July 27, 2010

It's easy to be negative!

Wow,  I can't believe how long it's been since I've posted here. But there are a couple of good reasons.

• I don't choose to post unless I have something to say (something non-personal, something interesting and worth thinking about?)
• I've been very busy with personal stuff (yes, the babies!).
• Someone attained my password and planted a virus onto my site.

About that latter: it's been fixed now. But I do wonder why someone would spend energy and intelligence hacking onto the site of an old knitter? Does that make sense to anyone?!?!?

So I thought about the people who do these things--who spend their time on negative and destructive stuff--and it reminded me of a conversation I had a couple of years ago. I was talking to a writer about a very bleak book --a very good book but a very dark book--and he said "You know, it's easy to write a bleak book. It's a lot harder to write a book that's positive!"

And he's right! Try walking around the world being terminally optimistic! People think you're, at best, uninformed and, at worst,  stupid! We give a lot more credence to the intelligence of someone who is negative, judgemental, critical. Why is that?!?!

I think it's because language, logic, judgement, cynicism all reside in the left brain. We launch the offensive of an articulate army when we judge and criticize. The right brain--the positive, "Let's all get along together" side of the brain--doesn't have the same forces to marshall. It can't mount the same convincing offense, and so it loses most arguments against the nay-sayers.

But that's doesn't mean that people who are crtitical and mean and judgemental and destructive are smarter or righter! (Yes, I said "righter!") They could better spend their time on activities that put them into their more positive right brains--like knitting!

May 20, 2010

Clones, Gallup polls, and lessons

At the end of April, while teaching in Dayton OH, I lost my voice.. . . REALLY lost my voice. By the time I got home on Sunday night, I had nothing but a whisper--and my daughter told me to STOP whispering because even that could permanently damage my voice. Since I was to fly to Guthrie OK for a workshop the following weekend--for which I obviously needed my voice--I kept quiet. NOT A PEEP for three days.

Unfortunately, even my silence did not return my voice, and I found myself doing something I'd never had to do before--cancel a workshop. I gave the lovely Keely (of SEALED WITH A KISS) 2 days warning and an offer to do whatever it took to . . . well, what exactly, I didn't know . . . clone myself?

I do belive that Keely's first reaction was panic, but THEN she got to work. She found the marvellous Alissa Barton (from Dallas) who could replace one of my classes with her own and who would teach my other two. The next day I wrote and sent Alissa 35 pages of scripts and two dozen diagrams along with my powerpoint presentations.

By all accounts, everything went very well. And it all reminded me of a valuable life lesson, reinforced by a recent set of gallup polls.

The first Gallup poll isn't particularly related to this event, but it DOES make us think. The poll (of 600,000 Americans) asked "What does it take to make you happy?" The results were that those with an income under $60,000 were not happy. But the, perhaps surprising, result was that the level of happiness DID NOT CHANGE after $60,000. In fact, they'd never seen such a 'flat' result. No matter how much MORE we made, we were not any happier than at the base rate of $60,000. 

Then, just at the time when I was NOT in Oklahoma for the workshop, I heard a researcher talking about subsequent Gallup polls, taken AFTER the events of fall/2008. Here were the results:

• as the market crashed, so did people's level of happiness, in a direct relationship with the DOW;
• as the market recovered, so did people's level of happiness, but at a much HIGHER rate than the DOW;
• in fact, people's level of happiness rose to HIGHER than before the 'crash,' even though their level of income might be lower and their level of uncertainty was definitely higher!

The researches attributed this to the ADAPTATION PRINCIPLE--the principle which says that when we suffer we learn what to be grateful for, we learn our resources, and we learn that we WILL survive.

So, back to Guthrie. For Keely and for Alissa, it was a triumph over adversity. I would hope it was the same for the students. (Although I wouldn't quite call it this for me, I did learn that I am  NOT indispensible and that there is always a solution.)

The truth is that we are often 'happier' after such an event--in which we oversome adversity--than if life just goes along as planned. Congratulations to everyone involved!

May 10, 2010

Another adaptation

Since doing the work on MOTHER-DAUGHTER KNITS (the KNIT TO FLATTER AND FIT  chapter), teaching the KNIT TO FLATTER AND FIT class, and just paying more attention to what looks good on me, I've become a fan of garments with a little more shape--with a little 'nip' at the waist. And so here is a second adaptation to a pattern from THE PURL STITCH--to the CROSS-OVER TOP, one of my favourite pieces. (I already own 4 of them and am knitting a 5th.)

There are photos below that show both options. The reason you would choose one option over the other is a) the look you prefer, b) the amount of work you want to do, c) how many buttons you have available, and d) how much more yarn you have available.

 OPTION ONE

This one requires the most work, 6 more buttons, and more yarn. (Below is a photo of both the front and the back. This is the original garment from THE PURL STITCH.)

• Work the garment as written, but do not sew up the side seams. (If you are working with an existing garment, undo the side seams.)
• Pick up and knit along both FRONT sides (the edges that should have gone into the side seams) exactly as you did for the button band--picking up and knitting 3 stitches for every 4 rows--marking places for and making 3 button loops--as written in the button band directions.
• Try the garment on, and determine where you will put the 6 buttons (3 on each side). (I overlapped each side by about 3" at each hem and 1" at each underarm.)
• Sew down the edging.
• Sew the overlapped bottom bands together as needed.

OPTION  TWO

This one requires much less work, only two buttons, and very little extra yarn. (I only show a photo of the back. This version was recently knit from CASCADE 220, which got gauge beautifully.)

• Work the garment as written, including all finishing.
• Make a 'pleat' at each side of the back. (The fold lines of mine are about 3" from the side seams, and the overlap is about 2".)
• Along the fold lines, and extending from the bottom edge upwards, pick up and knit as for the button band--picking up and knitting 3 stitches for every 4 rows--for about 3", making one button loop right in the middle of this little piece of band--as written in the button band directions. (This is a little more difficult to understand, because it doesn't have an 'end point.' I think my little pleat edging had about 18 stitches. And for this edging you will pick up and knit through the stitch at the fold line. Perhaps the photo can help.)
• Sew down the edging.
• Sew on the button, and sew the overlapped bottom bands together.

Apr 14, 2010

Does anyone remember this game (or am I hallucinating)?

I've been gone for a while, on family business, much of it spent in Toronto. And while there--with spring coming on full-frontal--I remembered (or thought I did) something from my childhood--a schoolyard game played by girls, brought out every spring, in the West end of Toronto, between the years of 1955 and 1957. While this has nothing to do with knitting (although it has a slight fibre component), I am using this forum to ask: did anyone else ever do this? am I hallucinating? was it particular to Toronto? 

So, here's the game.

• Two girls would stand 6-10 feet apart. (Distances are difficult to estimate, because I was much smaller then.)
• They would each hold an end of a length of waistband elastic (which I remember having to take surrepticiously from my mother's sewing basket).
• They would start by holding the elastic at their ankles while other girls--one at a time--would jump over the elastic.
• The elastic was then moved to their knees, their thights, their waists, their underarms, their shoulders, the top of their heads, and then at arm's length above their heads, with each girl would jumping over the progressively higher settings in turn. (At higher settings, one was allowed to use the pinky finger to pull and hold down the elastic before jumping.)
• The girl able to jump the highest level of elastic won! (I was 6 yrs old at the time, so  incase this sounds deceptively simple, think how small the people were doing this!)
• We were all wearing skirts, so this was an elegant dance--to jump without immodesty.
• I seem to recall that the game was called YOGI, but I might have that and much else wrong.

Anyone else out there ever done this? heard of it? seen it? remembered it?

Mar 2, 2010

My Olympic project

Some years ago--well, four, to be precise--Stephanie Pearl-McPhee introduced the concept of knitting an Olympic project--something started and completed during the days of the Olympics. So here's mine. But first, its introduction.

In MOTHER-DAUGHTER KNITS, I have a coat called The Camelot Coat, so named because it reminded me of the iconic style of Jackie Kennedy. Every time I showed it--in classes or at book signings--I would hear "You should make one for Michelle Obama!" After a podcast, in which this story was repeated, I received a phone call from someone who agreed that this should be given to the First Lady. This phone call did not come from her office, but it did come from a knitter who was "connected" enough to assure me she could deliver the coat to Mrs O. 

So, I made it my Olympic project to knit this coat--knit in a spring green that we chose together, and made to be delivered in time for a Washington spring. Below is a photo of it--knit in the same yarn as the book's version (CASCADE Eco+) and with arm-warmers designed by my daughter (which will appear in our next book), knit in yarn from MOUNTAIN COLORS (that they made specially to go with the coat).

I did send a cover letter with the coat, and I have included a portion of it here.  (The rest of the letter speaks to the coat itself plus includes a few words from my daughter.) It would be our dream to see the First Lady wearing a hand-knit item . . . perhaps on a spring trip to Canada?!

Dear First Lady, Michelle Obama,

It is my honour to offer you this hand-knit coat on behalf of knitters everywere.

You may not be aware of the resurgence in knitting's popularity in the United States (and Canada), but it is no longer an activity of             predominantly older women. Young women join aging women—and yes, a number of very intelligent men—to discover the joys and         rewards of knitting.

• It puts us into our right brain—the place which accepts new ideas, sponsors creativity, supports healing, encourages optimism, and says "yes" to the universe.
• It offers a refreshing alternative to hours in front of a computer screen.
• It is the basis for countless social networks, connecting families, friends, cultures, and traditions.
• It is an antidote to boredom, providing hours of low-cost entertainment.
• It teaches us to set goals and work patiently towards their conclusion.
• It honours the "maker" in each of us, counteracting the acquisition of quick, cheap, overseas goods.

Knitting is introduced to every 6-year-old in Waldorf Schools because founding educator and leading philosopher Rudolf Steiner             thought it the perfect human activity. Millions around the world are discovering his wisdom.

I offer this package to you—representing all that knitting means to me and many, with optimism for you and your family, with respect for     all you do, and with the hope that I have expressed this adequately on behalf of knitters everywhere.

And here's a photo of the coat itself! I hope you approve!

Feb 23, 2010

Addiction rehab

So when we're addicted to something--healthy or not--it can hurt us. Oh yes, many of you know that knitting can hurt!

I've been hurt knitting, I've been hurt crocheting, I've been hurt opening a window--which made me unable to knit. (It's only when I cannot knit that I consider myself truly "hurt." When I had a broken leg--and every excuse in the world to just sit and knit--I wasn't hurtin' much.)

Here's what I have learned over a 50+ year of injuries.

• Avoid repetitive strain injuries by not doing a fine-motor activity for more than 20 minutes without a short break.
• During that break, move and stretch.
• If you do have a repetitve strain injury, get help as soon as possible.

