At Knit's End (10 page)

I
needed an easy project, something that I could work on while I watched TV or talked with my knitting friends. I picked a plain scarf with a plain yarn. I began to work with it and quickly discovered that the yarn split badly. It split so badly that I couldn't do anything else while I worked on it. It demanded my full attention for each stitch. I couldn't watch TV; I couldn't talk. After a little while, I discovered that this focused but simple knitting had its advantages. It was almost meditative to form plain stitch after plain stitch, watching the needles move hypnotically row after row.

I will consider that paying attention to my knitting is a good thing, and probably what people are talking about when they say that knitting is “the new yoga.”

 

Fashions fade, style is eternal.

— Y
VES
S
AINT
L
AURENT

I
've just finished knitting myself a copper and gold wrap, made from the most sparkly, elegant novelty yarn. Now, standing in front of the mirror with it draped oh so nonchalantly over my shoulders, I can imagine myself wearing it. I picture myself, tall and long-fingered, dangling a martini at a cocktail party, making witty conversation and charming everyone. The men are enchanted by me, and the women want to be me … and it's all because I knit myself a copper and gold evening wrap.

I will try not to be too depressed when I realize how silly I'm going to look when I wear it to the only place my husband and I go these days — the grocery store.

 

You know you
knit too much when …

Your spouse likes to play a
little game with guests. He
calls it “What do you think
is in here?” and opens every
cupboard, chest, drawer, and
closet in the house to reveal
your yarn stash.

 

No matter how cynical you get,
it is impossible to keep up.

— L
ILY
T
OMLIN

D
ear designer that I shall not name,

I recently purchased your knitting book and was immediately struck by its artistic merit. The photographs are so beautiful, the models so stunning, and the settings so authentic and breathtaking that I scarcely even think of it as a book of patterns, but rather, a tribute to the skill and magnitude of your life's work. I only have one question. I'd like to knit the sweater on page 9, the one where the model is turned toward the sunlight, hair streaming down her back, but I'd like to know whether that's a cardigan or a pullover.

I will tell designers that I would rather have photos of sweaters that clearly show the details of the garment than the incredible ability of your photographer.

 

Ability is what you're capable of doing.
Motivation determines what you do.
Attitude determines how well you do it.

— L
OU
H
OLTZ

G
auge is a precision game; there is no room for a relaxed attitude. There are many knitters who, after knitting a couple of gauge swatches, make the classic error of thinking that a measly little inconsequential half stitch more per inch is no big deal. So it will be a little smaller. That's okay. For example, how about a sweater that has a bust measuring 40 inches, with a gauge of 4 stitches to 1 inch. You are getting 4½ stitches
to the inch and you just ran out of patience for this whole “getting gauge game.” You are planning to go ahead. In the end, you will end up with a sweater that is 35½ inches around. A half stitch in the other direction, and your sweater measures 46 inches. Gauge is serious business.

I will remember that not everyone likes knitting to be serious. If I decide to play it fast and loose with gauge, I will make a point of befriending people of various sizes and shapes. It will fit someone.

 

We don't receive wisdom:
we must discover it for ourselves
after a journey that no one can
take for us or spare us.

— M
ARCEL
P
ROUST

A
s I carried the finished sweater to the bathtub for its “victory blocking,” I practically danced. This sweater had been a big deal. It was fancy and complex and the pattern had stated the wrong amount of yarn and, despite getting gauge, I'd had to go back to the yarn shop twice to get more. I'd written the designer and she maintained that the yardage in the pattern was correct,
but somehow it had taken me an incredible six extra balls to finish it. I put the sweater in the water to soak and returned 10 minutes later. I lifted the sweater from the water and just about suffered a stroke. The sweater was huge. Massive. Beyond colossal. The arms dragged on the ground. I was heartbroken; I couldn't even think of a human it would fit.

I will consider the possibility that, if it takes me a great deal more yarn to knit something, the extra yarn will surface at some point.

 

Under the fence,
Catch the sheep,
Back we come,
Off we leap!

— A
RHYME TO TEACH
CHILDREN TO PURL

M
any knitters hate purling because somebody told them that it was horrible.

When I teach children to purl, I will make sure they don't get that idea from me, even if it means lying.

 

People who have what they want are fond
of telling people who haven't what they want
that they really don't want it.

— O
GDEN
N
ASH

I
t is perhaps a sign that your attachment to your yarn (or yarn that you think should be yours, such as most of the stock in your local yarn shop) is getting out of hand if you have lied to another knitter about the properties of said yarn.

