Could Barbara Walker be...wrong?

I’ve been trying to swatch a pattern from Barbara Walker’s A Second Treasury of Knitting Patterns, a pretty little background lace called Cherry Tree. I tried it once. Decided I counted wrong, then tried again. And again. I wasn’t knitting under the influence. Nor was I asleep at the needles. I added, subtracted, counted and recounted. How can you get from the 19 stitches in row 4 to the 22 stitches in row 5? (See below.)

Could it be that Babs is wrong? Could it be that we need to interpret the Bible rather than take it literally? People, I need an answer.


Oh, and for a quick yarn-related yuk, read Sunday's Doonesbury. (Courtesy of my BIL.)

Oh those Russians

Yesterday I was bouncing down the Information Superhighway when this crossed my path: Taiga Yarns, a North American distributor for Russian knitting products. One would assume that a busy professional such as myself would keep on trucking, but one would be wrong. My mouse left skid marks.

Inside you’ll find camel yarn for $4.95/218 yds! Camel! Alpaca for $3.35/208 yds. Laceweight, natural-colored goat down for $5.85/514 yds. Also, tons of blends, including linen and silk, some classic wools and a 50/50 angora/wool blend that looks slipper-worthy.

What really got me, though, were the magazines. Years ago when I was young and my brain wasn’t like hard cheese like it is now, I studied Russian language, minored in it in fact. Studied it for so long you’d think I’d be able to discuss the failure of Marxist philosophy in the former Soviet Union with Mikhail Gorbachev in his native tongue. But again, you would be wrong. Instead these are the extent of my Russian language skills: I can get myself to a ladies room. Order a glass of wine. And ask the question critical in all international travel, “How much”? 

(N.B. For the record, the Secretary of State and I, co-alumnae of the same fine institution of higher learning, had the same Russian professor. I wonder if she can get herself to a ladies room?)


While some of the covers didn’t appeal to my American sensibilities, this being one of them (see below), I thought I might be able to brush up by translating a few Russian patterns.

Russian knitting magazine

This model (below) looks as if she could eat an American man for breakfast as a side with her herring and eggs.

Russian 2

Snarkiness aside, Russia has an amazing knitting culture and I can’t wait to get my hands on some of these mags. OK, so how much?

Too many things to knit

Do you ever feel overwhelmed by the projects in your queue? Like you’re knitting needles are bigger than your stomach? Or something?

My project line up includes a bit of knitting-for-hire (which, let me tell you, unnerves me more than it would to interview Dick Cheney, and the Vice President unnerves me A LOT), a couple of design projects (the frogged beta version of one such ill-conceived garment pictured with Stanley below), the Endpaper mitts, a sweater from VK Fall 2006, some gift knitting (ee-gads that’s just around the corner) and Cheryl Oberle’s poor Little-languishing-Edo. Then I had to go and paw through Yarnplay, as if there weren’t more pressing things on tap, and spied Edie (top left).

And, it’s Mom’s birthday. She hasn't blogged since fall, 'cause she has even more in her queue than me!


There she is again, exploiting me for my looks.”

Wednesday Miscellany: Odd lot

Been thinking about:

1. Latvian mittens. A lot. (Who knew there was this fabulous blog with resources, angst and everything—Knit Like a Latvian? You probably did. I’m slow on the uptake.)

2. Orange-basil soap. Homemade.

3. Organic yarn and sheets. BBB has a queen set for $69.99. Imported though.

4. New week-night recipes. Am in a total cooking rut.

5. Wild Fibers Magazine. Don’t you love it?

6. Knit skirts.

7. Western interior design. God, we need help.

8. Yoga. Thinking about it. Not doing it.

9. Naps. Always.

10. Query letters. Again, thinking about ‘em. Not doing ‘em.

Let's get physical

(Gawd. Remember that song? I recall doing pounding aerobics in a thong leotard to that very piece of music, back in the day when I could pull off a thong leotard. Shows you how long ago that was.)


I spent the weekend peeling wallpaper at El Rancho. Not as glamorous as thong aerobics, but probably burned a few Cs. Enjoyed it thoroughly. Boyd, the fellow who was installing our wood stove, complimented my technique. He laughed, recalling two impatient fellows stripping a sportsman-themed room up in the hills. “Took divets out of the walls the size of your fist.”