The best help I've received is ART (active release techniques) therapy. I regret that I can't say how I originally heard about ART, but I can say that it has saved me and others. You can go online to read about it and find a provider. But here's what my experience has been.

My first experience with ART was when I earned tendonitis from playing the drums. This is normally a troublesome and chronic injury, but ART had me back on track within 10 days.

But a much better story is when I injured a rotator cuff opening a window.  I coudn't use my right arm to even turn on the radio in my car. My therapist said "You are left-handed for a week. If I have to put your right arm into a sling, I will." And then he worked on me: typically ART involves deep tissue massage while you twist your body through it. It's painful but wonderful when it stops!

I did what I was told and, sure enough, within a week I was perfectly recovered.

Many months later I was at a STITCHES event, at lunch with my friend Peggy, and I asked how she was doing. She told me she had been suffering with a rotator cuff injury. imagine my shock when she said "It was 6 weeks ago, and I've been lifting weights like my therpist says, but it's not working."

So I repeated my experience, and she said she would look up ART. And she did. Because a year later she told me that even though it was an hour-and-a-half drive, she was so grateful she had done so. It had cured her shoulder and helped her with other nagging injuries, and she couldn't recommend it more.

I told this story at a class in Michigan, and a woman--an athlete, in fact--said that ART had saved her from a chronic knee problem. She too was a fan.

So, for what it's worth, if you get into trouble, here's a place to go for help.

Feb 20, 2010

Addictions . . . 

What does it mean to be 'addicted?' I've looked it up in the dictionary, and it reads "the state of being addicted, especially to a habit-forming drug, to such an extent that cessation causes severe trauma." 

Notice that there is no qualifier that the habit-forming drug be 'illegal." (Certainly we can be addicted to "legal" drugs--a serious and growing problem in western culture.) But by this definition we can also be addicted to a "natural" drug: endorphins, seratonin, adrenalin, etc. Under this umbrella, we are all  addicts--addicted to the chemical secreted when we sleep, addicted to our own body's "good-time" drugs (endorphins), addicted to the natural high of an adrenalin rush.

Common knowledge also says that an activity can be considered addictive when it interferes with normal functioning.

Why does this subject come up today? Because here I sit surrounded by three addictions, all three of which may be drug-enducing and two of which are pretty-much interfering with the normal functioning of my  life.

--sleep (I'm loving my sleep lately, because I've been getting 8 hours straight pretty much regularly, which is very unusual and cause for much gratitude and a sense of well-being in a post-menopausal woman.)

--knitting + the Olympics (I am utterly addicted to each and, in fact, they seem to feed off or balance or complement each other. Maybe this is because i've got the endorphins goin' with the knitting and the adrenalin comin' from the Olympics.)

Whatever it is, I rarely leave my couch from 2pm - midnight each day. I have everything I need--food, phone,measuring tape--within reach. The remote's also within easy reach so I can see what the US coverage is saying. (It's really tough to watch 4 channels at once, but I'm doin' my darnedest.) If I have to be away from my TV during those hours, I get really anxious . . . until I make up some plausible excuse to head home. ("Gotta go: there's something in the crock pot.") 

The good side to this is that there's a natural end to it: 17 days from the beginning, and it's over. Yes, I will suffer withdrawal. But I'll survive. And in the meantime, here I sit, knittin' and watchin' and cheerin'. GO CANADA!

Feb 12, 2010

'Costing' our knits

So, this happens a lot . . . someone sees someone knitting and pays the 'ultimate compliment:' "You could SELL those!"

I've had this happen more times than I can mention. And what fun it is to NOT leave it at that, to find out what they're really saying / thinking / asking. . . .

With further conversation over the, let's say, socks, I'll ask "How nice! And what do you think I could sell them for?"

RARELY is the answer more than $10!!! So then I launch upon my public education campaign, in which I tell them a) the cost of the yarn (probably $20) and b) the hours a pair of socks takes (no fewer than 16). They  blanche . . . and of course wonder why ANYONE would knit socks when she could go to the store and BUY a pair!!!???

Once I was in an airport, knitting socks, and some men thought they were being cute--asking if the socks were for them, if they would fit them, if they could buy them, etc. I asked what they did for a living? They were lawyers. I asked what they got paid per hour. They answered. I responded "Wow, that's the same rate per hour I get!" So then I told them the above--cost of yarn, number of hours--and asked if they still wanted the socks!

On the photo shoot  for THE KNIT STITCH, the lovely young man wearing the EINSTEIN COAT asked if he could buy it. I liked him so said "Sure." When I told him it would be $290--which I thought an extraordinarily good price--he declined. (And I'm glad he did, because my son surprised me by asking for the coat for himself).

A woman in class told a story of knitting at the hairdresser's, and her stylist asked if she would knit a shrug for her grandaughter. The woman was complimented and said yes, but then asked "Why?" The stylist said "Because the ones in the stores are so expensive!" "How expensive?" "Why, they want $20!!!!"

I knew a wonderful knitter in the K-W GUILD who, when asked if she would knit a sweater for someone, always said "Sure. The price starts at $1000." Sounds good to me. It's time to start educating that public!

My favourite story is from my hero--Kathryn Alexander. Kathryn used to sell pairs of entrelac socks for $200. People would frame them. She then thought “If they’re going to frame them, I should charge more.” The price went up to $300. But then she thought “If they’re framing them, they don’t need TWO.” So she made only one, and charged $400!

I was warned by one of Canada's top economists--who has great fondness for the domestic arts--to never  sell yourself too cheaply. 
Sometimes we offer to do so because we feel honoured by the request. But I have learned that BEFORE we set that FIRST price, we should ask ourselves “How am I going to feel getting paid only this amount when I make the third, fourth, fifth one?” 

And he also said it would be better to give something away to a charity fundraiser than to sell it too cheaply.

My friend's standard, Kathryn's example, Larry's advice all make sense to me as a way to override the terrible assumptions out there--that knitting is cheaper than buying, that money is the only currency, that we should be honoured when someone offers to buy something at some ridiculous price, that if we're knitting we clearly have nothing 'worthy' to do with our time. . . . 

What other assumptions can we add to this list? And how can we finally eradicate this nonsense?

Feb 6, 2010

There is no such thing as a 'dumb question.'

A very famous American inventor, Paul McCready, once said "The only dumb question is the one you don't ask." I try to quote this every time someone in class says "This is a dumb question, but . . . ." Truly, there is no such thing as a dumb question.  And it was made clear to me, again and recently.

I was sitting with a group of knitters, One, a  new knitter, asked a question--prefaced by the above and couched in an apologetic tone. But it was a good question! She challenged an assumption (which cast-on method to use) for a very good reason.  At the same time, another  more-advanced knitter spoke of a problem in her knitting that she assumed was un-fixable. But once we explored the issue, we found a basic mistake that was easily rectified.  

Assumptions and reluctance to ask questions stand in the way of learning and progress. We need to take a lesson from the little ones around us who ask the inevitable "Why" about pretty much everything. Because another wonderful quote (which I know I have already inserted here somewhere 'cause it's one of my faves) is "The hardest practices to change are the ones we take for granted."

Jan 29, 2010

For no other reason than joy!

I am wanting to share a story and a photo--both unrelated, and both without purpose except that they give me joy.

I recently flew to California. For the trip, I wore a lot of knitting--my Camelot Coat, my Tabbed Cuffs, and a vest that will appear in the next book. And I was knitting--by the gate and on the flight. All of this garnered lots of comments: one woman, at the luggage carousel, said I looked "cozy;" two young women, walking by my seat, said they liked my cuffs and vest; the stewardess liked my coat; one woman, sitting two rows behind me, said she loved all my stuff and also knit. She and I had enough time for a bit of a conversation: I found out that she was from New Hampshire, and she found out that I taught knitting and wrote books. We never learned each other's names. (Sorry, friend from New Hampshire!)

At the end of the flight, while we were all standing, she asked for my card . . . which I gave her. And we continued to chat. The details are fiuzzy, but she did ask what I was working on. And then she told me that she was working on an EINSTEIN COAT!!!! I said "That's me!" (Rather an odd response, don't you think? I'm a COAT?!) Somehow, she understood what I was trying to say, that I was the designer of the coat she was knitting . . . and she declared that in her world I was a "rock star." We had an exciting moment--complete with photos and giggles--that no-one around us understood. But that was fine. We had a wonderful time. She said it was a thrill for her, but imagine what joy it gave me!!

And here is the photo that gives me joy. (This is Ada, my daughter's daughter, sitting and sweet.) I hope it makes you smile. It makes me gush.

Somethings are too joyful not to be shared. Here's me wishing your life a moment of joy!

Jan 25, 2010

Challenge a basic assumption!
(This includes substituting a solid with a variegated.)

Sometimes, I--like most everyone at some time or another--find myself thinking "That won't work." And as soon as I hear those words I know there's a potential lesson to be learned.

For example, I was once knitting with 3 variegated yarns (one row in each) and wanted to work short rows. But how do you work short rows when the yarn you need next is waiting at the other end of the row--not available in the middle of the row where the short row will turn? The answer was to work all yarns down to one end (on circulars) and to work 2 short rows in each. I was pretty sure that the messing-up-of-the-sequence wouldn't show much in the variegated yarns. And it didn't.

Well, thought I, that works find with variegated yarns. But messing-up-the-sequence isn't gonna look so good if my 3 yarns are solid? Again, here came the lesson. If my yarns are solid, all I need do is choose one of the colors as the only color to be used through my short-row sections. This, too, worked well and turned out to be a cute feature of the color-pattern / design that one of the colors is featured in repeated short-row shaping.

In both cases, the answer was to challenge the assumption that I must work each yarn in turn and for only one row. It speaks to the lesson taught by the inventor Paul McCready: challenge basic assumptions. It'll give you an solution to a problem every time!

I can't post photos of the garments mentioned here because a) they are patterns not published yet and b) one of them is a gift yet to be given. But the results can be seen in my STRIPES AND STRFIPES THAT AREN'T workshop in which we play with these concepts--with both solid and variegated yarns.

And speaking of variegated yarns (and the SECOND SWEATER SYNDROME I spoke of in Dec, below) . . .

. . . here are photos of garments (shown in Mother-Daughter Knits in solid yarns) re-knit in variegated: the Gray Cardigan and the Inside-Out Panel Skirt. (The former is shown here in Queensland Collection Rustic Tweed, color 909; the latter is shown here in Mountain colors Weavers Wool, color 'crazy woman,' with River Twist, color 'stillwater river' as the edging.)

