Life's a Stitch

This is a a post about Touch Me, an exorbitantly priced,  ultra soft seductive yarn. It woos you with its sensuous hand. I am ashamed to admit I have given in to this temptation twice. But eventually, as in all steamy relationships, the hormones subside and reality sets in. It’s a proven scientific fact.

Touch me is chenille made from rayon and wool. Chenille has a tendency to worm. This means no matter how careful or skilled a knitter you are, the stitches possess the ability to seek freedom. They wiggle and slither on their own, until they pop right out, looking like a dropped stitch. Everything looks fine and then boing – out pops a loop! Some of my loops were long enough to clip and tie into knots that sure as heck better stay in place.

Now, they tell you in the books, that you have to felt Touch Me and this seals the fate of wayward stitches. Drown those suckers in hot agitating water and fry them in the dryer and they’ll learn their lesson and stay in place. Note: before felting, it is important to weave in every last end. If they are left exposed, they come out of the dryer naked – all that’s left is a scrawny black thread. Same goes for really large worms. It is better to tie them off then have a loopy thread in the middle of your scarf. Of course, you could take the chance, hope that in the shrinking process that worm gets swallowed back into the body, and tie the naked threads afterwards.

The other part good about felting Touch Me, is that it gives your project a lovely crushed velvet look. But before drying, there’s a moment of sheer panic, when it feels hard as a rock and appears crushed to death:

Mine is in the dryer now, and having had the opportunity to use this yarn before, I’m not as terrified. Then why in my stomach churning? There’s the timer on the dryer!

The finished product, first before felting, then felted:

One of the worms was still there, although smaller. It was interesting, the Vintage Velvet pattern from Scarfstyle, said to expect a 10% rate of shrinkage with a finished length of 68". Mine actually grew in length, from 60" to 64" but shrunk in width. I was surprised at how much shorter mine turned out since I omitted the first and last stitch of each row, hoping to be able to conserve yarn.

A note to Marsha, if you’re reading this. You are usually there when this happens to me. Please, please don’t let me get involved with Touch Me again. Remind me of the anguish. Don’t let me make the same mistake twice three times. Oh, but it feels so good at the time.

UPDATE:

Thinking about worming I’m wondering if it has to do with how the yarn is wound onto the spool. I had four skeins from one dye lot and one from another. The last one wormed more than the first four. I also needed to untwist the yarn from this skein quite frequently.

I was giving Gracee dog her ear drops today. It’s difficult since she has the ability to close her ears. That got me thinking what if we could close our ears like she can? It would be a physical way of doing "I’m not listening." We could adjust the volume of life by partially shutting our ears. It would be a method of selective listening (like some people we know need another way of doing that). When in the presence of foul language we could command our children to "Close your ears!"  This one gets filed in the "someone’s got to think about these things" category.

Another summer finished object. This one is a gift, a combination of serpentine ribbon and variegated mohair held together.

What if I can finish two more summer projects this weekend, bringing the total to three scarves and the Shoalwater Shawl? Oops, I spoke too soon. Two hours after writing this I was on the last 24 stitches of the Shoalwater and what did I discover? A major dropped stitch mistake seven rows down. That will teach me to knit in LED flashlight glow while watching Lost! Now the question is, do I pick out 2800 stitches or frog it back and pick up 400? Sometimes that takes the same amount of time.

And what if you were one of those people on Lost? Wouldn’t you have picked up some sticks and started knitting coconut hair by now?

I love the story about the difference between an optimist and a pessimist: two kids enter a room full of horse poop. One says, "Boy, it smells like shit in here."  The second says, "I know there’s a pony in here somewhere." I am generally in the pony camp. Even when life gives you a bite on the but, or three.

Yes, that is another broken Knit Pick Options cable. This time I was working on a much lighter weight project when it happened. I would seriously be afraid to use them on a complicated lace project. Of the three interchangeable kits I own, these might be the nicest to knit with, but the Boye’s are the most reliable. My Denise set has been left in the dust.

Remember when my blog turned into an ACL graft blog over Christmas, when I spent eight weeks on crutches? At my nine month followup visit, my graft has been declared a technical failure. It appears that it is still somewhat attached, but not reliable enough to give up the brace. Ever. It’s not the worst thing in the world, just a let down.

The icing on the cake – being called back for a third mammogram and an ultrasound. This is not unusual for me, so I’m not extremely worried. But, the last time, with the contortionistic angle at which they had me posed, I was afraid stitches were going to be required right between the girls. Oh mama.

Today my middle child returns from her eight month coop placement in Toronto. She’ll only be home for a few days before going back to school a few hours away, but it’s a lot better than a few thousand miles away! See? There is a pony in here.

