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We are in the penultimate throes of tax hell at the moment, so blogging may be ever so slightly eccentric and obscure.
Like... totally jumping on board the Hipstamatic trend:
The girl was home sick today, much to Eowyn's delight:
The girl is getting to be a pretty good little stash-buster in her own right. (That's a dog blanket she's crocheting, by the way.)
Long overdue, but it just hasn't been outdoor FO weather for so long, at least not on a good hair day when hubby was around to wield the camera.
I got the modelled shots done a week ago, and by the time I realized I'd forgotten to photograph it flat, it was raining again.
The pattern was designed as a freebie for purchasers of my fingering weight sampler pack, but would work equally well for a single skein of sock or other fingering weight yarn, and the pattern can be continued as long as desired to create a larger version. Taxes permitting, I'll finally get it written up for testers this week and then sent off to the intrepid knitters who volunteered to knit it sight unseen. And after that, the PDF goes out to everyone who bought fingering samplers, and probably up for sale on Rav for more general use.
About the buzzing (no, I'm not hearing voices. Although I do talk to myself.) Judy G sent me a link to a blog post and poem that kick-started a new and illuminating way of looking at the problem.
Here's the thing: I actually have a pretty good organizational system, based on the GTD book. I have a master list of tasks and projects and ideas (neatly organized in Life Balance), with the projects subdivided into sequential tasks so that I always know what needs to be done next. I have a simple but efficient collecting system for new ideas and projects, and every Sunday I update the master list, review my priorities and set up a task list for the coming week, incorporating a careful balance of business/housework/family/personal well-being, etc. I have parallel checklist streams for daily routines and specific projects, duplicate reminder systems for important deadlines, and I regularly review and troubleshoot inefficiencies and things that aren't working. And stuff does steadily get done... so why don't I feel relaxed and in control?
In theory, writing everything down and regularly reviewing it is supposed to off-load it from my brain so that I can let go and focus on the present task, secure in the knowledge that nothing is forgotten. Except... I don't let go. There are around 1000 things on the master list at any given time, and I can get through 20 or 30 in a week (depending what they are), but I still carry the other 980 around with me as a black buzzing cloud of Not Done, humming nastily with undertones of shame and intermittent jolts of panic.
I suspect that might be the problem. (Not to mention the fact that chronic anxiety is a dreadful drain on productivity, due in large part to its contribution to social avoidance.)
So, while I have a go at mastering the Zen thing, want to see Square no. 2 ?
Comments on the project were very helpful:
Charles suggested moving the end of round join to a corner, which I did, with significantly improved esthetic results.
Kathy pointed out that the blanket is likely to be very heavy - around 40 lbs (dry) by my calculations. In fact, I am hoping that its weight will help it stay in place under conditions of enthusiastic use. It obviously won't go in the washer very often, but beating and vacuuming and surface cleaning should be adequate for day to day upkeep (that's what the couch gets).
And... next on the task list: photographing the yarns for today's update. (FYI - there's a whole bunch of new and exciting sock colours.)
I feel like there's a cloud of things perpetually buzzing around my head. Like juggling balls that I've almost but not actually remotely got under control, or perhaps more like bees that I haven't yet coaxed into a productive hive. (I know nothing about beekeeping, so that may well be a silly analogy. Feel free to correct me.) I tackle them one at a time, with intention: focusing, thinking about what I want to consistently achieve, making plans, trouble-shooting, trying again, keeping track and fine-tuning until they slip into a consistent, sustainable pattern and I can turn my attention to the next thing. And even though I can look back over time and see clear and measureable progress (I have a viable business that I built out of nothing, with my own hard work and ingenuity; I've finally got a do-able weight loss approach, I get out for a walk most days, and many more...) the things flitting in my face never seem to be any fewer, or the buzzing any quieter. Sometimes the anxious suspicion that I am getting nowhere and doomed to do so in perpetuity, feels overwhelming. Plus, I don't see anyone else buzzing, though I would like to think, at least statistically, that I can't be the only one.
I read in the latest Rotary magazine that in the Balti language of northern Pakistan, there is no word for failure - the closest equivalent translates roughly as "transition." Which I find comforting to a point, but I would really like more of my life to be "not in transition." You know - achieved, unassailable, on auto-pilot, completely under control. Come to think of it, that may be the most difficult part of the SAHM/home-business/artist-entrepreneur gig - nothing has a life of its own (other than disorder). If I don't actively make things happen every minute of every day, they don't. (They don't coast to a gentle halt, either, but stop dead in their tracks with a sickening lurch.)
The condo is the giant swarm that gets my attention this week. The arrayed forces of disorder are formidable indeed, but I live in hope that the little battles I've won here and there can be extended to wider domains. To kick things off: combining the virtues of multi-tasking, using-what-you've-got, and creativity, I started a blanket. (As much as it sounds like housework avoidance, this really does make sense.)