It's another challenge to our basic assumption, isn't it? We see something knit in a solid yarn, and we assume it must be knit in a solid yarn! (Check out the Two-Tone Pullover, from The Purl Stitch, shown in my Nov 30 post in a slightly different shape and a variegated yarn.)

I see re-knitting in a variegated yarn as an essential part of my work . . . and not counting as an SSS affliction?





    

Jan 19, 2010

The best year of my life (and the best gifts ever)!

Do you, like me, do a year's review at the changeover? When I did so this year, I was astonished at my riches: 

• one new granddaughter in April,
• another new granddaughter in August,
• a new book (with my daughter, no less), launched in March,
• another new book (again, with my daughter), into the can in August,
• a new home that I love,
• a 60th birthday for which I was in the best shape of my life (after a lot of hard work),
• enough security that I can take care of those I love and donate to those in need. (I too, like the yarn harlot, choose MSF.)

And I suppose my year is not quite over? If one reads the Chinese calendar--which begins and ends in Feb--this was the year of the OX. I am an OX, so if one is a hard-working ox, one may receive untold riches in the year of same? (This, by the way, makes my new little ones 'oxen' also! I'll be looking for shared traits as they reveal themselves.)

The best gift of my life was a CD, made for my 60th and by my son, with him on piano and his baby 'singing.'

The best gift I saw given was also from my son. He went to a yarn shop, asked for everything he needed to make a Baby Albert, and then--in eleven days!!!!!--knit one for his sister's baby. (My son does NOT knit--and swears this is NOT his calling--so he did all this with THE KNIT STITCH on his lap: my gift is the video his girlfriend made of him doing this.) (He did this, by the way, because he felt guilty for holding onto the Bunting Bag mentioned in my blog post of June 9, 2009.)

The best gifts are NOT expensive: the best gifts are made by hand and from the heart: my best year has me swimming in gratitude.

Dec 18, 2009

Second Sock Syndrome . . . NOT ME!

Okay, so this really exists: there are folks out there who knit the first sock but never get around to finishing the second. They think this is a problem! I say . . .  What's the big deal!?!? Just wear un-matching socks! . . . You won't get tired of them? . . . And there are worse afflictions? Consider mine!

Here's it is, laid bare for the world to see.

As soon as I finish a sweater that I am happy with
I wear it constantly
AND 
pretty much immediately knit a second version in a different color . . . which I wear whenever I'm not wearing the first
UNTIL
I am soon so sick of the garment I never wear either again.

(I used to go on to knit a third version. But too often I found myself absolutely hating the piece, half way through this particularly mad choice, so I've stopped doing that.)

What's the problem, the SSS folk might ask? 

This feels wasteful, in the extreme--of yarn, time, and creative energy. I really, really, really should spend all of these resources on a new design . . . but instead, I'm off to the yarn shop--today, in fact, to buy browns + something else--to knit another version of the wonderful (Their being wonderful is, of course, the crux of the problem!) charcoal and red sweater I made last week to go with my new boots. 

(Yes, I knit a sweater to go with a pair of boots. Seems like the wrong way 'round? But you should see these boots: red plaid. I swear, you'd do the same. I've never worn the boots without people asking about them. And then I shamelessly--in lines in coffee shops, for heaven's sake!--open my coat to show "the sweater I made to go with the boots." Soon, after knitting the brown version, I'll have a second option. This feels so very very sad.)

So, is there anyone else out there who does this--immediately knits a second version? And what do we call this affliction? Second sweater surplus? (Probably best to find a different acronym?)

Dec 10, 2009

Learning from questions: back width and shoulders

As you can hear from the posts below, I'm still exploring and learning around the Knit to Flatter and Fit issues. And some of the lessons come from my class of the same title--often from observing students but sometimes from their questions.

One really good question was "Do you ever made the back of your sweaters smaller than the front?" My answer was "No." But then I thought about those who might need to do this, and I was able to tell her how  to do this. I've given the steps below.

1. Measure a garment you like, and see what the difference is between the front and back. Note I am assuming a set-in sleeve garment. If you work with another style, you can still use this information  . . . but it might even be easier!

2. Use the information from the garment you like to pick your size(s) from the schematics of the pattern: let's assume a 2X for the front and a 1X for the back.

3. Use the schematic to choose what size sleeve you want (again, by checking against your actual garment): be sure to consider both the depth of the armhole and the width of the upper sleeve. Let's go wild here and choose size L for the sleeves.

Note We are working with three different sizes!!!! Not to worry.

4. Make the front as written for 2X, but work it with the armhole depth of the sleeve you want--size L.

5. Make the back as written for 1X, but work it with the armhole depth of the sleeve you want--size L.

Note In all my most recent patterns, I have made all shoulder widths (and of course neck widths) the same for all sizes. This means no further adjustments for different sizes are needed as you work the shoulders and neck. This might not be true of someone else's patterns, so be prepared to choose a shoulder width and work all pieces to it.

6. Make the sleeves as written for size L.

Done! Sew it up, wear it, enjoy it!

Dec 8, 2009

Length lessons (again)

So, the original Crinkly Blouse Sweater from Mother-Daughter Knits stretched in width. And the yarn was discontinued. So I re-knit it in a DK alpaca/linen. (All of this is discussed on the BOOKS page.) And it was lovely: good width, good length, good color.

Except that it stretched out in length. It's been in my knitting closet, waiting to be shortened--which isn't as easy as it sounds. (The bottom 6" is a lace stitch pattern and is just fine: it's the length of the corrugated rib above the lace that needs shortening. That means ripping off the front band--yes, it's a cardigan!--cutting a line at where I want the rib to land, ripping out the 2" of rib, then grafting the lace back onto the rib. Oh yes, and then I have to redo the front band. You can probably imagine why this sat, waiting for me to get up the energy to approach.)

But then I bought my new red boots . . . and tried them on with everything red in my closet . . . and made a wonderful discovery.

What I want is a line at my 'ideal short sweater length'--which is about 2" shorter than where the rib vs lace line is. But if I a) put on a long scarf that lands at my 'ideal short sweater length' and b) roll up the cuffs of the sweater to this place also . . . Voila! The eye follows these 3 things--2 cuffs + 1 tie--to give me the division I need at this place on my body.

Yes, it means tying a scarf and folding my cuffs to exactly that place. Yes, that's a bit of a pain. But, yes, it's way easier than even thinking about shortening that sweater!

PS If none of this makes sense to you, the 'ideal short sweater length' is discussed at length in the Knit to Flatter and Fit chapter of Mother-Daughter Knits. Or you can check out a brief description of it on the BOOKS page. But what matters is that my 'ideal short sweater length' is a balance point on my body. If I don't have some sort of line there, I can look kinda dumpy . . . and short. It's important to learn all the ways I can to avoid this, and this post is my newest discovery!

Dec 1, 2009

The Importance of Length (and looking in a mirror)

When I teach my KNIT TO FLATTER AND FIT class--which is sooooo much fun!--it's wonderful to see people realize the importance of length: the right length for a sweater depends upon a) your body and b) what you are going to wear with it. I've taught the class for many months now . . . and so you would think I had the material permanently imbedded in my brain.

And I do! But that doesn't mean I can't make erroneous assumptions--like what shape my pants are that I want to wear with my new, shaped Two-Tone Pullover (see below). You see, I assumed my pants were straight, so I made the sweater to the length I would for straight pants. But then I tried it on! And the sweater was too short! Why? Because the pants are slim--actually going in at the hip rather than straight to the floor. I had to rip out the edging and work another 2" in length down from where the hem had been.

(The princlple here is the following: the slimmer the leg covering, the longer the top should be . . . unless you're Tina Turner.)

I've worn this sweater (with these pants) to class, stood on a chair, hiked the sweater up 2", and had everyone agree that the sweater was originally too short!  It's a great visual aide, and I'd love to say I did it on purpose! But, truly, I didn't . . . all of which reinforces, yet again, the importance of looking in a mirror!

Nov 30, 2009

Shaped Two-Tone Pullover

One of the reasons I haven't posted here is that I've been doing so much teaching. And my favourite class to teach is my new one, KNIT TO FLATTER AND FIT.  It's so much fun to see the bells go off as people see what they can wear . . . and what they can't . . . and why.

(Speaking of bells going off, I am going to write tomorrow about what happened to me when I knit the sweater. My goodness, that'll be DECEMBER!)

So one of the things we've been discovering is that everyone looks good with some degree of waist shaping on a sweater that lands on the hip. I decided I needed a very simple garment with this shape. (If what I am saying doesn't make much sense to you, check out my introduction to this material in the BOOKS page of this website, and then go to the Knit to Flatter and Fit chapter of MOTHER-DAUGHTER KNITS for a full discussion. And I will speak a little more about it in tomorrow's post.) 

I already had hand-dyed yarn on hand--two shades of Grandma's Blessing from Briar Rose Fibers (www.brierrosefibers.net). With it I had planned to simply knit the Two-Tone Pullover from THE PURL STITCH. (I did not care that this yarn was sport wt--6 stitches / inch--because I knew the sweater was simple enough to re-gauge: go to the COLOR book to see how to do this yourself. It's very easy!) But that original sweater wasn't shaped. How to translate this new information about shaping and length into an old pattern?

It was simpler than you'd think, and here's what you can do with that pattern from PURL.

1. Cast on the number of stitches demanded in the pattern + 10%.
2. Work the pattern as written to the distance between where you want the garment to fall on the hip and your waist (approx 5-6"?).
3. Change to 2 sizes smaller needles, and work 3" in 2x2 rib as follows (over a multiple of 4 + 2 stitches--so you might have to do a little increasing or decreasing across the first rib row): *k2, p2; repeat from * to last 2 stitches, k2.4. End after working a WS row.
4. Change back to larger needles, and work the first row as follows: *k9, k2tog, repeat from * to end.
You now have the right number of stitches for the pattern and can finish it exactly as written.

I know the rib at the waist is a little difficult to see, but please believe that it makes all  the difference in how the garment hangs. I get many compliments and requests for the pattern when I wear it!

Nov 2, 2009

Retreats

I know that knitting is costly. And I know that workshops require commitment--not just time but money you could be spending on yarn! So  in today's economy, I am thriled to see full enrollment and great enthusiasm at those events that require an even greater commitment: retreats . . . where all students are holed up the same digs, eat together, and play together.

This fall, I have done one in Traverse City MI (for LOST ART YARN SHOP), another in Point Reyes CA (for SKEIN LANE), then one in Jasper AB Canada (for RIVER CITY YARNS). While each was different, the consistent experience is an heavy dose of socializing and comraderie, a consistency of laughter and good times, and an intense experience of knitting. Remember summer camp? It's kinda like that.

