Time Warp Fiber

I am a sock knitter. I always have at least one pair of socks on the go, two or more is more common. Now this was not always so, early in my knitting career, I was actually afraid of socks. All those tiny stitches and three=dimension thought processes made me shiver. Now socks are my mindless knitting, for trains and cinemas. This goes to prove that the knitting goddesses are not without irony.

So, sock knitting. I have enough yarn on hand currently for about twenty to twenty-five pairs of socks, maybe more, as I like short socks that take less yarn and incidentally, time. I also have in my drawer nine pairs of completed socks. I know this precisely because I counted. You see, the temperatures are now (occasionally) dipping into the frigid reaches below 65, and this indicates to my californian soul that it is now winter, and my need for wool socks is desperate. (why yes, it will be 80 degrees over the weekend, why do you ask?) So I counted up my socks, the days in the week, factored in my willingness to do laundry and the horrifying information that socks do indeed wear out. The result? I need more socks. Lots more.

About this same time, I received an email from my sister. Said email was an unabashed request for socks. It was even titled as such. It came on the heels of my mother-in-law gleefully telling me that her husband was in despair at his lack of handknit socks, and that she gloats at every opportunity. I should digress a moment here and mention a few things. First, in addition to my own sock hoarde, I have knit socks for a few other people, whether as intentional gifts, or because the wearer happened to have feet the size a pair turned out. I give these willingly, that others might know the joy of lovingly handmade footwear, but blithely unaware of potential consequences. Point two, I established a system whereby, in general, knitted gifts are given upon request only, particularly around the holidays. I found this a brilliant system, as I suspect even those most effusive with their thanks are secretly weirded out and never wear these items, and also that few people would be so interested and audacious to actually requested said items. Remember that divine irony I mentioned? Yep, so despite my personal paucity of socks, and my brilliant precautions, I now have gift socks on my docket. Rather a lot of them.

A few things add insult to injury. My sister know how to knit. You'd think she'd be self-sufficient on the sock front, but you'd be wrong. I shall remedy this soon, you know, teach a man to fish and all. But she at least likes relatively short socks and doesn't care about color, so I can pick what I want to look at. Also, her socks are without deadline, just so long as she gets them before the end of winter. She lives in Ohio, I've got time. The other pair, for my mother-in-law's husband, however, I would like to get done for solstice/yule/festivus. (Also, these are a surprise, but I feel confident that he doesn't know what a blog is. Just don't tell him, ok?) And, because of aforementioned irony, the man wears a size 11D, prefers very thin socks, also quite tall. Oh yeah, and he wears only navy blue or black. Grey is pushing it. According to size and yardage, just one of the gargantuan creations is as big as a whole pair for me.

Photos? No, I don't have any photos. I have, as yet, not cast on. Hope springs eternal, you see, and I shall not be deterred by the dwindling number of days before the giant socks must be shipped across the country, nor by the fact that it usually takes my a month to knit a pair of me socks. Holiday knitting and the accompanying denial must be a communicable illness. I blame the yarn harlot. (also, I have just cast off a pair for me)

disclaimer: For the sake of world peace, let me state explicitly that this post is tongue-in-cheek. I don't actually knit things I don't want to.  

While much of the world rejoices at the election of Barack Obama, I cannot help but find the victory bittersweet, emphasis on the former. Amidst his uplifting talk of hope, of change, of how far we've come, countless people went to the polls to spread bigotry and hate. They voted to hurt me, me and millions of others. So, yes, I am relieved that we have an intelligent, liberal, nonwhite president. I am pleased that some people set aside the horrific racism that is this nation's heritage. But I am in mourning for the state of a nation where people can vote to remove legitimacy and respect from others. A nation where, still, everyday, we pass unseen among you, an invisible community cutting across age, race, sex, faith, fighting for the same basic rights and freedoms that even convicted felons have. So rejoice on my behalf, my hypothetical reader, rejoice for me, because I can do nothing but mourn. So I will grieve and weep over my knitting and spinning, and try to channel my despair into creation. And maybe one day we will be able to stem the tide of destruction and hate.

