Pattern: Flatiron Mitts and Ribbed Scarf

[update 14 Mar. 10]

I've been obsessed with knitting accessories lately. Socks, handwarmers, armwarmers, mittens, scarves and shawls. I feel a return to sweaters in my bones, but first I have this great holiday gift pattern to share with y'all.

I call these mittens "Flatiron Mitts," in honor of an amazing natural phenomenon that residents of Colorado would be familiar with--the Flatirons in the Rocky Mountains near Boulder. The Flatirons are a series of mountain faces that are eerily flat, named, so it goes, by pioneer women because they resembled clothing irons.

These mittens have the shape of an old flatiron, with the gradual curve of the top that ends in a point. The striped pattern is easily worked using two worsted weight yarns, and variegated yarns looks especially nice.

Dive into your stash about find about 35 grams of each color, for a super-frugal holiday gift.

Also included in the pattern is this variation, shown in Paton's Soy-Wool-Stripes: flatiron mitts plus a crocheted flower motif, and a matching scarf with a crocheted border.

So, the pattern includes:
1. Plain flatiron mitts
2. Striped flatiron mitts
3. Flatiron mitts with flower motif
4. Scarf with flower motif.

Not bad for $4.

Year of the Shawl

Inadvertently, this year has been the year I knit shawls. I knit them because I wear them like crazy.

Here's Desdemona, keeping me dry in London, for example.



This year, I have knit Desdemona; Clapotis in Malabrigo; Clapotis in Calico; Wisp; Lady Eleanor in Boku; Lady E in Niji; Pi is a WIP; plus one more WIP that is a new design, so must remain secret. That's 8 shawls in 9 months. Wowsers.

Substitution

My aunt told me, with great conviction, that if you are trying to have a baby, DO NOT get a dog.

Apparently, the dog will subconsciously be a baby-substitute. And if we do finally get pregnant, then we'll regret getting the dog.

Fine.

One question: Would a spinning wheel violate this no-substitutes stricture?

"Fertility"

[post by katie, by the way]

I'm having trouble getting pregnant--along with all of my best friends, it seems.

What a load of sh*t does American society hand to a woman who has trouble getting pregnant. It doesn't matter how many beautiful things I create with my hands or with my mind, if I can't create something with my uterus then I'm not "fertile," not "creative," and generally a failure as wife and a woman.

Awesome.

Since this tends to be a touchy subject, and since it is highly likely that you know a woman who is having trouble getting pregnant, I decided, as a public service, to create some guidelines for my dear readers.

Here is a list of things to keep in mind when you talk to a friend who is trying to get pregnant.

1. Never tell her she should "eat more," or "fatten up," or "relax," in order to get pregnant.

2. Never tell a woman what she should do in order to get pregnant, unless you are her fertility doctor, or unless she asks you.

3. Never ask a woman who is trying to get pregnant if she is pregnant yet *over email.* This topic merits a phone call, at the very least.

4. If you know a woman is trying to get pregnant, do not ask her if she's pregnant yet. This is a crappy question. Because if she isn't pregnant, she must admit failure in order to answer your question. And if she IS pregnant, she'll tell you if she wants to--you don't need to ask.

5. If you know a woman who is trying to get pregnant (esp. if you know she is having some trouble), rather than asking her if she is pregnant yet, tell her that you are willing to listen if she wants to talk to you about the process.

6. Be prepared for tears. Better yet, welcome them.

7. If you had trouble getting pregnant, and you feel confident enough, share your experiences with others. Dispel any myths that failing to get pregnant means you are "abnormal" or a failure as a person.

Anyone out there want to add to my list? Want to share a story of a stupid thing someone said to you or near you? Want to rant? Yay!

Knitting Travels: London Round-Up

I knit a lot in London, because I knit a lot on public transportation, and there's a lot of public transpo in London.

There are also a lot of parks. And like our friend E.Z., I like knitting in parks. This is the park at Leicester Square.


One thing I noticed, though, was that I saw no one else knitting. Anywhere. I thought this was strange, because (unlike, say, Japan) London seems similar in culture to home. And since people knit everywhere here, I figured they would knit everywhere there, too. But they don't.

I could only find one LYS in central London, and I was excited to check it out. It sits south of the Thames, basically in the shadow of Waterloo station. But when we got there on Saturday, they were closed.


Apparently, they were co-hosting an event with Stephanie Pearl-McPhee in some entirely other part of London. The husband offered to go there with me, but the timing was poor--by the time we hiked across town (and the river) to where the event was being held, we'd only have a few minutes there.

I was disappointed that the shop would be closed the only day I had to visit it.

Knitting in the Parthenon

Well, not really.

The recreated Parthenon in the British Museum (a.k.a. the Elgin Marbles) was my favorite part of the whole museum (and that's saying something).

I found a lone chair by the sculptures of Athena and Poseidon, and broke out the Pi Shawl. I'm on the last panel, the round of 576, and I'm working the whole thing in gull stitch, inspired by indigoblue's on Ravelry.

The gull stitch, FYI, is available in Knitter's Almanac, but is so simple and lovely that we should all know it by heart.

Here it is, written for working the round:
Round 1: K all sts.
Round 2: K1, k2tog, yo, k1, yo, ssk, k1.
Round 3: K all sts.
Round 4: k2tog, yo, k3, yo, ssk.

This is a 7-stitch repeat, and that doesn't work mathematically with the round of 576 on the Pi Shawl. You have to add a couple of sts near the end of the first round to get the math right.

But what's a few sts between friends?

this is so gross

so, you know how when you trim the ends off of a knitting project, you just throw them on the floor? well, my husband and i call these discarded ends "yarn gerbils," because they are small and fuzzy and vaguely rodentish from a distance.

well.

our cat* has turned to hunting in her middle years. she has a cat door in the window and free access to the house. sometimes, she brings in little, dead, furry/feathery things.

the other day, michael was vacuuming the yarn gerbils in the den and there was a loud *thooomp* in the vacuum.

yes, the yarn gerbils had camouflaged the actual small dead thing on the floor of our den that our cat had brought in the day before.

the problem with vacuuming small carcasses is, they don't just get neatly sucked into the vacuum. they explode into tiny, stinky, dead-furry-thing-bits that take hours and hours to remove from your life.

it totally and completely makes you want to throw up.

*[i swore i would never, ever blog on my knitting blog about my cat. it's such a g.d. cliche, the knitty girl and her freaking cat.

in my defense, i'm not overwhelming readers with cat-cuteness here.]