“I’m a knitter,” I replied. “I relish boring, repetetive activities.” (I probably didn’t say, “relish,” but let’s pretend I did.) “Besides. It’s easier than writing.”

Isn’t that why we love knitting? Because it’s in our bodies? You have to think a bit here and there, especially when learning a new trick or working a tough pattern, but mostly we’re using our physical selves. Holding a growing sweater in our laps. Flicking our fingers. Tugging at a ball of yarn. I won’t argue that wallpaper abatement is as tactile and sensual as knitting, but it appeals to that elemental side of us that enjoys tasks with defined boundaries. To make visual progress on something you can see and touch, that’s enormously satifying. Afterward, I felt tired in that clean, muscular way, not mentally exhausted and confused like after a day of writing.

That said (Warning: Wallpaper lovers, cover your eyes.) there should be codes prohibiting wallpaper use. Even nice wallpapers like these. Wallpaper, borders, friezes, ceiling papers (oh, God, especially ceiling papers), anaglypta and otherwise, they are all bad. Bad, bad, bad, bad, bad. Why? Because enivitably they have to come down. Paint? Cover it up. But wallpaper? Whether it’s five, 10 or 40 years later, the stuff inevitably is landfill bound. Had there been no wallpaper to remove, I would have enjoyed the aches and pains and rewards of a fresh paint job. But as it stands, we have retexturing, priming and painting to look forward to. Yes, and all those things are easier than writing, too, but must be shoe-horned into precious knitting hours.

So paint an idiosyncratic mural. Hang stunning works of art. But leave the wallpaper at the paint store. ‘Kay?


Signs of spring

Those of you in warmer climes are already seeing flowers and tentatively stripping off sweaters on warmer days. Even here in Colorado where snow threatens weekly, the trees are budding and my bulbs are pushing green shoots into the sun. Given our agricultural success rate, this truly is a miracle.

Lots to gawk at in the knit world, too. The big stories—tunics, jackets and deep-V or scoop-neck pullies. Lots of contrast, black and white, navy and white, nautical looks. And for risque summer tops, look to bare backs.

It's always interesting to see how summer is interpreted editorially. Gardening is presented as a dainty, pristine activity performed in pretty cardies. You won't find a single bead of sweat marring the beautiful brows of these models. Apparently women spend a lot of time at the beach, too. In Colorado this involves trips to the noisy neighborhood pool and earplugs so as to block the ballistic sounds of “keep away“ and “Marco Polo.“ Decades-old beach towels are de riguer attire.

And if we aren't at the beach or in the garden, we're looking jaunty in top-siders and navy-blue stripes on the bow of a yacht.

This describes my upcoming summer perfectly. Does it yours?

1. View Phildar’s new collections. Catalogue un e du

2. The Vogue Knitting spring preview is up. Look for cool cabana looks and seet wear-to-work numbers such as this:


3. Rebecca Magazine serves up pages of lacey garden-party knits and you’re-in-the-navy sweaters.

4. Kim Hargreaves beautifully understated Shades of Pale collection debuted. Check out the details in her reversible tunic. She’s just so good.


5. Tahki Stacy Charles offers a dizzying array of spring designs. From the Tahki collection to the S. Charles Collezione patterns and the Filatura Di Crosa pieces. This knocked my socks off, though I would eschew the stripes.


6. There’s a monk thing that seems to be happening:


7. And Rowan, beautifully but predictably, has everyone looking ready for tea in the garden.


Weird blogging

I wasn’t going to post today—deadlines loom—but ran across this bit in The Denver Post. It’s a feature about longtime Denver artist Susan Wick’s beyond-cool atelier in our fair city’s happening RiNo (that’s River North for the unititiated) District. The ceramic, mosaic she created outside alerts visitors about the nature of the art inside. The sign reads: Paint. Tile. Knit.

Speaking of deadlines, I was chatting with another freelance writer friend yesterday. And though meeting deadlines is the de facto job of any good freelancer, we both agreed that met deadlines deserve rewards. Good freelancer. Gets cookie.

