Viennese Shrug, from Interweave Knits Summer 2005

6 skeins of Noro Cash Iroha in a tasty raspberry color

US #7 Addi Turbos

Modifications… oh, so very many. Although I have the Morehouse Merino this pattern demands in my stash, it’s earmarked for something else, and I really wanted to make a summery top layer out of this delicious Noro. Long-time readers may be shocked at my decision to knit not one but two shrugs, given my well established sentiments toward Garments Without Fronts. The first time I only had a week to knit something to wear to my sister-in-law’s wedding, and the yarn matched my shoes so nicely I couldn’t resist the One Skein Wonder. How can I defend myself this time? I think it was the lace that drew me in. I really enjoy lace knitting, but I don’t find I’m much of a shawl wearer and I’m sure not making any doilies. So I was intrigued by this unusual three-dimensional Viennese Lace pattern, and it was so easy to envision it in the Cash Iroha Mr. Garter gave me last birthday.

Realizing that vision was a little more tricky, since my gauge was wildly different from the pattern’s. I’ll spare you the details of my three failed attempts to achieve anything like the desired shape, lest your eyes glaze over. If you’re just dying to knit a Viennese Shrug in Noro Cash Iroha, you can email me and I’ll be more than happen to hand over my roadmap.

And the verdict? We’re done with shrugs, I swear. I did have a good time making this one despite the obstacles, and I do find that it’s wearable, although I can’t shake the feeling it makes my bosom look like the prow of an ocean liner. Plus the taunts of my friends echo my own deep-rooted antipathies. My friend Rosa teased me about having forgotten to knit the front. I lightheartedly told her I ran out of yarn (which is completely true: I had only a wee pile of ends left over). Let’s just all up and admit that the shrug was an ill-advised fashion foray from the get-go, and publish no more patterns for them. Especially none with tempting lace patterns, okay?

P.S. No, that’s not my garden. It’s the International Rose Test Garden.

P.P.S. No, I don’t speak a lick of German. Here’s my one phrase: der boden ist schmutzig (the floor is dirty). Not very useful in conversation, however true it might be. I certainly don’t know how to sing the praises of interesting Viennese traditional patterns, more’s the pity.

P.P.P.S. I’m a hopeless nerd. I looked up how to say “delinquent” in German. It’s straffaellig.

5:00 p.m. Weave in ends of Viennese shrug while watching replay of Tour de France coverage. Note irony of completing wool blend sweater on hottest day of year. Wish for team car with 72 bottles of water to drink and pour over head a la Floyd Landis.

6:00 p.m. Hungry. No desire to produce any extra heat in kitchen by cooking anything. Crave Thai food.

6:15 p.m. Fortuitously discover excellent Thai restaurant is only ten blocks away from new house. Huzzah! Praise creation of internet. Ten blocks is just at the limit of feasible walking distance through atmosphere of soup outside.

6:30 p.m. Commence eating delicious Thai food in blessedly air-conditioned environment. The world is a brighter place, and not just because the restaurant is painted the orange of life preservers, tiger lilies, and high school gym lockers.

6:50 p.m. Awesome neighbors, it turns out, had the same fabulous idea. Foolishly full of revived spirits, promise them blueberry muffins for the Tour showing tomorrow morning.

7:30 p.m. Return home, realize house is more ovenlike than ever. No chance of baking muffins tonight.

8:00 p.m. Fruitlessly (and, admittedly, listlessly) hunt for box containing Summer ‘05 VK and Frost Flowers pullover pattern. Drink water. Find Spring ‘06 IK instead.

8:30 p.m. Find size 3 Addi circ and Jaeger Siena. Cast on Prairie camisole, slacker freeform heavily modified version of Veronik Avery’s Prairie Tunic, while watching end of Last of the Mohicans on television. Still a bummer when Uncas gets eviscerated and Alice jumps off a cliff. This movie is such a downer. Daniel Day-Lewis sure is tasty in it, though.

9:00 p.m. Vanity Fair on next. Too hot to try to sleep yet, might as well check it out. Rip out beginning of Prairie Camisole, which has somehow ballooned so far beyond original gauge it could engirdle a small hippo.

11:30 p.m. Vanity Fair a total wash. Have failed to comprehend all but the most major plot points. Oh well, book was on reading list anyway. Prairie camisole is finally off to a promising start.

11:45 p.m. Cold shower. Don’t even bother toweling off. Drink extra glass of water.

12:50 a.m. Still awake.

1:17 a.m. Move to window seat in hopes of draft.

1:20 a.m. Realize stark nudity in front of window probably not good for reputation in new neighborhood if anyone should happen to look up here early in the morning. Move to floor near vent.

1:50 a.m. Concede that stark nudity on scratchy wool carpet is not that comfortable.

