that is difficult to spell and pronounce-- "Yes, that's it... sorry." It took the sales clerk a moment to find my store credit card, partially because my name was spelled incorrectly on it. "Yeah, sorry. Weird name."

With my purchase made, I quickly departed and found myself wondering what percentage of purchases are made strictly on the basis of guilt.

My friend recently told me that when she visited a country in Southeastern Asia (though, of course, I can't remember specifically which), she told me that if you go into a shop, you are compelled to buy something there. This is partially because the store owner proceeds to follow you around, asking you questions and trying to get you something you want, but partially because, as she explained it, the social contract there is that the very act of entering a store means you will spend money there.

Sometimes I feel similarly, especially small, boutique-style stores. Even departing with a cheerful "thank you!" after having looked around and found nothing to purchase leaves me cringing.

But maybe that's just me.

Still, I ended up with some pretty yarn and I'll be well prepared when this pattern does finally come out... hopefully, I can avoid too many awkward sensations of guilt between now and then.

Ode to a Good Blanket

Remember when I posted about the project that took forever? Well, I guess I should clarify somewhat. It did take forever, of course, and the project that I compared it to took even longer, but I actually have a WIP that has been on my needles off and on since July, 2012. Now, before you break out the inaccuracy pitchforks, know that it was an honest mistake. I tend to forget about this project, hence the stupid-long amount of time I've been working on this.

Introducing the small and needling thorn in my side: That New Crayon Smell.

Notice the fact that it is still a WIP and only about 60% completed of yet. After two years.

It started innocently enough, really. I had a few (okay, a lot) of skeins of Noro Kureyon on hand and I decided that rather than hoarding them like some kind of deranged wool-dragon, I should use them up.

You see, I had developed something of an obsession with Noro brand yarn. In particular, I found that almost every time I visited my LYS, I came away with another oddball skein of Kureyon. At the time, I was living in Santa Barbara, California and my favorite LYS was the incomparable Cardigans. Although there has been a change of ownership since I moved away, it appears that the legacy that Pam Price started there is still alive and well. This alone pleases me as I often wish I could visit Cardigans as easily as I could when I lived mere miles away. Cardigans is and always will be my ideal yarn shop.

During this time, I was working as a long-suffering waitress in downtown SB. I had a pleasant enough demeanor and I didn't spill things on guests too often so I made decent tips... the real problem is that I was deeply unhappy. Not necessarily with the job, not necessarily with my apartment or my car or what have you but the entire situation was entirely too taxing for me.

So that's how I ended up at Cardigans more often than not. I'd chat with Pam and sometimes I'd knit at the table with a few other regulars and usually, I'd spend a portion of my tips on a pretty, inexplicable ball of Kureyon. Unlike many of my purchases then and now, I didn't have a specific plan for the balls I purchased but I found their color and somewhat scratchy texture irresistible.

After I had amassed a not-insignificant number of skeins and schlepped them all the way to Colorado, I took it upon myself to finally do something with them.

After a bit of searching, I decided upon the pattern 64 Crayons by Amy Swenson. It definitely wasn't the most interesting pattern but, at the time, I wasn't feeling up to short rows so Lizard Ridge was out and the other patterns I found just weren't inspiring to me. So I selected the pattern, made my purchase, and then I noticed that this pattern had been written for the very purpose I intended to use it: to use up Kureyon that had been purchased as a band-aid measure to dissatisfaction. Seems I wasn't the only one who sought refuge in bright colors and familiar texture.

Another advantage of this pattern is that it is knit in strips. Essentially, it's like knitting a ribbed scarf a la Jared Flood's Noro Striped Scarf though, admittedly, shorter. So I set off with that in mind, to knit a strip every other project and eventually come out of it with a new woolen blanket. That was the plan, anyway.

In reality, I get distracted like a magpie. I rush off to the newest yarn (hello, Madelinetosh!), the newest pattern that I just have to make... and all the while, my patient blanket has been waiting for me, folded neatly with all its composite skeins in a large storage bag in my stash. I'm currently on the forth strip (2 small, 2 large total) of the six I'm meant to have for a decent-sized lap blanket.

And still the project abides, kind and waiting for me. On Valentine's Day, for example, I accidentally left my project bag in the booth of a Chinese Restaurant. I returned for it the next day (not before casting on for Khoshekh though, mind you), and promptly went upstairs to my current LYS. I was making a return, but I don't think my blanket strip would have much minded if I'd made another purchase, started yet another pattern while it continued to be put up on a shelf in favor of something more interesting.