If you have never indulged, please consider it! Perhaps I'll see you in Italy in March or in Norway / Scotland in August?

Sep 28, 2009

Being productive, cont'd

While there is nothing that should take priority over getting enough sleep, attention to another issue can help. (And I recently heard about research which said that screwing this stuff up can lead to weight gain in addition to all the other health issues they've known about for a while now.) 

It's all about Circadian Rhythms!!

So here's how Circadian Rhythms usually work.

• 7am - 8am = wakeup time
• 8am - noon = high time
• noon - 4pm = medium time
• 4pm - 6pm = low time
• 6pm - 10pm = medium time
• 10pm - 11pm = brain slowdown time

So, to be productive, *do your hardest work during high time, do your medium work during medium time, do your easy stuff during low time, then get enough sleep, and repeat from *.

Yes, we're not all the same and can certainly tweak this for individual variances (like going to bed at 10pm and getting up at 6am, which seems to lead to a  better night's sleep for us older folk). But understanding your body's rhythms and working with them can help you make better use of your time.

And here are some interesting additions to the above.

• While our planet turns on a 24hr clock, humans naturally work to a 25hr clock, so the hardest thing for us to do is to go to bed at night.
• Most of us experience a low around 3pm (hence the mid-day coffee break), but our true low is 4pm - 6pm: we're usually just too busy to notice. But this does explain why that part of the day is so stressful for many of us? 
• Exercising before 7pm stimulates sleep (and perhaps 4pm - 6pm would be a better choice than a mid-morning, high time workout?): exercising after 7pm inhibits sleep.
• Teenagers have circadian rhythms up to 2 hours later than this, which explains why having them go to school early in the morning is insane!!!!!!!!!

Let me just close by saying I'm not a fan of run faster, work harder. What these rhythms say is both "Here's when you might expect more of yourself" AND "Here's when you should NOT."

The ultimate productivity

And finally a photo . . . Caddy + Ada, as they spend their days . . .

Sep 24, 2009

Being productive

At the same time that I say there is no such thing as wasting time, I'm as dedicated to productivity as the next person. And what is the single thing we can do to be most productive--something that applies to everyone?

Get 8 hours sleep!!!!

We all know that if we are overtired we don't perform well. But I think many of us don't take this seriously. And we don't know how much sleep is enough. So then, when we get busy, we think we can shave sleep to no ill effect.

There is wonderful research that tells us a) why we need 8 hours, and c) what can happen if we don't get it. 

Okay, so they still don't know why we dream. But they do know the following: 

• if we don't dream, we go crazy and then die (so you do dream, even if you do not remember your dreams);
• 60% of our most important tasks (our brain work--learning, remembering, creative problem solving) happen iin our dreams;
• when we sleep, we start off with very little REM (dream) sleep, but the amount of REM sleep increases as sleep does--with by far the bulk our REM sleep happening between 6 and 8 hours of sleep. 

So if you are getting up before 8 hours of sleep, you aren't getting enough work done. That's the why of 8 hours.

The result of not getting 8 hours is apparent in a study of sleep deprivation:

• those with 0 hours of sleep (time in bed) / night made huge numbers of errors by day 2;
• by day 14, those with only 4 hours of sleep / night made the same number of errors as the totally sleep deprived;
• by day 14, those with only 6 hours of sleep / night  made 80% as many errors as the totally sleep deprived;
• those with 8 hours of sleep / night just don't make significant numbers of errors.

The message is that we all need enough REM sleep to be productive, and lack of REM sleep is accumulative. 

Sep 22, 2009

Wasting time

I wondered, in the last blog post, what judgments we have about how people spend their time.  And that leads me to wonder about the judgments we make about how we spend our own time.

A sense of time passing is a left brain function. And it is in the left brain that our critic, judge, skeptic resides. When we are in our right brain, we are unaware of the passage of time (like when we are knitting), and the right brain thinks everything we do is wonderful. (That's probably the main reason we love to knit and, truly, who wouldn't want to spend their lives in that place?) But we don't spend our lives in that place. Most of our lives, and our culture, is spend in the left brain. And the left brain gives us grief about 'wasting time.'

But is there such a thing as 'wasting time?' if you live long enough, you tend to see everything as contributing--even the bad stuff. I know  that being able to look back on difficult experiences and say "best thing that every happened to me" or, at the very least, "what a growth opportunity!" has led me to believe that everything that has happened to me was what needed to happen for me to get to where I am now.

So I'd have to conclude that whatever I am doing in any given moment is exactly what I am meant to be doing in that moment.

I am then led to believe that I'd have to say the same about others? And isn't life a whole lot easier to live without the burden of judgment?

Sep 1, 2009

Getting the respect we deserve

I asked a question in my last post: Why doesn't knitting get the respect it deserves?

Firstly, we might consider why it deserves respect? (We know the answer to that, but others don't so let's just do a tally here.)

• it clothes us
• it keeps us sane
• it supports economies (without the conspicuous and gratuitous consumption of disposable goods)
• it continues traditions
• it expresses culture (if culture is given Brian Eno's definition of the 'making of something we don't have to make')
• it feeds the innate human need to create

We could go on, and we could elaborate, but let us move on to the question of why folks who don't knit don't get this about knitting? Why are we relegated to a stereotype: the non-active, elderly, usually female, person-without-anything-better-to-do.

A woman in an interview recently asked me if I thought this was changing, and I responded 'Not quickly enough." She wondered what would make it change? When will knitting get the respect it deserves?

There are lots of answers to this--for one, I believe that when we return to a local, non-consuming society, knitting will become, again, an essential and respected activity--but my immediate answer was something else. "The men need to do it."

To my mind, when an activity is associated with only one sex, and isn't tagged to a huge amount of money, it doesn't get a lot of respect. And, yes, this most often happens when the activity is female. Nursing and child-care work readily come to mind. Never mind that they are essential human acitivities that add inestimable value to our world! That's the way this thing works.

 But it can work in reverse: I, for example, don't give stock car racing much respect.

We all make judgments about how people spend their time, don't we? What are yours?

Aug 29, 2009

Why are you . . . when you could . . . 

There is so much to say about this summer. But so very much of it is personal, and that's the reason I have not posted often: new babies and old family have consumed me. Plus my rest-and-rejuvenation trip led to a 1) resolution and 2) routine that have filled what remaining time I have.

But none  of the above is to say that I have stopped knitting! Getting the next book's projects out the door meant lots and lots of knitting. But now that that's done, i can knit whatever i want to!

WHAT A CONCEPT!

I know it might not sound like much, but knitting without a deadline, without having to write up a pattern, without any expectation that the world will see it is fabulous! I have always envied all of you, presuming you live in that territory. (And I know that many of you envy me, having to knit for a living. Yeah, it's just like the curly-haired girl wantiing straight hair, and vice verse, all over again.)

 But as I knit whatever I want, whenever I want, wherever I want, I am reminded of something that resonates through earlier blog posts--about knitting what we wear, about clothing that fits, about returning to an economy in which we make our own clothes. . . .

Not many generations ago--early in the previous century--if a woman bought something knit she would be asked "Why would you buy that when you could knit it?" But then in our time a woman knitting might be asked "Why would you spend time making that when you could buy it?"

We might ask ourselves why knitting doesn't get the respect it deserves?

And before we get too self-righteous, we might ask ourselves how judgmental we sometimes are around the concept of 'wasting time?'

I think I'll spend time answering those questions myself and soon. . . .

Aug 24, 2009

Life goes on. . . 

I am shocked how long it's been since I have written. But then again, not really. As soon as possible after my last post, I drove to Sault Ste Marie, ON, where I went to high school and where my brother, godmother, and mother still live(d). It was important to meet my sister there for July 24--my mother's 87th birthday.

So, I spent the next 3 weeks in the Soo--where email and updating a website is difficult--visiting my mother and teaching in Michigan. Before I left for Michigan, I really thought I was seeing my mother for the last time. After I returned from Michigan, and before returning to Ottawa, I knew I was seeing my mother for the last time.

But I had to get back to Ottawa for the middle of Aug. Caddy was due Aug 27 but convinced this baby would be early and that I should be here 2 weeks in advance. I returned to Ottawa through Toronto--stopping in for a short visit with Leila and her mom--and arrived in Ottawa on Aug 14. That day she and I did a dry run of her at-home birth routine.

The next day I did what I could to put our next book and remaining projects into their packaging--since everything was due in NYC on Monday, Aug 17. (We still had some schematics to arrive and some customs forms to fill out, but I thought I'd do all that on Sunday.)

On Sun Aug 16, at 8am, Caddy went into labour. I was there with supplies by 9am, and she delivered at home at 3pm--a beautiful girl, Ada Mae, 7lb, 5oz, and none of us remember her length. Mom and Dad are doing brilliantly, and a week later the dear little girl is already sleeping 5hrs straight at night. It was and is all very speechless-making!

On Mon Aug 17, my mother died. Since she was a wonderful pediatric nurse, I think she died so she could look after our girls. (And I know she wanted girls--to recitfy the Melville imbalance towards boys.) I didn't get a chance to tell her about Ada, but I know she knows.

So we are a busy little family . . . of girls and more girls.

PS My son told his brother-in-law "A boy can make a boy, but it takes a man to make a girl!"

Jul 18, 2009

Sorry i have not written for a while: I've been away on a much-needed (or so I tell myself) spa vacation. Ahhhhhhh . . . I return, rejuvenated, refreshed, relaxed, and, at the same time, motivated!

Photos of oneself . . . 

I spoke about the hair cut in my last post, and that reminds me of the whole topic of photographs. 

I am not  photogenic (although I'm ever the optimist and hoping the new haircut and spa makeup lesson will help), so I actually appreciate it when people say "You don't look anything like your photos!" (They apologize: I thank them. I don't think I look like my photos either.) Some folks are photogenic, others are just not. I know that it takes 20 good photos to come up with 1 good one, but I think my odds are a whole lot worse than that.

It's tough to be at a photo shoot when you don't like your photos. The stylist and photographer look at a monitor constantly. And they--who don't know me, at least not what I normally look like when not mangled by someone else's makeup and hair styling--say "Lovely photo!" And I come and look . . . and am horrified. Who are they looking at, and what are they seeing? Their 'lovely photo" comments, meant to encourage, actually send me back to the floor dispirited and discouraged and wanting to hide. If they think that's the best we can get, I'm left feeling self-consciously miserable.

When you are not photogenic, but you have photos of yourself published, you might hear the following (all of which I have heard).