2:00 a.m. Fetch towel from bathroom. Step on cat, who is sprawled out asleep or comatose on bathroom tiles. Drink more water.

2:02 a.m. Arrange towel on floor by vent. Lie awake contemplating shaving poor cat.

2:05 a.m. No clippers in house. Would have to use Granny’s ancient German sewing scissors, which, though mostly indomitable, probably aren’t up to a whole cat’s worth of snipping.

2:07 a.m. Cat would be laughingstock of local feline posse anyway. Already took a drubbing from Big Bossy Felix of two doors down.

2:30-ish a.m. Fall briefly asleep.

4:00 a.m. Body temperature sufficiently reduced to get back on the bed. A little more sleep.

5:20 a.m. Too hot again. Might as well get up and make muffins.

6:40 a.m. Muffins out of oven. Don least heat-retaining clothing in wardrobe, walk to Bike Gallery.

8:00 a.m. Floyd seems to have assured himself the yellow jersey. Have spun a second spindle-full of wooly singles in Axel teal; ready for plying tomorrow. Muffins have been devoured by ravenous bikers.

8:15 a.m. Return home. Think about walking down to farmers’ market for fruit. Weigh desire for fresh cherries against desire not to move. Read blogs and drink water to postpone decision.

9:15 a.m. Walk to market. Commiserate with fellow shoppers about mugginess. Envy neighbor hitching up boat trailer and other neighbor heading to the mountains to bike and camp by lake.

9:35 a.m. Return home. Realize oven has been on this whole time. Whole kitchen already felt like 375 degrees anyway.

10:00 a.m. Start to organize knitting library. Spy cat draped on floor near vent a la Salvador Dali.

10:30 a.m. Join cat on floor. Read through Folk Knitting in Estonia. Drink water.

10:35 a.m. Note absurdity of planning to knit woolen mittens when it’s at least 85 degrees indoors. Wish Portland were in Estonia.

10:38 a.m. Check weather in Estonia. Highest temperature in entire country is 74 degrees.

11:00 a.m. Better skein up this morning’s spinning to be ready for plying.

11: 27 a.m. Brainwave! Could fill tub with cold water and knit Prairie camisole while wallowing! Genius! Will let you know how it goes.

…and then, Hot Damn! I wish I could knit like my great-granny! I’m hazarding a guess that’s who made these absurdly adorable tiny booties. They’re the greatest find thus far among the things shipped out from my grandmother’s house in Connecticut. They look too antique to have been made for my dad or his brother, so I’m going to guess they go back another generation. Some ancestress, anyway, had mad knitting skills, and I’ve been trying to puzzle out exactly how these booties were constructed so I can reverse-engineer a pattern. As far as I can tell, the garter feet were knit flat and seamed up, and then the ribbed section was picked up and worked in the round. There are little short rows on the heels and everything. And the gauge? Eleven stitches per inch, people. These were worked on much tinier needles than my trusty size 0’s, another factor that makes me think they predate the 1940s. Some woman lovingly patched a few holes, and they’ve been washed enough to have gently felted. I like to think of my father having worn them as a wee baby. Now I get to save them for my own offspring. Let’s have a little more gratuitous cuteness:

Yesterday I ended the longest knitting drought I’ve had since I began nearly two years ago. I hadn’t knit since the World Cup final, if you can believe it. Four whole days without knitting! That’s because my parents were here and we all rolled up our sleeves and plunged into home improvements with scarcely a break for food, let alone fiber. (I know we could argue they’re of equal importance, but food won out because I was already starting each day spinning during the Tour de France. Need I remind you that it begins at 5:30 a.m. out here in the west, on the sane days when they have the flat stages? We will not speak of the 3:30 start for tough mountain stages like yesterday’s. Not even I am that crazy.) We painted the basement, we built 80′ of shelving (yes, that’s feet, not inches), we sawed the boxspring in half so we could get it up the stairs at last, we unpacked and unpacked and unpacked some more. And guess what? The house is still full of boxes. And all the while, I was racing to meet freelance deadlines. So when I packed off the proofread galleys of The Society of Secret Superheroes yesterday afternoon, it was finally time to treat myself to this:

Dear neglected Viennese Shrug, thy yarn is like blackberry sorbet. Why have I not finished you yet? I’ve just joined the second sleeve for working in the round, so the knitting should move quickly from here. And I couldn’t resist showing you the view above my head as I lounged in the shady back garden. Anyone spurning pink and green as “so two years ago” ought to take a gander at my mimosa tree. Those were its flowers in the pictures of Pomatomus, outrageous blooms that remind me of punk rockers, fireworks, and sea anemones.

But now it’s back to work in the basement. I can hear Mr. Garter running the power tools, and sometimes he forgets to use the level. Plus there’s another segment of wall to paint “sunporch” yellow.

A good Bastille Day to the French folk out there!