I suppose that it's a good sort of sensation to get from a soon-to-be blanket; warm, acceptance. Heaven forbid I or anyone else ever try to knit a demanding, harsh blanket.

But I think I'll make a bit more of an effort on this project-- it's waited long enough and though the weather's been in the 50s and 60s, I could still use a nice blanket under which to curl up and relax.

We all could use that, I think.

A New Addition

I seem to have acquired a new pet today!

I was taking a stroll through my apartment complex when I noticed something rustling in a nearby bush. I approached cautiously and saw a curious but sweet little face peeking out at me:

He seemed friendly enough so after a moment of indecision with those big, opalescent eyes staring unblinkingly out at me, I carefully scooped him out of the brush.

I dusted him off a little bit he didn't seem too worse for wear... maybe a little bit stranger-looking than I might have originally thought...

In so much as I am knowledgeable about feline-cephalopod anatomy would allow, I determine that he was in good health... at least all of his little paws--tentacles were intact? He didn't have a nose as such so it was difficult to test whether or not it were cold and/or wet.

Best of all, though, he seems pretty friendly:

So I brought him inside and introduced him to Herr Kittie... thus far, Kittie is pretty ambivalent about our newest addition. I'm not too worried about either of them, though; Kittie is too lazy to fight and our new house guest appears to have the ability to stick to any surface, making a quick escape simply of matter of slithering up the nearest wall.

I hope he'll be happy here, but I'm worried he might be getting a little home sick:

Plausible Map of Night Vale by Melissa Dalton

Things are good here and I am most pleased with my newest project, Octopuss by Jill Watt. I couldn't resist using the pattern to make myself one of my favorite characters from my favorite podcast, Welcome to Night Vale, Khoshekh! 

If you are into any and all things H.P. Lovecraft, or Twin Peaks, or just general weirdness, check out Welcome to Night Vale.

I hope everyone had a lovely Valentine's Day and an equally nice weekend. I myself just wanted to do a quick, silly post because I was just too excited about my newest FO.

Also, I just wanted to give you all a heartfelt thank you for bringing my modest blog to over 200 pageviews. I am thrilled-beyond-thrilled to offer words and pictures and much silliness to all of you. Thank you!

Murphy's Law and Other Constants

So the good news is that I finally finished the gloves I've been working on. Huzzah. I'm ashamed to admit that these took me the second-longest of all the projects I have ever knitted.

To give you some sort of perspective on how ridiculous I think this is, here is the only project that exceeds these gloves in time taken:

Matyev's Bedjacket

Yeah. That's all-over stranded colorwork worked in the round then steeked... not to mention hours and hours worth of duplicate stitch in several colors. I'm actually a little bit bitter about the time this (admittedly beautiful) project took... mostly because my shoulders are sloped enough that this falls right off of me when I attempt to wear it. 

At any rate, I don't do well with projects taking so long. I'm much more accustomed to knocking out two or three projects per month-- that's a rate I can definitely get behind. 

Things as they are, however, I'm lucky if I'm able to knit during my lunch break at work and perhaps for a few minutes in the evening. Seems I've finally made the horrid transition into Normal Adult Life and, thus, have much less time for all the things I'd rather be doing. 

I don't believe I've outright mentioned it in a post, but I have several other past times very much apart from knitting. Shocking, I know. The things that take the most time are, inexplicably, not craft related: I belly dance and I lift weights. Stating that so plainly makes it seem a little paradoxical but it's true. I have a couple dance classes a week (and the occasional performance), as well as lifting heavy at the gym a few times a week. Throw that in the mix with cooking and trying to make sure the house isn't a complete disaster, suddenly I have a lot less time to devote to knitting.

I shall have to work on that.

So here are the long belated gloves:

And they're lovely and so incredibly warm. I knit them at a much tighter gauge than suggested to make up for my very short fingers... it made the actual knitting less than pleasant (lace-tipped needles + cables knit through the back loop + tighter than usual gauge = ouch) but the result is quite nice.

Of course, though, the day I finished them, it was too warm to wear them-- but I've come to accept this about my life and accomplishments. Nevertheless, it has cooled back down again and now there is ample opportunity to wear weird split-fingered glove/mitten hybrids.