This project was a long time coming. More than two years, actually. I started this in summer 2006, when I was wanting to learn lace and charts, neither of which I had done much of yet. I carefully copied out the chart from yummyyarn and color coded it. I made some progress, and then got caught up in other things. I'm like that with knitting, no project monogamy here. And, with all that happened in the intervening time, I keep picking this up for a few repeats, and then putting it away and forgetting all about it. As a result, this little scarf has been knit in many apartments, planes, visits to Virginia and Tennessee. Quite a lot of life caught up in its stitches. As an FO, it's nice, if not perfect. The yarn, BSA Alpaca Silk, blocks very nicely and has a nice sheen. I used every inch of two skeins, but it's still on the short side for my taste, a bit over 6 feet (about 2 meters). I like longer scarves to wrap around my neck, but this might be a nice indoor accent scarf, should I ever have occasion to dress like a grown up. Also, this makes two finished green scarves in a row. Check back for details about another on the needles. 

Remember than I'm a spinner too? And officially a carder as well. I've branched out an awful lot from that day in a coffee shop with acrylic yarn and a Lion Brand how to knit book. Blending fibers seemed like a natural progression from spinning and dyeing. This project was not so much to work with color as with fibers. I've had some trouble spinning slippery soysilk all by its lonesome, so I wanted some of that. And I had some leftover alpaca. Fleshed it out with good old wool and I was on the move. I'm still working on my carding technique, but it's getting easier. I tend to get between 5 and 8 grams per rolag. Does that sound about right to any carders out there? If you have an efficiency secret, I'd love to hear. I didn't strive for a perfect blend on this, I was aiming for a slubby sort of yarn, with little blips of each fiber taking center stage at times. As you can see in the sample (by the way, I actually sampled!) I think this worked out alright. I'm unsure as to whether I'll over dye this after it's been spun, what do you think? Off hand, I don't think I have any FO's in natural colors for myself, and I've been wanting a brown scarf, so maybe I'll leave it as is. Send happy spinning thoughts my way, as I'll be putting this on the wheel soon. I've had limited experienced wheel-spinning carded fiber, rather than combed, and certainly I've never spun my own amateur attempts on the wheel. Coming soon: a new FO and a sock parade.

If you live in California, that is. Now, some of you will know that one of the reasons I live in California is to be rid of the every day hate and fear that surrounded me like a cloud living in the American Southeast. I spent my days last fall carefully closeted, terrified I would lose the job that barely kept the wolves from the door. I spent the year before that fight a losing war to be physically safe in my own dorm room. I marvel living here, in the Bay, at even the scant signs of acceptance present. My heart leaps seeing a teenage girl holding hands with her girlfriend, stopping to talk about my apartment property with two elderly men with matching commitment bands. How sad a state of affairs America has become when nearly a year away has not yet knocked of the shell of fear.

 And so I feel particularly under attack that Prop 8 is on the ballot. Hate followed me home, and I'd really rather not keep it. The principle is, by voting yes on this proposition, you remove rights granted by CA judge for all people to marry whom they choose. Nothing else happens. Probably 90% of the population is not directly affected by this, but they think they are. It is beyond me why so many people are so filled with hate they they would attempt to remove basic legal rights from others. 

I have heard a number of arguments against this stance. One individual, whom I will not name, stated that his objection was 'ew.' I would like to point out that this person is one-half of an interracial marriage. Which was illegal until really very recently under the same grounds. I have heard that this limits freedom of religion. Now this one fascinates me. My wedding would affect your church in Kansas how, precisely? Your 'right' to hate monger and wound from the pulpit is, horrifically, more protected than my right to make the decisions any straight adult can make.

Fifty years ago, churches preached against integration. No one says anymore that the churches' rights are limited because racial categories have legal protections now. I feel, sometimes, that I am the only person who sees the similarities. Perhaps it is because the historical perspective of most Americans is limited to the last five years. My affluent, intelligent students could not tell me what the Cold War was and when it took place. So maybe people simply do not remember a time when brown skin legally got you turned away from your job, your church, your neighborhood gas station. But that in itself is shameful. And now, not so very long after, there is another group of people, trying to get by in their lives, trying to live without shame, as people should do in this country of supposed freedom, and poison pursues us. Where does it come from? In large part, the vaulted halls of a religion which purports to believe that god is love. Is anyone else confused?  

So, if you are in California, please think before you go to the polls. Do you want to vote to actively limit the rights of any class? Do you want to continue a strong tradition of segregation, suspect classes, and genetic discrimination? And don't, please don't, for a moment delude yourself that it is some anonymous immoral sex fiend you're voting against. It's me. I live my life among you. I have worked in your local yarn shop, taught your children. I don't spend my time clubbing and having unprotected cavalier sex with strangers. I spend it in my home with my partner, making homemade bread, knitting socks, and hoping that one day I won't have to be afraid that people will hate me so much that they would strike against me without ever seeing my face.  