This is part two in the Catholic knitting category. As a child, when confronted by a daunting task, we were advised to "offer our actions up to the souls in Purgatory," the Catholic version of grin and bear it, except that as an added bonus, you were accumulating credits to get someone promoted from Purgatory, a holding area for those souls not quite good enough to enter the Pearly Gates. Got that?

In my last post I talked about undoing the bind off for my daughter’s wedding sweater and picking up the 350+ stitches. One row into the re-knitting of the shawl collar, I noticed that in the row below, there was a loose stitch every three stitches, from casting off with a larger needle, stretching the stitch below. So, I ripped out an additional three rows and picked up those stitches again. I started knitting again to discover a mistake three rows previous. You got it, I ripped it out again and picked up for the third time the 350+ stitches, thinking this would have been a good example of an opportunity to "offer it up to the souls in Purgatory." Someone surely would have made the transition into Heaven based upon 1150 stitches.

New yarn alert: I was in Michael’s the other day and saw Paton’s wool-soy stripes, new for the Fall. Interesting medium weight yarn, with a soft halo, in colours named of flowers. It would make a lovely multidirectional scarf. And knitting good news: I had a call from the woman at Marilyn’s in B’Ham (see my last post) and she has a ball of Touch Me in her personal stash that she is willing to sell me. Stay tuned for a photo of a finished Vintage Velvet scarf in the next two weeks.

Finally, does anyone know to which type of bird these feathers belong? Over the years I have picked up three of this kind in different neighbourhoods. The shaft is bright coral orange in colour. I live in the Pacific Northwest, and can’t think of a possibility in the wild. Could they be from pet birds?

I’ll tell you what makes me cringe – finding out a pubic that would be public (thanks, Marsha) toilet seat is wet AFTER you sit on it. I check each time, but sometimes wet is clear. Eeeewwww. My knitting buddy, Marsha the nurse, tells me no worries, urine is most often sterile. Phew, I feel better now.

I may have solved the problem with my Touch Me scarf. I stopped into Marilyn’s yarn shop in Bellingham, to see if they possibly had one skein of the red. Although there was none in the store, she offered to sell me one from her personal stash at the price she originally paid for it. She’ll call me this week if it indeed matches. While I was there, I bought a skein of Socks That Rock in the Lagoon colourway. Marilyn’s is one of three stores in WA that sells STR.

My health insurance contributes $300 to the price of new glasses every two years. Four years ago that covered the total cost of my progressive lenses in decent frames. Two years ago, it covered all but $126. Now, buying comparable frames and lenses I could end up paying over $200! What’s with this? Do the suppliers recognize that many people have insurance coverage and up their prices accordingly? Is the insurance industry not keeping up with the true cost of eyewear?

The same seems to be happening with my dental bills. It  might have something to do with the fact that my dentist moved to Gucci new waterfront offices with a view of the seals playing in the harbour. Come to think of it, only the staff benefits from the view, as all I can see is the ceiling.

Sometimes cutting corners to save money backfires. Here is my Touch Me scarf. I tried to economize by buying four balls of the yarn instead of five, even though it was on sale. My gauge seems to be right on, but the finished product will be way short. Maybe my cables are tighter than most. Funny for a loose woman knittingwise. I called the shop where I bought it and they’re completely out. So the choice is to wait for another shipment and hope the dyelot is close or go with the shorter scarf. Stay tuned. The good thing about Touch Me is that it’s weighty enough to stay in place, so a short scarf is OK. Just think how much I could have saved if I had bought it all on sale to begin with.

Thanks for the well wishes regarding my headaches. I’m going to keep a calendar because I’m sure they are hormonally related. When is my meno going to pause?

It was a nice relaxing weekend until Saturday night at 11:30. The evening was exceptional, Bryant home from his summer camp job for 24 hours. Since C was away, we shared a "Mumsy-Bry Night" (as he called it) starting with what is described as a genuine New York pizza from a new place in town. Now I’m a New Yorker from way back and I know pizza. Believe me, the taste buds never forget. I give this one a 95%, the sauce lacking in garlic and oregano. I’ve only had one or two NY pizzas, outside of NY, that were semi-decent.

We followed the meal with a video – Pirates of the Caribbean. My boy is pirate par excellence. Too bad you can’t make a living imitating pirates unless you’re Johnny Depp or Orlando Bloom. Here he is cooperatively modelling a WIP, which matches his hair. "Excuse the bedhead," says he.

11:30p.m. – it hit. There’s nothing like waking up to the pain of a cluster headache. I thought I had conquered them preventively with new meds and a daily dose of feverfew, but they’re ba-a-ack. Good thing I still had some ice packs in the freezer and pain killers left over from my knee surgery. Every time I have a bout I swear it’s the worst headache of my life. The ones earlier this week were nothing compared to this and I’m pretty pain tolerant.