"You're much prettier iin person!" (after every book)

"You look younger in person!" (after every book)

"What's with the air-brushing?" (after MOTHER / DAUGHTER KNITS)

"Who took those pictures? Don't they know you?" (after every book)

"Don't you have control over your photos?" (after every book)

. . . and my favourite . . . "So you didn't gain 50 pounds!" (after COLOR)

Recently I was at an event and had a woman approach me while talking on her cell phone. She told me, pointing to her phone, that she was calling her fellow knitter-friend to say "No, she's not gone matronly! She's standing right in front of me, and she looks great!"

Again, I don't mind when people say "You don't look like your photos." That pleases me a lot more than if someone were to say what she thought I wanted to hear: "Nice photos!" (which no-one has ever done). So be as truthful as you need to be. It's painful to be so not-photogenic, but my pain is lessened by your honesty.

Jul 7, 2009

Speaking of practical . . . the hair cut

I talked in an earlier post about the 'hair:' the need for a haircut that could survive the loss of luggage (with all the hair product and implements)? And, really, what is the criteria for a good haircut?

I had the worst haircut of my life a while back: I'm pretty good at managing hair, but nothing could be done with this! All through the tv appearances around the new book's launch, I struggled. I'd carry my roller dryer in my purse for a quick fix before cameras. If I went outside--into the slightest whiff of wind or breath of moisture--I'd have to run to a mirror for a quick fix. It was a dreadful cut, and I felt too vain for words.

So, in class recently, I asked "Does anyone have a good hairdresser? 'Cause I've just moved to Ottawa and need one." A woman offered a name right away. I went to see him--and other recommended stylists--for a consult. This man held up my hair and said "Who butchered you?!" He then apologized for saying this, but I was relieved! He then said "All you're going to get out of this is flat straw!"  He then explained WHY I had flat straw. This was the first hairdresser I had ever met who explained the shape of a haircut to me. 

Am I the only one of us who's wanted this information? Because doesn't it make sense for a knitter--a person dedicated to fibre and shape--to know the shape of something? Then we can figure out why it works and why it doesn't--not unlike what I am doing in the first chapter of my most recent book. Hair should not be a mystery any more than knitting! Knowledge is power!

The end of the story is that he told me to let it grow for a bit, and I did. Then when I sat in his chair for the actual cut, I said "Do whatever you want." He did. I have the best haircut of my life! It's easy, it's flattering, and it doesn't have me running to mirrors! I love this man!!!!

Jun 29, 2009

Practical cothing, cont'd

So, if we start making clothes to be worn, then we make the connectiion between our closets and our knitting.  Wouldn't that be a good thing for knitters?

'Cause these days there's that moment when we are KIP'ing (knitting in public) and someone says "You knit? Why aren't you wearing something you've knit." We might proudly show our socks. (Don't get me wrong: I love knitting socks. And I appreciate them as take-along knitting. But then we've just made the connection between our sock drawer and our knitting when there's a whole closet waiting!) And, well, as much as we all love our hand-knit socks, they don't have the same effect on strangers: they don't quite get their motors running, set them off looking for their long-neglected knitting needles to join in.

Wouldn't it be ever so much better if we were wearing a fabulous garment we had knit, and their comment was"You make it yourself?!?!? Do you think I could do that too?" Then we honour our craft and having them looking to join us.

But to make a fabulous sweater means making a connection between what we knit and what looks good on us--again, and with the risk of being repetitive, making the connection between our knitting and our closet. And that means examining what styles, what shapes, what colors, what patterns look good on us. And then we go find something to knit that expresses those choices.

And while we all know how important it is to choose the right size, here's the most important part of what I have to say: length matters as much as girth. While we know to knit a garment to the right size . . . how reasonable is it if we then just  follow the pattern for length . . . and end up with a garment that makes us look like Mrs Doubtfire!

Again, at the risk of being repetitive, length matters!!!!!

It's my mission to get that information out there. And to get that information out there would be to demand that every pattern piece has a line that reads SHORTEN OR LENGTHEN HERE. This says a) perhaps I should do something and b) this is where I do it.

And all of this would also mean that patterns reading "PIck up and knit 137 stitches along the front edge" are a) inappropriate, b) not helpful, and c) probably wrong. If you shortened, 137 stitches would give you (to quote Elizabeth Zimmerman) dread frontal droop (because you have too many stitches). If you lengthened, 137 stitches would give you an edging that flips out (because you don't have enough stitches).

Much better would be directions that say "Pick up and knit 3 stitches for every 4 rows." Then they'd give you the multiple with which you need to proceed. And then you'd have the right number of stitches for your edging!

If you need more information, I talk about the details of this in the first chapter of my most recent book: MOTHER / DAUGHTER KNITS. But if you look in your closet, you might be able to think this through for yourself?

Because if we make this connection, take ownership of our knitting, and honour our craft, then we'll all be ready for the new economy!

Jun 26, 2009

Practical clothing, cont'd

I am HOME!!!!!! YAY!!!!!!

So, about all those practical clothes . . . I spoke earlier (in the blog post, knitting through the recession) about how when I grew up we knit what we needed because it was cheaper than buying. Those times feel so long gone . . . as if from a previous century. Oh, yeah, right . . . it was a previous century.

What happened? In a word, globilization: clothing became cheap, yarn became expensive.

But I heard something the other day that made me think about a potential swing back to that time when we knit what we needed. And what I heard made sense: that globalization cannot continue, that it is based upon cheap offshore labour to produce the goods (And how long can that last? Won't the people making the goods eventually want the goods they are making?) and cheap oil to get the goods to us (And how long can that last? Apparently there is no shortage of oil: there is just a shortage of oil that we can afford. Even if the goods remain cheap, we won't be bringing them to us when oil reaches, oh, $7 per gallon.).

So, the day will come when cheap goods are no longer available to us. It feels to me that that's when everything comes home again: we produce goods locally, we grow food locally, we knit the sweaters we need.

I can't say if yarn will ever be cheap again, but if I were a gambler I'd say not. (Have we ever known things to go--and stay--down in price?) So we won't be producing lots and lots of sweaters, filing hours with knitting but not caring so much about the result. No, in the next economy those sweaters will need to be held to practical considerations, because they may be the only sweaters our family has to wear. I'm not saying they can't be wonderfully creative: but we would surely want them to fit and and flatter and be worn.

Jun 24, 2009

Practical clothing

I am finally going home today--after 3 weeks away (3 teaching venues and 3 baby visits). It's been wonderful, but I've always known that 3 weeks away is my limit. (Does everyone has such proscribed limits?) And not sleeping in my own bed has become tiring.

But it's not only my bed I long to return to--it's my closet! Living out of a suitcase really becomes tiresome after a while--especially when the suitcase gets lost (once) and delayed (once). (I am getting a much-needed haircut tomorrow, and I am hoping for something more wash-and-wear for when the curler/dryer doesn't come home with me.) And it seems that everything I took to wear on this trip (when not teaching) was black--not my best color even on a good hair day!

I am curious to get home and see what summer choices I have--that aren't black, that don't pack well, and that I've forgotten about. And then, once all this book deadline stuff is over, I think I'll make myself a summer sweater--cool, light, breezy, covers everything, can be worn with black but isn't. Very practical considerations!

WAIT A MINUTE!!! I've already made that sweater--and called it Sally's Favourite Summer Sweater!!! Clearly, I need to unpack the teaching version and actually wear it!

Sometimes, when we are promoting a new book we forget all the wonderful stuff in previous books--like the knit-round-scarfi that Eliana uses when nursing, the most practical piece of clothing she owns. (I did finish the turquoise version, she wears it every day, she thanks me for it every day, and she tells me to tell everyone to make one for every nursing mother! I'll probably make her a third--because the first was wool, this one was a very dressy ribbon, and she needs a utilitarian, throw-in-the-washer-and-dryer version.)

I guess I should go back to those books and see what else I am not wearing! And then instead of making another summer sweater, I'll need to be knitting knit-round-scarves for my pregnant daughter.

PS I do believe this 'practical clothing' thing will be a continuing thread, but I need to pack and get on the road.

Jun 17, 2009

Finding your geography

So, the lesson to the previous post (besides the 'wallowing' bit) would be to 

• choose direct flights, and
• never change airlines mid-flight. 

While it's easy enough to do the latter, the former is difficult if you live in a city--as I now do--without many direct flights. (Never mind that Ottawa is my nation's capital: it's a lovely but small airport that 'connects.')

I am often asked why I moved to Ottawa. After all, I had lived in Kitchener-Waterloo for 40 years. Even though my children had moved away, I still had my 'step' family there. I had friends, I had a monster knitting guild that I loved, I knew my way around, I had a wonderful home, etc, etc, etc. Why pick up and move 5 hours away to a city I did not know?

Reason number one

My daughter had moved to Ottawa 5 years earlier, and I was now writing books with my daughter. I found myself sleeping in her guest room one-week-per-month. And I would feel grief-stricken when I left. Apparently she did too, because once when I was leaving she said "You know this isn't working, Mom. You need to move to Ottawa." A subsequent conversation revealed how sad we both were when we parted.

Reason number two

Since they had grandchildren, I rarely saw my friends. This might not be entirely true, but it felt as if we weren't managing our annual ski trips, we weren't even managing to get together once-a-month. I was the one without grandchildren, so I was the flexible one (and jumped if they called), but it didn't seem to be happening often enough. (And, yes, my travelling was a hindrance. But you'd be surprised how often that was not the reason for our not getting togerher.)

At that time, I thought my daughter was my sure and certain hope for grandchildren, so why not move to her? (Unfortunately, and while I was following the moving truck to Ottawa, my daughter-in-law was showing my son a positive pregnancy test! Who knew this would happen?!?! But, in spirt of this, my son understood my move. I had been near him since they both left home, his baby's mother had her mother nearby, and Ottawa was a city I could afford more easily. Even so, when I make my regular trips back to Toronto to see this baby a part of me, of course, wishes I lived closer.)

Reason number three

A woman in my home guild, the night my move was announced, asked me "Why Ottawa?" Where had I grown up? At that moment, the light bulb went off!

• I was born in Toronto, a big city on the water.
• I went to high school in Sault Ste Marie (a city I still love and visit often), a small city on the water, huddled against the 'rocks' (the Canadian Shield).
• I went to the University of Waterloo, a small city in the middle of rolling farmland with no water or rocks in sight. (Be careful where you go to university: you might get stuck there!) It had never felt like home.
• Ottawa is a big city on the water, huddled against the rocks.

So my move was me finding my geography. I immediately felt the sense of home I had not felt in my 40 years in Waterloo. My condo is near the river, the river is full of rocks, and I go down there every day! It's gorgeous, and I give thanks constantly.

I invite you to visit me and my city--in my limited experience and humble opinion--one of the most beautiful capital cities in the world.
 