A few notes: I've turned off comments on this post. If you have poison to preach, please do so elsewhere. You are in my online living room, and frankly, my life is not up for debate. Also, if you wish to rescind your readership due to the post, I will wave joyfully at your back.  

Disclaimer: I've been fighting a wicked cold for the past few days. I'm still too fuzzy to do anything productive, like grade essays, and too drained to actually move around. I took a nap to recover from showering. Can't quite follow my book, so I thought I'd blog. Hope it's decipherable.

A few people, I'm looking in your direction Cailey, read my blog because they actually wonder what I'm up to. I admit, I seldom post about that sort of thing. Truth be told, it's mostly because I'm boring. My chief pleasures tend to be quiet, like tea, yarn things of all sorts, books and movies. However, for those of you who might be interested, here goes. (and for the others, I'll post about some new design projects and wips sometime next week.)

Our baby, Pandora, is growing a the speed of light, at least. She's very curious and clever, which means she gets into everything. Sometimes I feel like I spend my whole day taking things away from her. She is particularly fond of pens and receipts. She's very affectionate and will sleep on one of us by preference. We got her a bed, but I've never seen her sleep in it. Rather, she chomps down on the rim with her teeth, and systematically kneads the center with her claws. It's quite an amusing ritual. She also like to hide in our recliner couch. Her newest trait is a passionate love for the faucet in the guest bathroom. She will howl like her heart is breaking to get you to turn it on. Then she will try to bat at the water, and be shocked when her paw is wet. After the water is of, she very carefully investigates the drain and faucet. I'm waiting for her to figure out how to turn it on herself.

Job-wise, I'm still teaching part-time, and planning to go back to school in the fall. A year later than I had hoped, but the delay was necessary to secure resident-tuition, which is infinitely lower. Job-hunting during an economic crisis has been a sobering experience. I'm very lucky to have the part-time gig I have, and to have a partner very skilled in an in-demand field. 

Speaking of, I have an anniversary this Saturday. Four years together, and two since he said yes. We even still like each other. As ironic as I find the fact that I married young and followed my partner across the states and back, I feel truly blessed to have found my partner and to have so much time ahead of us. 

Upcoming events, well, none particularly that I know of. We intend to visit Ohio around the holidays, as I haven't been back in a while. I must say, being the only member of I family living outside a 50 mile radius is challenging. Not one among them seems to recognize the expense of travel, particularly these days. It costs more than double my monthly pay to get out there for just a few days. You can imagine that is difficult to achieve at the best of times. And visiting my in-laws is high-priority too, owing to MIL's recent illness. So we'll see how well the gift stuff goes this year.  At the very least, I intend to get back to sending Yule/Solstice/Festivus cards. 

That's about it chez TimeWarp. Now I'm going to take vast quantities of cold medicine, brew some tea, and try that book again.  

A bit later than I thought, but I am blogging again. And presenting a finished object, no less. This is the second clapotis I've made. I'm not usually much for the same patterns that the whole knitting world rushes after, but I'll admit a deep admiration for anything Kate Gilbert. This pattern, for example, is so simple and adaptable but still fresh and interesting. In this case, I've used a larger needle size, a 6.5 mm (10.5 US) and done just two sets of increase rows. The finished dimensions are about seven feet by ten inches. I haven't worn it yet, but today was the first cloudy, cool day, and tomorrow, it's actually supposed to rain. Horrifying, I know. I'm concerned no one will remember how to drive. The scarf is lightweight and fluffy and warm, and I think it'll be a good one. Mostly, it's special for the process. Here it is in pictures.

This summer, we learned that my mother-in-law had cancer. She's high risk, and so they operated immediately. The shock and trauma, as you might imagine, were awful. It's particularly hard to be 3000 miles away while all this is happening. It's easy to sink into despair, and so my goal, my mission, was to do something to make her smile. I'm a knitter, i think you know what I turned to. I had made the titbit pattern before, as silly gifts for buddies, but this is the first time I've really put it to use. I brought the idea up, half-joking, to gauge her reaction. A laugh. Bingo, exactly what is required. So in two weeks, I whipped up a pair out of the softest cotton yarn ever made. I put an old eyebrow ring through one of the nipples, seemed appropriate. I packed them in a box with lots of chocolate, tea, and other goodies. I waited nervously, checking the UPS tracker. When she finally did get them, I was relieved. Not despair, but giggles. She showed her friends her pierced nipple. She showed the doctor. They reduced her pain medication dramatically, and soothed some other pain as well, I hope. I sent another set, with all manner of other goodies. And this past month, when hysterectomy followed fast on the heels of mastectomy, I figured another replacement was in order. See above. Knitty, you rock. More giggles. She sent cell phone photos to family, who pulled over because they couldn't see for laughing. I wanted to share this with you all, as an example of how important what we do can be. Rather than just worry, knitting gave me something I could do to try and help. And knitting made her laugh. And that is the best medicine I can think of. 