Just after I finished these, I quickly cast on for a hat for Tim. He asked so nicely for a hat that wasn't too long and that he could wear casually around the house and office. I was happy to oblige him and pawed through a veritable mountain of leftover mostals and came up with a coordinating pair of Cascade 220 balls in some shade of brown and Pumpkin Spice Heather (courtesy of the Doctor Who scarf I finished for him recently). I blithely started knitting Stephen West's Botanic hat. It's a lovely, simple pattern that I have made previously. 

And then I became very aware of the fact that the darker brown yarn was running out awfully quickly... I started to get that familiar sinking feeling that accompanies poor planning.

But disaster was averted in the end: I ended up having a whole 5 inches of yarn left over. That's practically a mile. Made it with yarn to spare! Take that, Murphy's Law! Haha!

Feeling perhaps overly confident and maybe just a little swollen with pride, I cast on yet another project! 

This time it was Alchemy Yarn's Scribble Me Timbers cowl. I'd picked up some (non-Alchermy) yarn of a novelty sort recently on credit... I was feeling untouchable and not even weirdly scratchy-textured yarn could defeat me.

And this is the result: 

I promptly gave this away upon completion and, of course, didn't get a FO picture

You will notice that this looks rather nothing like the sample.

I find myself recalling earlier during the weekend when I noticed I'd made a mistake while casting on Tim's Botanic hat. I sat back with a huge sigh, flicking my work away in disgust. Tim looked over and asked me what was wrong. I moaned: "Why don't I ever read instructions?" Without skipping a beat, he supplied: "Hubris?"

Touché, Tim.

Touché, Murphy's Law.

Let's Talk About Color

For those of you who have seen my Ravelry projects page, you may have come to the conclusion that I am, in fact, completely enthralled by color. In the vein of 'pics or it didn't happen', I present to you the inside of my cedar chest:

Both highly colorful and highly disorganized!

As a little girl, I wore a wide variety of colors (I'm told, though some of that may have been under maternal duress) but as I got a little older, my wardrobe became more and more monochromatic. If I'm completely honest, by the time I hit high school, one could rightly classify the contents of my closet as 'melancholy' and 'drab'. Now, this isn't to say that my clothes weren't nice-- they were! It's just that every piece I owned was, invariably, black or grey. Not even white. Black or grey. I wasn't even inherently adverse to color-- I mean, I quite liked it, I just didn't know what to do with it.

This is no longer the case, fortunately. My stocking/legwarmer/tights collection alone would have sent my high school self into melodramatic conniptions. To give you some idea of the extent of my depravity: last night I went to Target and -wonder of wonders!- the entire stock of opaque-ish tights that are normally $5 each were on clearance for $3.something each. I may have a minor weakness for both clearance items and colorful tights.

Anyway, I picked up three pairs of tights: turquoise, teal, and damask blue. I got home, pleased with my purchase and realized that I already had that exact pair of turquoise tights. Not even a different pair of turquoise tights-- the same. pair. Fortunately, I was able to pawn the still-sealed pair off onto a friend so it was not a complete waste.

The inclusion of color into my wardrobe is something I credit largely to my knitting. Before knitting, it was easy enough to always wear black and grey because, dammit, it always matched. When I started knitting, however, I had absolutely zero interest in black yarn: it was simply too hard to see the stitches, first off, and second-- have you seen a yarn store recently? It's a riot of color! It's so loud and wonderful and even though I was doing a lot of my purchasing in Michaels, there was still so much to look at! The first time I visited my first local yarn shop, I thought I might actually die of chromatic happiness.

One of my first finished objects was a pair of somewhat hideous legwarmers (I still wear and get a disproportionately huge number of compliments on them) made from Lion Brand Homespun in some muted rainbow-ish colorway. At the time, this was the first shock of color my wardrobe had seen for years.

Um, yeah, that's a toe ring.

During the successive years, I've had quite the opposite problem as before: there is, perhaps, too much color in my wardrobe. I've actually had to rein things back a little and try to put a little bit of neutrality back into my knit goods. I've actually had to knit a few grey shawls recently, just to offset the Crayola-bright look my clothes have attained of late.

Mostly, I'm okay with it. Knitting the occasional neutral-colored thing (which reminds me-- I need to make something in navy blue and/or black forthwith) is tolerable in the grand scheme of things as long as it keeps me, generally, in technicolor.