So today I’m laying low, a combination of pain meds and headache hangover. In need of comfort I indulged:

Comfort food = Nectarine crisp, a very simple recipe, topped with low fat whipped topping:

Comfort knitting = Touch Me. Pure indulgence, I’ve begun the Vintage Velvet Scarf from Scarf Style. It calls for five skeins of this mortgage-the-house yarn. I’ve settled for four, three were in my stash from a previous sale. I’ve omitted the first and last stitch from each row, which will add an additional row after every 16th, so the length will be acceptable. It’s an interesting combination of a reversible cable done in a 1×1 rib stitch and mistaken rib on the sides. I’m having a better experience with Touch Me, having been given bad advice last time about needle size, from a sales clerk who based her guidance on her unique knitting habits.

We Catholic raised kids had a solution to finding lost items. We prayed to St. Anthony, the patron saint of things misplaced. He has even come through for my husband who is of the Protestant persuasion. This week St. Anthony responded twice without being asked.

When I finished the wedding sweater for my daughter, I wasn’t quite satisfied with the width of the shawl collar. I had just enough yarn to follow the instructions but It seemed narrow compared to the photo on the pattern. Lo and behold, while searching for my car keys, I unearthed a full skein of Lily Chin Grammercy, the yarn from the shawl collar, hiding in my basket of scarves. I got brave and undid my bind off of 368 stitches. I figured I could get another 1.75 inches out of it and be much happier with the project as it will fit her better.

St. Anthony #2 happened when I was about out of yarn for my Amazing Lace project, The choice was between binding off, a bit too soon, or ordering another skein of Regal Silk, no longer on sale. Same search for car keys revealed a forgotten full skein hiding in a laundry basket.

Thank you St. Anthony, but please can you help me find my car keys?

My husband has made a fatal error in the world of spousal behaviour and I will never let him forget it. This is a good thing, believe me. Let me put it into context. We were discussing the clutter in our house and how it makes no sense to spend money on things that collect dust i.e. So then we talk about spending money on things we don’t need. He says, can you believe this, "I can understand spending money on jewelry." Stop, forever preserve those words of wisdom, carve them in stone, shout them from the rafters – "I can understand spending money on jewelry." Wait, he tried to backpedal, "I only meant that it’s better than spending on something that collects dust." Too late, my dear.

This is the same wonderful man who told me that the cost of knitting needles doesn’t count as an expense as they are necessary tools for my hobby. Alright, so he was trying to justify the cost of his lathe, the necessary tool of his wood working hobby. I’d have to buy a lot of needles to compete with his lathe. Maybe I already have. If not, I could put the money toward jewelry. I’m keeping this guy.

I’m over my funk. Thanks for all your wishes. We had visitors over the weekend  – our Vancouver Island friends, whose daughter was married the same day as Elina, can you believe it. We were out of touch for a few short months, enough time for the girls to set the same wedding date. We shared pictures, good wine and great memories.

Something to make you smile, my sister’s first scarf, off the needles and onto a cooperative model:

I came home from work to find the house empty of wedding guests for the first time in ten weeks. I’m rattling around this big empty house finding evidence of good times. There are the photographer’s proofs but then there’s the stuff we don’t have pictures of, the memories left to our hearts and heads.

The play pen is empty of sweet baby sounds.We have nine beds and nobody sleeping in eight of them. There are no sisters to knit with and Gracee is going through tug of war withdrawal.

Jelly beans are hiding in odd places in every room. Elina’s wedding favours were jelly bellies in little round tins, however they were overlooked at the reception and the excess have become a staple of the Boesen diet in recent weeks. Do pear jelly bellies count as a fruit?

Pre-wedding chores that had to be done, that didn’t get done, are still there. No grout on the kitchen tiles; the entry door still shakes uncontrollably when you close it. Only now it’s deafening because the house is so empty.

There’s evidence of  wedding – a white dress in a heap on the closet floor, six cake knives with celedon bows and a dozen beribboned Akvavit glasses. A box of leftover invitations, a worn out dishwasher, and thankfully, only a few unpaid bills. There is a jug of well utilized spot remover, a recycling bin filled with cans and bottles and five additional pounds around my middle.

I’ve found an odd assortment of foundations: bustiers, crinolines, push up bras devoid of anything to push up. There’s a box that held a "Free Bra – a new definition of freedom." An odd concept for a wedding.

About this wedding thing, I can honestly say that I never spent any time dreaming of my kid’s weddings, they seemed too young and my dreams were of their education. I could visualize graduations but not marriages. So, this was an educational experience for me. A positive one, all in all. But, it’s over now, and it’s so quiet here.

Can you tell I’m sad? This won’t come as a surprise, a teacher once told me I’m gregarious by nature.