It was brought to my attention twice in two days that I have not blogged since June, when I cursed Hemingway and his anatomy. Lots has happened since then, but I think the big chronicle would be a bit dull. So I present you with images of consumerism. (click to embiggen) A bit of a yarn binge on my part, a pyramid of MegaBoots sock yarn, bought for no good reason other than an impulse to hoarde and weakening resolve. A pile of goodies from my sister, who got them during her summer in France. Very considerate of her, don't you think? She even sent yarn, lovely heathered fingering weight alpaca, aren't you jealous? There was tea as well, but it's gone now. New hand cards, shown with some of my first experiment. I'm enjoying these, but it makes me want a drum carder, I must say. Impatience is in my DNA. And lastly, Pandora, our kitten. The main reason for the lack of blogging. She is a fuzzy little timesuck. We've wanted a cat for ages, and we finally gave in. She cost a fortune (apt deposit) but she's totally worth it. She's cuddly and hilariously uncoordinated. I do wish she'd stop trying to steal everything from pens to magazines, but maybe she'll outgrow it. In the meantime, it is pretty funny to watch a 3 pound cat galloping across the room, dragging a shoe as big as she is. I'm going to post what I've been making rightnow, and then we'll see how long this spurt of blogging lasts.

I had originally planned a tirade railing against the unwillingness of society at large to accept any kind of non-traditional union, but in the end, it seemed unnecessary. Moreover, my irritation with the antiquated traditionalism of Americans was eclipsed by one far greater. Hemingway. I've not done battle with him since high school, but it was with dread I anticipated having to teach The Sun Also rises this summer. Reading the book has done nothing to assuage said dread, but has indeed intensified it. I've come to believe that I actually disagree with everything about the man. Morevoer, I find his work hyper-masculine, self-congratulatory and whiny. I am further resentful due to the fact that I have to teach to a room full of thirteen year olds a novel revolving around the sexual frustration of a man unable to penetrate the object of his lust. Can we take a moment to reflect on this. First of all, I just love the assumption that no relationship is complete without a penis. Indeed. Let us also take into account that it was Hemingway that was so adamant that one can only write that which one knows. It gives me joy to think that the figure of American virility found himself familiar enough with impotence to write an entire book on it. The phallocentrism grosses me out. My book schedule has been all man stories thus far, not what I would have chosen. In addition to the aforementioned problems, the work is very subtle and filled with french, spanish, and references to things my students can't possibly know. Argh.

Moving away from Hemingway and his penis, I have done some yarn work lately. First, and unfortunately without photos, I knit a rack. Quite a nice one, I think. Someone very close to me is undergoing a bilateral mastectomy tomorrow. The new boobies went off in a package with lots of other goodies before I got the chance to photograph them. Unfortunately, she has also learned that she will need a hysterectomy following her recovery. I feel a knitted womb coming on. Also, I finished a pair of plain jane, carry along socks, done a la Widdershins. It's shameful. I cast these on in December. The yarn is Trekking Pro Natura. I rarely work on them, clearly, but I try and keep a plain sock around for car rides and cinemas. I have been unable to knit on my three hour daily commute; I get motion sick to easily. And, honestly, much of the time I'm just too exhausted. I'll need to cast on another plain sock to take on the role of neglected carry-sock.

In the realm of new socks, there's this little dude. The yarn is Tofusties, in colors I associate with easter. I'm knitting it on 2mm (US zero) needles, 72 sts around. The pattern is a remix on a Fiber Trends one I used o make the socks I sent to Laura a few months back. (Btw, she is tying the knot in less than a week, click over and congratulate her)

Finally, my long-suffering but faithful wheel. I've finished the singles for the green yarn I've been working on. I would desperately love to ply this today, but between laundry and dishes and cooking and lesson planning, plus clearing out the guest/store room for my brother's impending visit, I just don't think I can spare the two hours. Sigh. Why can't people pay me oodles of money to make pretty things. Hope your week goes smoothly, where-ever you are.