I have enormous bags of oddball yarn taking up scarce storage space; I have a couch that is fraying far faster than its replacement is likely to be affordable, and I know how to crochet.
If I make one 12 inch square a day (which is about all my wrist will take), I'll have a generously couch-sized blanket by the end of the summer (or perhaps well into the fall, allowing for the forces of chaos and anarchy):
Construction: dense single crochet, in triple stranded worsted weight (or equivalent) wools. This enhances both its stash busting potential and its durability, as well as keeping the lines clean. Square by square construction gives me the flexibility to change my mind about the final dimensions, as well as keeping the working size manageable.
Colour rules:
1) Uses the colours (or close relatives thereof) found in the couch. This gives me a selection of olive hues, a desaturated emerald, some steel blue with hints of teal, dark cherry red, a variety of warm browns, and charcoal. Not looking for precise matches, but an overall optical effect that harmonizes with the rest of the decor. (If you have been in my home, I am fully aware of the irony of that statement, considering the floor to ceiling stacks of blue Rubbermaid totes that dwarf the dining room table and house the for-sale yarn. There's a plan for those too, but it involves a lot more money and a studio lease.)
2) Red is the common denominator: every square must have at least one round of red (a variety of related reds are acceptable), every second square will be predominately red. When the time comes, they will be all be joined in a single shade of red; possibly after crocheting an extra round or two in the chosen hue onto each square. I'll make that decision later.
By my present calculations, I'm planning on 126 squares (which might make a good Flickr set, come to think of it.) My biggest reservation is the nagging fear that a crocheted blanket can't help but be tacky - crochet was the first fibre skill I learned, and I made some dreadfully hideous things back in the 70's and early 80's. I need to believe I can transcend that history. I'm hoping that careful colour selection and an unfussy graphic esthetic will save me.
The sun is shining, the forest is fragrant:
the first daffodil of the year has dodged the dog's excavatory ambitions:
and a knotty skein of Blissful Sock in River and Rock has been calling my name:
Problem is, I've been seized with a desire for knee socks and an impulsive image of wearing them to dance on the rocks at river's edge, and only one of the Blissful Sock skeins was faulty. Jocelyn insisted that fiscal maturity is over-rated, spring fever addled my brain, and the last two skeins did not disappear over the weekend (I did restrain myself until today), so I grabbed a second one for me me me. (Don't tell Rob - he hates it when I pull perfectly saleable yarn out of the store. He may have a point, considering how much other yarn I have to be getting on with.)
Too late to turn back now:
(Two rounds counts as an irrevocable committment, right?)
You were right. This...
did indeed make an awfully lovely colourway:
and Blissful Sock:
It is EXACTLY how I hoped/intended it would turn out. (And since I have mostly learned to be philosophical and learn-from-failure-ish when my visions are not realized, I think a wee fist pump of triumph when they are is not entirely out of line.)
There's other yarn this week, too - you can check out the newsletter for details if you aren't already subscribed.
That would be Black Tusk, as seen from the top of Blackcomb, looking towards Whistler.
And turning towards the valley...
I know, I've got a jillion things I'm supposed to be doing, but it's bright and warm and time is rapidly running out on the ski season. Besides, there's nothing like a couple of hours of intense high altitude sunshine to reboot the happy.
It turns out that designing while sick was not a good idea, even in stockinette. I wanted mindless knitting, and that's precisely what I got.
Increasing down the yoke at half the proper rate placed the underarm just below my bust, and while I am particularly fond of freedom of movement at the shoulder, that was going a little far. Since the hood, body and one sleeve were complete by the time I finally admitted defeat, I elected to secure the stitches just above the sleeve join and rip back only the yoke (luckily I'm not allergic to grafting.) I wasn't entirely happy with the appearance of my neckline short rows in any case, but was waffling on ripping for that reason alone.
Here's a bit of the sleeve:
Even with the redo, I'm completely excited about this design and can see myself getting daily wear out of the sweater... all the more reason to get the details perfect.
Speaking of design.... still trying to wrest the computer away from Mr. last-minute-tax guy for a few minutes. I really will get to the hat and the shawl this week - honest.
Reminiscent of the classic Provençal blue and gold colour scheme, in any case. These were my computer nightmare destressing project, and served rather well in that capacity.
I spent a while trying to chart a clever and original Fleur De Lys, only to be forced to admit that a basic five stitch diamond creates a pretty decent miniature version:
Sometimes you can't improve on simplicity. I do love the rich and layered look of colourwork done in two semi-solids.
(Yup, I photographed them in an Irish pub, rather than a French restaurant. That's just where the budget is at, right now.)
Pattern: my own
Yarn: Summit Sock in Blueberry Skies and Pumpkin Pie (both of which have just been fully restocked in the Summit, as well as the Mere and Blissful Sock bases.)
Thanks so much for all the offers of test knitting - I will be organizing all that in the next couple of days. (Today was consumed with packing orders and doing up applications for summer venues.)
