At Knit's End (9 page)

T
he secret to storing lots of yarn is expanded thinking. There is really no reason why yarn cannot occupy any space not occupied by anything else. Take a fresh look at your home, closets, cupboards, and furniture, and ask yourself, “Can I fit a ball of yarn in here?” The world is suddenly full of possibilities. The liquor cabinet? Above books on the bookshelf? The freezer?

I will think creatively before I decide that I have run out of room for yarn.

 

Sometimes I get the feeling the whole world
is against me, but deep down I know that's
not true. Some smaller countries are neutral.

— R
OBERT
O
RBEN

5
ways to fix a mistake in your knitting:

Take the knitting off the needles and rip back the work, then put the work back on the needles.

Unknit the work, going back stitch by stitch.

If the mistake is near the bottom, cut the knitting, unravel it, put the work back on the needles, and knit back down again.

Cut only one stitch in the offending row, unknit those few stitches, repair them, and weave in the ends.

Light a small fire in a metal garbage can, and then throw the knitting in.

I will remain open to drastic measures.

 

Ordinarily he was insane,
but he had lucid moments when
he was merely stupid.

— H
EINRICH
H
EINE

I
have been trying to get my stash of yarn under control. My husband thinks this means that I am trying to get rid of some yarn. In truth, it actually means that I have been trying to find much, much better hiding spots.

I will remember that there is more than one way to get control of an issue.

 

The first step towards amendment
is the recognition of error.

— S
ENECA

K
nitting patterns are notorious for having errors. It is a good practice to read through the pattern before you begin to see whether it seems right. If you run into trouble, you can check with the publisher or the Internet to find out whether an erratum for that pattern has been published. The very clever knitter will check for corrections to the pattern before beginning the project.

Instead of spending 47 frustrating hours trying to figure out what I've done wrong and why I can't fix it while berating my knitting ability, I will consider the possibility that I'm not the one who screwed up.

 

If all else fails, immortality can always be
assured by spectacular error.

— J
OHN
K
ENNETH
G
ALBRAITH

M
any years ago, when I used to smoke, my lighter was often easier to find than my scissors. If I couldn't find the scissors, or was feeling too lazy to get up, I used the lighter to burn the yarn in one place to break it. Other than the smell, this worked fairly well. Later, when I found my scissors, I would cut off the little charred bits.

One day, I was knitting a cotton facecloth and needed to cut the end. I flicked my lighter, expecting to singe the one spot, thus breaking the yarn.

I will remember that cotton is highly flammable, and that the knitting Fates punish laziness. I will also remember that a flaming facecloth can be extinguished with a cup of coffee … in a pinch.

 

Make no little plans; they have no magic
to stir men's blood … Make big plans,
aim high in hope and work.

— D
ANIEL
H. B
URNHAM

W
hen I knit Fair Isle, I carry one color in my left and one in my right. This feat of hand-eye coordination is harder than zooming along with one color in my dominant hand. Give me Fair Isle and I knit each stitch more slowly, but each intriguing little row piles up on top of the other at an astonishing rate. With my wool as my witness, despite its apparent slowness, Fair Isle moves faster than plain knitting. Some say this is due to seeing the pattern emerge. It holds your interest and you work harder, enticing the image out of the wool.

I say it's the magic of Fair Isle.

I will remember that, as unlikely as it seems, sometimes having the bravery to accept a knitting challenge is rewarded.

 

You know you
knit too much when …

Your friends & family know
that you will always accept
yarn sight unseen. Garage
sale yarn, yarn from cleaned-out
basements, other knitters'
castoffs, any yarn at all.

(All you ask is that they leave it in a plain brown paper bag at the door, because you like to pretend you have a reputation to protect.)

 

You have to know how to accept rejection
and reject acceptance.

— R
AY
B
RADBURY

I
f you've knit for a three-year-old, then you understand. Just because he says he wants purple mittens, and you believe you have knit purple mittens, is no reason to believe that the three-year-old in question will believe that these are indeed purple mittens. It's a total crapshoot. As a general rule, I don't knit high investment items for toddlers. I stick to the small stuff. Hats are good. At least then, if you have spent a few weeks knitting a hat and then they dedicate their life to stuffing it behind the car seat and dropping it in the road, it doesn't sting like a spurned sweater.

I will remember not to knit for three-year-olds unless I am going to be pretty relaxed about rejection.

 

I have found the best way to give advice to
your children is to find out what they
want and then advise them to do it.

— H
ARRY
S. T
RUMAN

I
have three daughters, and they all know how to knit. The youngest knits with persistence; the middle one with a passion; and my eldest, now a teenager, wouldn't be caught dead with the needles in her hands. At first, I thought it was because knitting wasn't “hip enough” for her; then I thought she was worried about what her friends would think. Finally, I realized that she doesn't knit … because I do.

I will remember that kids need to rebel to establish their own personalities, and that her rejection of knitting is nothing personal. I will also try not to rub it in when she takes it back up in her twenties.

 

Our children seem to have wonderful taste,
or none — depending, of course,
on whether or not they agree with us.

— A
NONYMOUS

A
t my sister's request, I knit my nephew an acrylic hooded sweatshirt. I hated everything about it: the yarn, the pattern, the making up. With each moment and each stitch I cursed it. I swore on all I hold dear and all I believe to be true that I would never, ever knit its monotonous miles of stockinette stitch; its stupid, stupid pocket; its endless miles of I-cord ties; or its merciless, unending hood again.

Then I found out that my little nephew loves it, he wears it every day, and he is fast growing out of it.

I will remember (as I cast on another acrylic hooded sweatshirt, in the next size) that I knit for love.

 

There is no reciprocity.
Men love women, women love children,
children love hamsters.

— A
LICE
T
HOMAS
E
LLIS

I
f we could somehow magically gather up every hand-knit mitten ever lost by a child and put them in one place for reissue, I doubt seriously that anyone would ever need to knit another one.

When knitting mittens for children, I will remember that they are inherently temporary. That no matter how elegant, stylish, or funky the mitten, children repel mittens on a biological level, and that the lack of respect for the mittens is not an indication of how little respect they have for the knitter.

 

Things won are done;
joy's soul lies in the doing.

— W
ILLIAM
S
HAKESPEARE