Jun 13, 2009

From losing luggage . . . to W. S. S.

So, now that a week has passed, I can talk about one of the worst days of my life. 

A week ago I missed a connection in Philadelphia (no big deal), was put onto 3 standby flights (no big deal), got onto the second standby flight (YAY!), arrived back in Toronto 5 hours later than expected (no big deal), but found that my luggage had not come with me (not a huge big deal, 'cause my original connection had me changing airlines, so the luggage-not-making-it thing was almost a given). 

BUT it was a little scarier than usual, because I was turning around in 3 days--to teach in Columbus. What if the luggage didn't arrive in time for the turnaround? Could it cross the border--and go back into the US to meet me in Columbus--without me? So I didn't sleep well that night. And THEN, when the luggage didn't make it within 24 hours and was declared officially lost . . . well, that was too scary for words. Everything was in those suitcases--all my sweaters and supplies that allow me to show my work and do what I do.  Some pieces were truly irreplacable. Professionally, this was one of the worst days of my life, and I really didn't sleep that night. 

The luggage did arrive the next day, I did sleep the following night, and all was again right with the world . . . until I got onto the flight for Columbus. Well, actually, things started out really well for the flight to Columbus: I was offered (and took) a $77 upgrade to first class (which saved me $40 on luggage, so why wouldn't I take this upgrade!). Feeling really smug, I boarded the plane . . . and realized quickly--along with everyone else--that something was wrong. We weren't moving. Well, yes, we were moving but we weren't flying. We were driving . . . a long way from the airport . . . and . . . a long way from even the runway. Apparently the weather was so bad in Chicago that we were going to sit on the tarmac for at least 2 1/2 hrs--with no gate to return to and no sense if any of us would get where we were going that evening. I had to be in class for 8am the next morning, so at best I'd get in late and not get my essential 8 hours.

I am usually a pretty calm traveller. And really, this was a weather delay! Who wants to fly in bad weather?!?! But I think the lack of sleep earlier in the week had made me rather 'vulnerable.' (That's a nice way of saying 'whiney.') So when, from the plane, I called my wonderful guy friend (who doesn't fly), I expected sympathy. Instead, I got the following.

"Sally, you know what you need to do? Something I do quite regularly."

"What's that?"

"Wallow in self-satisfactiion!"

(Wow!)

He went on to list the lovely things in my life--that i lead a creative lifestyle, that I love what I do, that I have two wonderful children, that I have one grandchid and another on the way, that I have (sigh) him in my life . . . .

And I hadn't even told him that through all this I was sitting in first class!

So, I laughed, I agreed, I thanked him, and i called the steward for a glass of red wine!

Jun 10, 2009

What is she wearing (and what do we call it)?

So, I have looked at, shown, and posted the photo of Eliana at the National Jazz Awards, all the time wondering "What is she wearing?" Someone asked me if it was knit, and I responded that I thought it was woven . . . all the time wondering "Why haven't I seen that on her before?!"

And then she picked me up at the airport after Squam, wearing it, and I realized I knit it!!!! It's a version of the Not-knit-round Scarf from The Purl Stitch—knit in a chenille wool + rayon, originally from Harrisville but now discontinued, shown in the book as a skirt. I never wore it myself, but I did knit it, and I did give it to her a couple of years ago. . . .

AND HOW DID I NOT REMEMBER THIS?!?!?!?

So, folks, has this ever happened to you? You've knit something, given it to someone, seen them wearing it some time later, thought "Ever cool," and then—in a total head-smack moment—realized that you'd knit it? PLEASE tell me I'm not the only one?

By the way, Eliana wants me to tell everyone that this piece—or the Knit-round Scarf­ from The Knit Stitch—is the perfect gift for a nursing mom. There's enough room at the hem for the baby, and there's enough room at the neck for mom to look at the baby. You should have seen the look on her face when I said "So I should knit you another one in cotton?" I have already been to the yarn shop to buy enough yarn in a fabulous turquoise ribbon.

And sometime soon I'll knit a couple for my pregnant daughter.

One last thing . . . What do we call this garment? In our newest book, my daughter calls it a Slouch. Is this okay, or is there something else out there that I should know about?

Jun 9, 2009

Pitchers and Savers (No, this is not about baseball.)

Some of us are savers, and some of us are pitchers. I am the latter, and so was my mother. So my urge to pitch things did not grow from living in a household in which things were saved.

Unlike the home in which I grew up, I think that a generational pendulum swing from saving to pitching is often the way this tendency works: if your parent saved, you pitch. If your parent pitched, you save. I pitched, my husband pitched, and both my children are savers.

As a child, my daughter was very neat and would regularly and completely clean her room—including taking out all furniture to be re-arranged. I was very much impressed by this . . . until I cleaned out the attic long after she had left home and found bags and bags and bags of stuff—broken tape cases, pens without lids, dolls with one leg, certificates from every organization she ever attended, unmatched socks, etc, etc, etc. Things that were valuable were organized in her room or—when outgrown—given to Good Will. But everything else was 'saved.'

My son is a different kind saver: I'd call him a true archivist. Because he was a traveler, he honed his personal possessions down to what would fit in a knapsack. But what he left behind was meticulously organized. He would call from, oh, Trinidad, and the conversation might go as follows: "Mom, go to the black binder on the left side of the second shelf of my cupboard in the library: the binder will be at the top of a stack of papers in manila folders: turn to 4 pages from the back of the binder: give me the phone number that appears 8^th from the top." (The page might be labeled Brown-eyed European Musicians I met in Australia. Well, not quite, but closer than you'd imagine.)

The mother of my son's new baby has a mother who lives nearby. I don't know if Eliana—the baby's mother—is a saver. But the grandmother could win an award! When baby Leila was born, this grandmother presented—as clean and neat as the day they were made—the garments that Eliana had worn as a newborn. I was in awe. But then I thought of all the places I had lived and what it would have meant to pack and store my babies' newborn garments . . . and I sank back into my own way of being.

(In case you are wondering, I did not throw out all the hand-knit garments I made for my children. I passed them along to my stepdaughter . . . who was not a saver. [My theory breaks down here, but oh well.] I know not what she did with them: pass them along, give them to Good Will, ruin them in the laundry? I don't know, but I understand how easy it is for them not to have survived. My children, however, are sad and don't quite understand how I could have been so careless.)

I did have baby garments to give Leila—things I had made for recent books. Below is a photo of her, wearing the original bunting bag of The Knit Stitch while Eliana is being named Jazz Artist of the Year at Canada's National Jazz Awards. (It's quite a photo: don't you love a baby who can work a crowd?!!!)

My son has since told me that they are not turning over this bunting bag—immortalized by this photo—to his sister and her new baby (due this August), despite the fact that his sister is a saver. He is archiving it himself—giving it to the award-winning saver, Eliana's mother, to hold for when Leila has a baby to wear it. So I am knitting another Baby Albert Bunting Bag for my daughter's child.

And fortunately, my daughter understands completely.

Jun 7 , 2009

Squam Art Workshops

I sit in the airport in Manchester, New Hampshire, feeling just a little nostalgic. Yes, I am delighted to be going home (although not yet to my own bed), to see the baby (who is now smiling), to be having a day off (despite it being a travel day). . . . But a part of me would love to stay--to live if truth be told--on Squam Lake, in New Hampshire.

I just taught for 3 days at the Squam Art Workshops at Deephaven-Rockywold resort. Heaven on earth, really. Deep woods, rustic cabins, clear waters, rocking chairs on porches, calling loons, clear nighttime views of the heavens, great meals, engaged students, companion teachers, totally wonderful organizers, etc, etc, etc. (If you want a taste of this, go to YOUTUBE or to the Squam Art Workshops website and watch the 5-minute video made by the marvellous videographer, Marlene.)

The Squam Art Workshops--as the name suggests--is not just a knitting retreat, and this was part of its attraction: there were painters, and photographers, and carvers, and felters, and recyclers, and, and, and. . . . If I were a student, I would be hard-pressed to choose a class. (Some year I fully intend to come back as only a student.)

Women of all ages (yes, mainly women, except that there was at least one young man . . . the lovely 10-month-old Elwood) attended this retreat. And since creativity happens at interface, the spectrum of artistic media and female demographics made this one of the most creative environments I've been in. Honestly, I was awed--certainly at the range of work at the Art Fair, definitely by the work-in-progress shown each evening, but sometimes just by the sense of style some of these creative women exhibited. (I also left with hair-envy, but that's just sad.)

My favourite things

• a glass of wine at the end of the day (thanks to Jane of Cambridge, Ontario, Jo of Ohio, and Yvonne who used to live in Richmond Hill, Ontario, but whose current city I forget);
• good strong early-morning coffee (by going through the back door of the dining hall an hour before official breakfast);
• ice cream at every meal (imagine!);
• the cutest cupcakes in the world (Okay, so far it's all about the food and drink. But wait, there's more!);
• the from-the-heart enthusiasm of everyone who spoke to me (There was a lotta love in this place, but I would have to single out Jen and Jonatha and Swirly and--of course--Elizabeth for the clear-eyed and lovely way they spoke. We should all be like these women--speaking generously and from the heart when something moves us.);
• pleasant days and cool nights;
• a 'camp' atmosphere (including a bonfire and a few moments inside a monster hoola hoop);
• bug spray (when needed).

If you have the wherewithall to go to this retreat (or something similar), you are lucky indeed.

April 22, 2009

I am completely distracted (and here is why)

Here she is, my granddaughter, Leila Isabel--5 days old and in her daddy's hands. If I am not working on a book, or teaching, or staring at her photo, I am trying to get to see her!  Those of you who have been there, done that, will understand why there won't be an entry here for a bit?

March 10, 2009

I am shocked that it's been so long since I've been here! Book deadlines will do that to you. Soon, and for the first time in 10 years, I will be without a book deadline! YAY!

And speaking of books, I am often asked questions about copyright: I know, the subject everyone loves to hate. But, even acknowledging that, I thought it might be helpful to cover what I think is important on that sorry, sorry subject.

Giving credit where credit is due

I liken knitting--teaching, writing, designing--to taking an English class in university. It just makes sense to me that the same rules apply. So here's the deal, as I see it.

Teaching

When we teach a knitting class, it's like giving a seminar on a novel: we don't need to cite our sources. (There is often not time, something might be said in response to a question so we're not prepated to cite, and--besides--when we teach it is assumed that we are offering a distillation of the best information out there. We are not assumed to be presenting original material.) 

Having said all that, if we teach a technique and we know its source as belonging to a particular person, then it is a professional kindness to give credit.