In the interest of being a good and honest person, I will refrain from referring to the first-class merino in the shop as “scratchy” when I see someone else looking at it. There is butter that is scratchier than that yarn.

 

In through the front door,
Once around the back,
Peek through the window,
And off jumps Jack.

— A
RHYME TO TEACH
CHILDREN TO KNIT

I
will remember that knitting is not hard, and that most children can learn to do it about the time they are ready to learn to read.

I will remember, too, not to take it personally when they learn much faster than I did.

 

You know you
knit too much when …

There is a knitting project
or yarn in every room of
your house, including the
bathroom.

 

Learning is not attained by chance,
it must be sought for with ardor
and attended to with diligence.

— A
BIGAIL
A
DAMS

M
y 11-year-old daughter was knitting the other day when she had a breakthrough, an accident that resulted in learning something incredible.

“Mom!” she said. “If you knit two together, you have one less stitch and you make the knitting smaller!”

“That's a good thing to know; that's a decrease,” I replied, very, very impressed with my clever child. She had just made the same discovery that some other knitter had made for the first time in
the fourth century. How many knitters have had this exact moment? Millions? Ladies-in-waiting, peasants in huts, lawyers in New York, nomads in the Arabian Desert. How many people down through history have thought, “Hey, if I knit two together …”

I will stay connected to the history of knitting, while remembering that just because a billion people thought of this before my kid did, she's still freakin' brilliant.

 

We are hungry for things that
have touched human hands.

— F
AITH
P
OPCORN

T
his is the reason that people are driven to knit. This is why someone will spend 59 hours making a sweater when they could have had one that looks like it for $20. This is why the words “hand knit” are magical.

I will remember, when I see a sweater in the store just like the one I'm killing myself knitting, that even if mine turns out wonky and crooked and costs me my sanity and more money … I'm making a way better sweater.

 

A private railroad car is not
an acquired taste.
One takes to it immediately.

— E
LEANOR
R. B
ELMONT

W
hen I first started knitting, I used cheap acrylics. I was loath to spend my money on expensive yarns that my skills wouldn't live up to. Everything I knit was misshapen; the gauge was off; and my work was rife with dropped stitches, holes, and random increases and decreases.

When I was finally seduced by a fine wool, I was shocked by how quickly my work improved. Having good yarn to live up to was a powerful motivator.

When choosing materials for my projects, I will buy the best that I can afford; there's not a lot of encouragement in cheap yarn.

 

Accept the challenges so that you can feel
the exhilaration of victory.

— G
EORGE
S. P
ATTON

K
nitters are driven by the challenge of taking a ball of string and turning it into a new and interesting finished object. This is what makes knitting a pair of socks or mittens a double dare. Halfway through, you are confused by the presence of a completely finished garment.

I will accept that things that come in pairs are a unique opportunity for a knitter to prove her tenacity and rise to a challenge. I will also accept that if I know someone who is willing to wear mismatched socks, I may never meet this challenge.

The act of unknitting knitting
one stitch at a time.

I
t is used to correct small and recent errors, and its advantage is that the knitting need not be removed from the needles, saving time and concern for dropped stitches. It is called “tink” because that is “knit” spelled backward.

I will consider, no matter how afraid I am that I might not be able to get my work back on the needles, that tinking is not the answer if I need to undo 67 rows of 100 stitches.

 

A positive attitude may not solve all
your problems, but it will annoy enough
people to make it worth the effort.

— H
ERM
A
LBRIGHT

T
here are many different ways to knit socks. I use the flap heel, always, every time. I think it's pretty clever, I like that I can reinforce the flap where the back of the shoe rubs, and I like picking up stitches for the gussets. I lied. I
love
picking up stitches for the gussets. I like that, at least in my mind, when I turn the heel, I am halfway. Gloriously halfway.

When celebrating the halfway point on a sock, I will try to let my joy be complete, and forget that there is still another sock to go.

 

Hard work never killed anybody,
but why take a chance?

— E
DGAR
B
ERGEN

I
ntarsia is pretty cool, but its downside is that when you are finished there are a multitude of ends to weave in. We all wish there was some way around this but, sadly, there is no way to do intarsia without ends decorating the inside like shag carpet. I would advise you to weave in as you go … as I've learned from my mistakes. The last time I did intarsia, when I left all the ends until I was finished, then, overwhelmed by the sheer mass of ends, I suffered a fit of apoplexy and denied all knowledge of the sweater.

I will remember that weaving in as I go increases the odds of having a finished project.

 

Just think of all those women on the
Titanic
who said, “No, thank you,”
to dessert that night. And for what!