Wednesday Miscellany: Green fiber bits

In the interest of full disclosure, I’ve purchased exactly one skein of organic cotton and one organic yoga top (50 percent off from Patagonia). That’s it. Unless you count all the “recycled” vintage over here. Just so’s you know, it’s not like we’re walking our talk.

But it’s becoming clear that maybe we (meaning we-the-Nakeids) ought to be doing more walking. Even if it costs a few schekels.

So, with that in mind, here are some way-cool organic, quasi-organic, eco-minded temptations:

1. I went ape-shit over this. It’s a Mongolian cashmere hoodie from Stewart & Brown: organic pioneers. But is this a good thing? (Here’s what the web site says: “By keeping all aspects of our cashmere production exclusively in Mongolia we provide nomadic Mongolian herders with the resources necessary to sustain their centuries old heritage and ultimately their survival.”)

 Baarum hoody

2. Knit a plastic-bag tote. I know. I know. The crocheted versions are, um, kinda homely. But this? Makes you want to slice up all the old Safeway bags, don’t it? By the inimitable Erika Knight.

Recycled tote

3. For $50, we should all be showing up at the same event wearing this.

Organic dress

4. These rock. (Magazine racks constructed of carpet underlayment and bungee cord.)


5. Hemp bags instead of Wal-mart bags.


6. A compendium of organic retailers. EcoMall!

7. We’re huge, huge fans of Susan Todd’s recycled, felt-sweater bags. Don’t you adore her?


8. Organic, eco-sweaters. Not cheap, but…

9. Check out blogger Worsted Witch, she has a lot to say about sustainable stuff. She knits and does her due diligence.





Coming clean

The irony of soapmaking is that it’s a messy business. The oils involved slime everything. Bits of raw soap cling to your kitchen cabinets, molds, cutters and self. Equipment must be washed and put up. And everything smells of lavender. For days. (Obviously, it could be worse.)

Once you go homemade, though, you never go back.

It’s what the soap doesn’t do that makes it special. It doesn’t make you itch like a mad dog from head to toe. It doesn’t encourage angry raw places to appear on winter skin. And it doesn’t smell like horse piss and gardenias. At the risk of sounding like a Calgon commercial, it makes showering a lathery, sensual delight. (Get two soapmakers together and they'll talk suds and bubbles like spinners talk staple-length and microns.)

Unfortunately, I make butt-ugly soap. I’ve invested in molds, slicers, colorants. I take pains when I line my molds to smooth any creases in the wax paper. Still it’s ugly like a mud daub on an old fence. But ooh boy, get it into the shower…like butta.

You wanna see some pretty soap? Check out the work of this soap blogger. Lovely. If you want to treat yourself to some homemade bars, visit local farmer’s markets, indie health food stores or check out the amazing offerings at Etsy. (I’m partial to DesertBlends of Taos.)

And get ready to kiss your Dove bar, goodbye!

1. Soap curing in molds 


2. Soap log languishing, ready to be cut.


3. Soap log awaiting the knife in cutter.


4. Soap cutting in process.


5. Three more weeks of curing and it’s bath time!


Where's Cher when you need her?

The Oscar’s were predictably dreary, though Ellen was an amiable breath of fresh air.

Hollywood, however, seemed disingenous in its deification of Al Gore. Folks acted like he was about to sprout wings and ascend to heaven. My question: Where were ya’all six-and-a-half years ago? (Thinkin’ he was Bill’s tight-assed VP, that’s where.)

There were certainly some lovely dresses. Cate Blanchett looked amazing in her second-skin Armani. As did Reese Witherspoon in that gorgeous ombre by Olivier Theskens. Jodie Foster was radiant in a soft blue-grey Vera Wang. And Diane Keaton actually struck a body-conscious note, looking comfortable and fabulous in a black blouse and skirt cinched with a wide patent-leather belt. (Though I’m not sure how I feel about Jack sans hair.)

Others will have snarkier and wittier things to say, as in what were those carbunkles doing on Eva Green’s gown? And where were the sweaters and shawls? Was the Kodak Theatre so warm one needn’t cover bare shoulders?

Thank goodness for Pilobolus.

Your take?