And having said all of that, we should never teach someone else's material if it's the entire body of the class, if it's their bread and butter, if they are known for having this material as the cornerstone of their own teaching. In this case, we have no business putting our voices to it . . . not without permission.

Designing

When we design a sweater, it's like writing a novel. Influences come in from everywhere and are never cited! I know I may differ from other teachers here, but I say "If you learned it in my class, use it in your work!" Good heavens! What ,otherwise, is the purpose of the class? And besides, there is no pattern written that is entirely original! We all use the knit stitch, the long-tail cast-on, the slip stitch, and who of us invented them?

Writing an article

This is more like writing a paper for a journal, and we'd better be prepared to cite our sources. When we put our name to an article, it is assumed to be original, and if it isn't then we need to give credit. Besides, part of the reason for writing an article is to explore a subject, and we want to help our readers towards further exploration.

Using other people's patterns

I get requests all the time to use one of my patterns, and it's tough when it's for charity. But whether for charity or to make a few bucks, the answer is the same. It's not legal. It is not legal to use someone else's work to earn money for yourself.

And even if for charity, permission to use my pattern for monetary gain is not mine to give. My patterns belong to my publisher. (I know, you'd think the author would own this original work, wouldn't you? But the publisher spent the big bucks for photography, editing, design, printing, and ownership is their reward!)

What I own is the rights to the design (which means that I could go overseas and produce millions of the piece for sale . . . which oddly enough doesn't sound like a whole lotta fun to me).

January 7, 2009

What prevents us from moving forward?

The New Year seems an appropriate time to answer this question and think about these issues.

On Ravelry, I was asked the following:

"I keep wanting to experience new things with my knitting. But then I go back to what I know how to do. I seem to be stuck somewhere within my comfort and can't seem to blast myself through that wall that's preventing me from moving forward."

There is so very much to be said on this subject that it's difficult to know where to begin. I have a virtual arsenal of quotes, stories, and opinions on the subject. And I'll begin that assault in a moment. But before I do, just let me say that while we can speak to this from our heads, we cannot think ourselves out of this place of safety. It is our feelings--usually fear--that need be conquered. So while you read what follows, listen to what resonates emotionally.  If you feel something, a button has been pushed . . . so that's where you need to go looking.

Okay. Let's start with a concept that I embrace.

There is no such thing as a mistake.

How in the world can I say that? Because you cannot be born knowing everything there is to know. (There are people who think they are, but we're grateful we're not married to them.) Your parents could not teach you everything you will need to know: your teachers could not teach you everything you will need to know: even your knitting instructors could not anticipate and therefore teach you everything you will need to know.

So . . . there are things you don't know and 'mistakes' you are capable of making. And you will make them . . . until they bite you . . . and you think "That isn't serving me very well." And so you do the work to learn what you need to learn to not make that 'mistake' again.  And what can we conclude from this?

If you are capable of making a mistake, then you needed to make that mistake in order to learn what you needed to learn to not make that mistake again.

And so there is no such thing as a mistake: it's just an experience you needed to have so you can learn and grow. It's what needed to happen so you could move forward.

Maya Angelou said it much better: You did the best you could until you knew better. And when you knew better you did better.

If all that seems too theoretical, let me give you a practical example, paraphrased from the book Art and Fear, by David Bayles and Ted Orland.

On the first day of class, the pottery teacher announced a new way the class would be graded. The half sitting to the right would be graded on quality (the usual way): one perfect pot would earn an A, etc. The half sitting to the left would be graded on quantity: 50 lbs of pots would earn an A, 40 lbs a B, etc.

When grading occured, a curious fact emerged: the pots of best quality came from the quantity side of the class. That side had turned out lots of pots, exploring ideas to produce some really good work. The quality side, on the other hand, had produced no wonderful pots: they had sat theorizing about the perfect pot rather than putting in the hours of trial and error to actually get there.

If you read my own personal story--in my first five blog entries, below--you will see these concepts illustrated. And you'll see why  I can look back on my life and quote Chekov: One would have to be God to look at both success and failure and know one from the other.

So what holds us back from moving beyond our comfort? Fear--of failure, of waste (time or money?), of humiliatiion.

How do we deal with our fears? By embracing the following truths.

• There is no such thing as failure. As Henry Ford said, Failure is the opportunity to begin again, more intelligently.
• There is no such thing as a waste of time: I truly believe that whatever you are doing in any given moment is exactly what you were meant to be doing in that moment.
• There is no waste of money--at least in knitting--because we can usually rip out our materials and re-use them. But even if we cannot recover the money we have spent, was not the lesson worth the expense?
• And finally, humiliation is something we do to ourselves. (No-one can do it to us unless we let them.) And why would we do this to ourselves? Because we listen to tapes in our heads that demand perfection: anything less than perfection feels humiliatiing. 

To speak to that last point, does a fear of anything less than perfection make any sense given all that has been said here? Doesn't the concept of perfectionism seem inherently paralyzing? The pottery teacher saw--as did I when I counselled students in study skills--that productivity grinds to a halt when we begin the process with the expectation of perfection. ( I saw procrastination that kept work from beginning and that brought work to a heel-grinding halt before completion.)

So, what to do when we find ourselves stuck in a comfortable place? *Try something new. Be prepared for frustration. Be prepared for 'mistakes.' Understand that these 'mistakes' are lessons this knitting needs you to learn before proceeding. So learn (or teach yourself) every fix-it technique available to knitters--to re-work these 'mistakes' until you achieve success. Repeat from *.

And, sadly I suppose, be prepared to produce an occasionally and truly ugly sweater. We could have a competition. But I promise you I'd win the ugly competition: I'd have to, if only because--over the years--I've produced a great volume.

November 28, 2008

My afterthoughts about the most bizarre day of my (knitting) life, 
OR 
Why I support our LOCAL YARN SHOPS (LYS)
(If you haven't read about the most bizarre day of my life, below, you should probably do so before you read this entry.)

After my bizarre encounter with the man who wanted to give me $50 million, I thought long and hard about my objections to a 'chain' of yarn shops.

What is the downside to chains? (All of what follows is supported by either personal experience or research.)

• They aren't sensitive to their demographic.
• They aren't sensitive to their geography.
• They don't pay their staff as well.
• They hire fewer staff per square foot than small retailers.
• They don't put as much money into the local economy.
• They don't give as much money to local charities.
• They don't have the unique character a local shop does.
• They are usually in outlying areas, which requires that I drive some distance from where I live.
• They specialize in lower end goods.
• They usually have a much more limited range of inventory.
• They're often so big that I have to wander through lots of stuff I don't want to find the thing I do want.

 What is the single advantage to a chain?

• Lower prices.

Period. I can spend money on gas to drive to outlying areas to wander around—looking for service—through an inventory with fewer choices and yarns of lower quality than I might find at my LYS. Wow.

I understand needing to save money in tough times. But what price have we paid for saving these few dollars? I'm not an expert on global economies, but it seems to me that by giving our business to the large chains, we have squeezed out our little downtowns and their locally-owned shops, and how well has that served our towns, cities, local economies, and society in general?

While I don't know much about all this stuff, there are people who do. One of them is Jane Jacobs—a brilliant thinker who wrote some very important books. Perhaps her most well-known was The Death and Life of Great American Cities. The one I have read was Dark Age Ahead.

In this latter book—which I have lent out and so cannot quote—I remember reading that successful societies (ones that have survived longer than ours) are expensive. They support their artists, their teachers, their child-care providers, their disabled, their aged, their workers, their suppliers of goods. They don't outsource for cheaper goods: they pay what they must to support the care and welfare of their community's citizens.

Since we might all have fewer disposable dollars in the times ahead, we may now be looking at what she called an expensive society. So how do we make the best use of our spending dollars? Look for cheaper goods? There are people who will tell you that the solution is to shop at WALMART. But I could not disagree more.  I believe that what we need to do is behave as if we are part of expensive but successful society. This means that we look very carefully at where and how we spend our money. And it seems to me that supporting our communities--by buying goods and services from our small, local, independent businesses--is a first step in the road to recovery.

 I know we can't all do this; nor can we do it for all goods. But we can do what we can do. And if you are interested in these concepts . . . or curious to find the research that supports the points made earlier . . . or looking for books to read on the subject . . . check out livingeconomies.org and newrules.org/retail.

 In the meantime, see you at our LYS!

November 25, 2008
The most bizarre day of my (knitting) life

I am introducing this story by calling it the most bizarre day of my knitting life. But it may, in fact, have been the most bizarre occasion of my life: it would be a stretch to recall a stranger event.

Okay, so here's the story.

In early 2003 I was sitting in a very busy yarn shop, knitting a piece for my COLOR book, after teaching for the day and now waiting for my end-of-the-day drive home. I noticed, absently, a tall couple entering the store. The woman seemed to require 3 or 4 staff people to wait on her: the man asked questions that caused impatience. He was, eventually, directed to me.

This man wanted to know what all the excitement of a regular day in a yarn shop was all about. This was in our heyday and in a very large shop with many customers and staff. There was clearly a lot going on (and a lot of money being made), and he wanted to understand it. The following conversation ensued.

Him Who are all these people?
Me Customers and staff.

Him How many customers do they have in a day?
Me I've been told that it's between 100 and 120.
Him And what do they want?
Me Yarn. 

(Duh. Actually i tried to talk about the current knitting demograhic, but he interrupted me. I need to make it clear that he never seemed particularly interested in my answers—especially when I did not appear to be saying what he wanted to hear. And what won't translate through my writing is that it was rare that I was permitted to complete a sentence. I eventually learned to give only short answers—which is what I offer through my re-telling.)

Him How many yarn shops in the US? Hundreds?
Me No, I answered, perhaps a couple of thousand. I can tell you where to find out.

(I would have sent him to XRX's directory, but he was not interested.)

Him So what makes a good yarn shop?
Me Service and inventory.
Him (sniffing) Well, that's no different from any other retail operation.
Me (thinking but not saying) And why would you expect anything different?
Him What do you think of the idea of a chain of yarn shops?
Me Bad idea.
Him (apparently insulted) Why?
Me Well, chains tend to me low end . . .
Him (defensively) Not necessarily! I started X and X, USA, and used to own half the XXX's on the West Coast.

(There is nothing high end about either of the chains he mentioned.)

Me (continuing my sentence) . . . and local yarn shops can do things chains can't.
Him Like what?
Me Be sensitive to their geography and demographic.

(At this point I attempted to talk about the demographics of knitters—something I had tried earlier—but he had his own agenda.)

Him I want to talk to you about a chain of yarn shops.
Me I am not interested.
Him Of course you are! When are you back in the US?
Me March. But no, I'm not interested.

