So I have these two skeins of yarn and more to come. It's pretty much what I hoped it would be like, but now the big question -- what to do with this llama/alpaca/merino/silk yarn? It's going to be an extremely warm wearing item, whatever I knit with it.
It is between a sport and a sock weight yarn.
I decided to make a pair of socks for my Dad. He lives in Bangor, Maine which is a fairly cold place in the winter. It's a damp cold.
Last Sunday I had to fly to Winnipeg for work, so decided that the airport waits/lineups and hotel evening time would help me make a dent in this project. In the line up for the re-scheduled departures, [because the morning flight out of Calgary was cancelled due to mechanical errors which threw the whole system out of whack,] I cast on 56 stitches for the socks. After 1 1/2 inches of 1x1 rib, I knew these were going to be too big. I was using 3mm needles, the same I reguarly use to make socks. . . . this yarn was a wee bit thicker than the sock yarn I regularly use, I never thought it would make that much of a difference. No matter. I had a two hour wait ahead of me, so I headed through security, grabbed a table and a coffee and proceeded with my project.
I did a few quick [back and forth] rows of stockinette stitch and measured it up. No wonder why 56 stitches were too huge. I ripped it all out, and according to my calculations, decided to cast on 48 stitches.
Start #2 - no matter and no problem - I had a two hour wait ahead of me, and not many distractions. I was in the Abbotsford Airport.
Knitting a sock or knitting a mitten is kind of like knitting a swatch, so I often don't stress about gauge and such. All I've "wasted" so far is about 20 minutes of knitting. That's nothing, and it helped to pass the time. In fact, while I was standing in line, a middle aged woman walked past me, stopped and asked, "what are you doing with those sticks?" "I am knitting." "Oh," she said, "Is that like crochet?" A moment flashed before me while I explained the similarities and differences between the two noble crafts [and she grew crazed with boredom and stabbed me]. Before I could come up with a reply she saved me by asking what I was making, "Socks, socks for my Dad." "Oh, I should try that," she said, and tottered off on her heels.
I carried off in the lineup and kept knitting. It wasn't until I was comfortably seated in the coffee area by Gate 3, that I had time and presence of mind to take an honest look at the piece I'd been making. Yep, it's true. This is way too big.
As mentioned earlier, I cast on 48 stitches - down a full 8 stitches from the first effort. This should make a difference. I knit 2 inches of 1x1 rib. Then started on plain, easy, mindless stockinette. I knit, and knit, and knit. I phoned home, I texted friends. I took photos of the sock with my phone so I could document the amazing progress of this pair of socks. One and half hours into this activity, a feeling came upon me. This sock is still too big. Not as obvious as the last one, but it's still too big.
Many of you knitters will know this feeling. I comes on you quietly.
This isn't right.
But another side of your brain says,
Yes it's just fine. You did a swatch. You measured it out.
This went back and forth, while I kept knitting.
This isn't right. It's still too big.
Don't worry, once it's washed up it'll shrink to size.
And this went on until we [finally] boarded the plane to Calgary.
Once aboard and settled in, I looked at the sock. I removed my boot and tried the sock on. Yep, it's way too big. What was I thinking, why was I kidding myself?
I measured it again, getting [to no one who knits surprised at this fact] a different gauge reading from knitting in the round than from my first flat measurement. Sometimes you want to get something done so badly, you forget what you already know. I can't believe I made this mistake. No time for personal admonishments. I had a two and half hour flight ahead of me -- knitting Nirvana. Starting again was not a problem.
I promptly ripped it all out. My seat mate looked over at me a full three times while I did this. I wondered if he had experience with knitters and was wondering why I was engaging in this activity in silence? -- no swearing or cursing out of me. I am the consumate traveller. Nearly invisible.
I didn't rewind the tangle of yarn that landed in my lap. It seemed like a waste of time. I cast on 42 stitches, 14 on each needle and started knitting. By time we landed, I had completely knit up the nest of yarn that was in my lap. I was at exactly the same place in my knitting, as I was when I boarded the plane.
More later, with photos [as soon as I learn how to transfer them from my phone to my blog.]
No comments:
Post a Comment