Him (writing 16 phone numbers onto a card and ignoring anything I said) I want you to come and see me to talk about this.
Me I'm not interested! I'm Canadian! First borns don't do retail!

(I was digging deep into my arsenal of reasons to refuse!)

Him I want to start a chain of yarn shops, and you're going to help me.
Me But why?
Him Because I am spending X $'s (an OBSCENE amount of money) to open a chain of XXX houses on the East Coast and I need a "soft market" alternative.
Me (thinking but not saying) Yarn is soft? Or are we talking money-laundering here?

(To my bewilderment, he continued.)

Him You are going to come and talk to me about a chain of yarn shops.
Me No, you don't understand . . . .

(I am fumbling and near-speechless. I don't know how to continue. I COULD have said "We can't do this! It'll ruin the industry! It'll put the independents out of business! There already isn't enough yarn in the world." And at the same time I'm thinking "Better not say these things. He'd see all that as an opportunity." I sit paralyzed.)

Me Please . . . not a good idea . . . you don't understand . . . .

Him No, YOU don't understand. (He leaned towards me.) I have $50 million to give you.

Later that day I found myself driving a very large and lovely Mercedes up the coast of California . . . having just turned down $50 million . . . and I'm thinkin' "THIS is a day that doesn't come often."

It doesn't take a genius to imagine what kind of mess would have happened had I said yes?

In my next entry, I'll reflect upon the idea of shopping at chains.

October 3, 2008

My response to our most recent economic crisis.

A few years ago there was an article in Publisher's Weekly, how the 'crafts' were recession-proof. I used it while making my pitch to a publisher for The Knitting Experience series. (The pitch did not work at that time and place, but that's another story.) But now, given the events of the past week and as we approach what might be a recession, my thoughts turn there.

Are the 'crafts' recession-proof? When facing a choice between a mortgage payment, or a tax installment, or contributions to a retirement fund, or a new pair of winter boots, or--God forbid--food on the table, do we keep knitting? Yes . . . but not as we have.

Those folks who said that the crafts would always survive were right: they will. We will always knit--for comfort, for gifts, for the place of peace to which it takes us. But knitting can be expensive! Did the people who wrote that article know that, or did they think we still lived in a world where it is cheaper to knit a sweater than to buy one?

I grew up in that world: if I wanted a gray cardigan, I walked (didn't use gas) to the local yarn shop (in the neighbourhood strip mall) and bought the yarn (the best I could afford). That's how I got the sweater I wanted.

But then came globalization. Garments made overseas were cheaper than we could knit. And somehow, at the same time, the price of yarn rose. Knitting became an expensive pastime: we knit for all the wonderful reasons I mentioned above but no longer because it was the only way we could afford the sweater we wanted to wear.

So now, instead of seeing a pattern and saying "I want to wear that" we might say "I want to knit that." It's an important distinction: it speaks to process rather than product.

Make no mistake, I am totally on the side of process. It's the journey not the destination is a basic truth by which I choose to live. (And even science acknowledges this: “The universe is made up of processes, not things” was said by Lee Smolin, one of the leading quantum physicists of our day.)

But now we might face hard choices. If we see knitting as only process, how do we justify money spent on yarn in hard times? I think we still can, because no price can be put onto the hours of peace and joy it gives. But let's put that aside for now and be yet more practical.

How can we truly justify knitting's expense when we weigh dollars for knitting against dollars for 'essentials?' I think we look for a marriage of process and product--harkening back to the days when we knit a sweater because we needed to wear it. And long before the economic realities of the recent days, this had become a mantra (well, a rant) of mine: knit what you wear, wear what you knit.

How to do this? Go to your closet and find the garment you wear most, the one that you hope survives forever, the good old friend you turn to when you don't want to think about what to wear. Now go find a pattern that replicates it. And the same principle can apply when you want to surprise a loved with a precious piece from your hands: watch what they wear, and get as close as you can to duplicating it.

If we all knit what we wear and wear what we knit, much good will come: we will do honour to our craft, and we will help it to not only survive but to flourish through whatever hard times we face.

September 3, 2008

And here is a further continuation to the story of how I came to live the life I live

Part four

10. (cont'd)  I knit and knit and knit the garments for this book on using up leftovers—working fewer and fewer hours per week at the university. (In my final year, I worked one half-day a week. But my replacement—a competent young man whose life this really was—was in place.) At the same time, my children were heading off to university, so I resumed travelling and teaching. (One of my oft-taught classes was developed from the principles I was using to write this book: how to make beautiful fabrics out of leftovers.) I didnÍt have a publisher yet (I'd been rejected by two major publishers who shall remain nameless), but I did have a busy life. (So busy that my son, safe and secure in a university residence, left me the following voice mail message; "You are never home??? Do you know that if we still lived with you, they'd call the Children's Aid!") In my busy life, I encountered other knitters—Lily Chin and, again, Nancy Thomas—who suggested I take my book idea (with its pile of already-knit sweaters) to XRX.

10. (cont'd) XRX had only done magazines, but they were interested in entering the book world. When they said yes to my proposal, I knit faster and harder. Never mind that we had no contract, no photo shoot, no book plan, no time line. I was happy enough knitting and teaching. But it was my students—asking "When's this book coming out?"—who forced me to move from push to shove. I asked for advice, and Nancy Thomas suggested that I "Send them the sweaters." So, with much difficulty, I sent the sweaters to Sioux Falls. (You may not know this, but it is no fun getting textiles into the US. What fibre content? What gauge? At any point of its manufacture did any of these materials pass through any of the following 30 countries? Oh dear customs officer, do you understand that these are garments made out of leftovers???) But the box arrived safely at XRX, and I am told that the following conversation ensued.
David Xenakis: What's this?
Person unknown: A box of sweaters by a woman who wants to do a book on using up leftovers.
David: Oh God, odd-ball knitting.
But then the first sweater . . . Topher's Pullover (borrowed back from the boyfriend who had, in fact, departed within three weeks) was lifted from the box . . . and David reacted.
David: OmiGod, what beautiful fabrics! We must publish this woman's book!
The result was Sally Melville STYLES: a unique and elegant approach to your yarn collection.

10. (cont'd) Although this section has passed reasonable boundaries, I must say something about that title. . . . I didn't want my name in the title. But Ann Regis had said "Get over it. Your name's going to be on the front of the book anyway." Even so, I thought I'd already given the book a perfectly good title: STYLES FOR STASH: knitting techniques and garment patterns for using up leftovers. (I admit I am pretty long-winded in the subtitle department.) But Ann didn't like it. She said "Some knitters donÍt have a stash." "But . . . but . . . yes, but . . . Who are those people? And why would they buy my book?" Somehow, Ann convinced me that these techniques could be a creative introduction to knitting—Knitters could walk into a yarn shop and buy one ball of anything that called.—and so I let it go. And we had a new title. No matter that the word "knitting" didn't appear in it!

11. STYLES was published in 1998. I will never forget the night of its debut. I sat at the author table at STITCHES, and the line stretched as far as I could see. Every knitter I'd ever taught seemed to stand there, book(s) in hand. Its reception was wonderful, and so were its reviews. I was thrilled. But then came the inevitable question . . .  "What next?" Was I a one-book wonder?

To be continued . . . .

September 4, 2008

As you read these pieces, you might wonder about their numbering? Why number them at all? The answer is that there really were twelve significant steps in my life (but any similarity to any other 12-step-programme is entirely accidental). Some steps were shorter, some were longer, some were deliberate, and some occurred in an unconscious instant. But twelve it is and shall remain as the story continues . . . .

And here are the final pieces to the story of how I came to live the life I live.

Part five

12. In 1997 and on the way to the photo shoot for STYLES, the following conversation had occurred.
Elaine Rowley (editor at XRX): So Sally, how many books do you have in you?
Me: I think seven.
(I have no idea where that number came from!)
Elaine: And what would you like to do next?
Me: A learn-to-knit book.
At this point—and I don't remember the exact words—Elaine expressed surprise. Yarn shops were closing, no-one was learning to knit, there were plenty of learn-to-knit manuals already serving a market that didn't exist. Why would I want this? Well . . .  I was sincerely worried that our skills would die out with me and my generation, so at the very least I thought we ought to leave a good record of these skills. And what constituted a good record? A book (actually a series—THE KNITTING EXPERIENCE—because it could not be done in one book) that did the following:

• taught the skills that needed to be learned,
• as they needed to be learned,                                          
• through projects that were truly easy,
•  and that knitters would be proud to wear.

In other words, I thought most learn-to-knit manuals went too-far, too-fast, and I knew from my work at the university that this is not how we learn. We learn a skill when we are ready for it and by solving problems that utilize these skills. (This was no novel idea—after all, this is how we all go through school: I had just never seen it applied to knitting.) And speaking of the university, I also knew that I would take what I had learned there and bring it to this book. I'd write meditations (probably my favourite pieces to this puzzle): these would be pieces that would speak to what knitting means to me, what it means to our culture, what it does

The lesson here is the following: Whatever experience you are having is the experience you are meant to be having. (Translated, this could mean that there is no such thing as time wasted.) My time as study skills advisor had not been wasted: I needed all that good stuff on brain function to add a very special dimension to my books on knitting.)for our hands, our hearts, our heads.

12. (cont'd) For the four years following STYLES, when asked "What next?" I'd answer "A learn-to-knit book." I                     encountered the usual surprise. Why bother? And I would explain how mine would be different . . . to a skeptical reaction. There was not a lot of support for this project, although my students would sometimes say "I'll buy that for my daughter-in-law, my granddaughter, my niece." So in 2002, when THE KNIT STITCH appeared, the mothers and grandmothers and aunts bought the book . . . and returned home . . . and read the book . . . and went back the next day to buy every copy. They'd discovered (as I had when writing the book) that we all have holes in our experience, so they needed the book for themselves. They also discovered that they liked reading it—that the book's meditations touched a chord and honoured all that they cherished in their knitting. And they loved the patterns! Who knew?!

12. (cont'd) If I am honest, I will say that I knew. I knew it was a good book. I knew the patterns were wonderful. I knew the skills were well-presented. I knew I had done the best I could to set the right tone and pace. I knew that XRX and I, as a team, had made an important contribution to our world. If discovered, I knew it would be well-received. What I didn't know was that this book was to ride the crest of a wave we hadn't seen coming. Who knew that, in the fall of 2002, knitting would be "the new yoga, the new black, the new lipgloss, the new pantyhose?" I surely did not. But I will be everlastingly grateful that this was so.

So, that's the end of my story. From here on in, entries will appear at the top of the page (and will be much shorter). And if you'd like to ask questions or make suggestions, please email me! I, truly, look forward to hearing from you.