Reclining in the slug-eaten calibrachoa. Poor sock deserves better, I decided. So I went around to my mother-in-law’s side of the house to pose it among the dianthus.

Much nicer. I’m using Claudia Handpainted fingering weight in “Plumlicious” – oh, how plummy! I love the way it’s working up with nary a flash nor a pool – this happy result has persisted through the first two repetitions of Chart A since I took these pictures. And I haven’t found the pattern to be too toothy yet, although I did have to tear out half a chart repetition this morning when I got a little too glued to the Germany-Sweden match. World Cup soccer is prime for knitting, by the way. Nothing is as ideal as the Tour de France*, but soccer is a close second. Unfortunately, the Viennese Shrug requires a little too much attention to the pattern to be good TV knitting, but I’d say it’s five eighths finished. Of course, I’m not going to want to model it for you while it’s 95 degrees, which is the weather we’re having this week. We’ll have to take some pictures at dawn while it’s still cool (and this is the beauty of Portland – unlike NYC, it really does cool off most comfortably after the sun goes down). Fingers crossed, but I think I’m going to be very pleased with my modifications. I’ve also finished the Scarf-for-Money, which I’ll block tomorrow and then mail back to New York. No pictures, of course, but I’ll say that should you get the chance to knit with Rio de la Plata wool, you should absolutely snap it up.

What’s next? I need to pull up my socks and just finish Rosalind’s crochet edging. I’ve totally lost steam with that project because I’m pretty sure it isn’t going to fit me very well when it’s all done, and I’ll have to find someone to whom I can give it away. I also have some design projects in the works, and an entire blanket that’s supposed to be done by October. Sigh. Don’t you just wish you could knit faster? It’s not that I don’t take pleasure in the process. I actually mind frogging much less than most people I know, because it’s so enjoyable to keep working on the piece (present issues with Rosalind notwithstanding). But there are so many ideas in my head that I just can’t keep up! I made it a goal to work on my own designs this year, and I just need to start realizing my sketches in yarn. Luckily, between the World Cup and the fast-approaching Tour, there’s lots of good knitting time blocked out.

*Coming soon: a post about what I’ll be doing during the Tour, besides cheering on Ivan Basso!

Ciao from drippy, dismal New York. I surely picked the wrong week to visit, weatherwise. And also cultural events-wise – Shakespeare in the Park opens with the Scottish Play, featuring Liev Schrieber and my personal heroine Jennifer Ehle… the day after I leave. I am heartbroken. If I didn’t have a job interview (for a job I really do want) in Portland on Tuesday, I would absolutely change my ticket. Who doesn’t want to see Lizzy Bennet become Lady Macbeth? It’s like a twisted fantasy in which life at Pemberley goes horribly awry. But back to the weather: nothing but clouds and rain and sodden tennis shoes for the past three days. And my one mission (to find a new pair of jeans that fit, for cheap) failed completely. Sixteen pairs I tried on, and the only one I liked was missing its metal fastener. Had they been even cheaper, I would have bought them anyway and come up with a creative solution. But they were so Haute Designery that even with the massive Century 21 discount, they weren’t quite attractive enough. Sigh. Mr. Garter doesn’t understand what could possibly be so difficult about finding a decent pair of jeans.

Knitting-wise, progress is steady on the Viennese Shrug sleeve. I think I’ve finally found the perfect combination of ignoring and not ignoring the pattern. No more batwings, and although the sleeves may come out a little longer than the designer intended, I think I’ll like them that way. And I should have just the right amount of yarn (knock on wood). (Nonsequitur number two: We knock on wood so that the naughty spirits who live in the wood won’t hear us and thwart our plans and assumptions that all will be well. If there’s no wood nearby, you don’t have to knock.)

I’ve also taken on a deadline project, for actual money. I don’t think I ought to say much about it here, but it’s a sample scarf for a magazine that I’m knitting up for somebody else. Anyway, I get to use Rio de la Plata, a yarn a little outside my price range that I’ve coveted for many moons. Awesome yarn, and cash? Sign me up, baby. These days I’m all about the freelance work, which is why I’m spending valuable knitting time proofreading young adult novels (okay, that’s something I love doing, so the fact that it requires my full attention and precludes knitting doesn’t chafe too badly) and summarizing legal depositions. So how much the merrier if I can freelance knit? Rosalind is tapping her foot and still waiting for that crochet edging, though, and Conwy#2 still needs a foot.

But I think I may blow them both off and head to Macy’s. I’m not in New York too often these days, you know? And I do have a credit there from the return of a bridesmaid’s dress. Tomorrow I’m meeting Steph and Lisa for a yarn crawl to School Products and Habu, so it’s just as well if I save my real money. Just don’t be too surprised to see me in the same shabby old jeans for a few months. I promise to knit patches if they develop any holes that compromise my virtue.

A Conwy sock! How I love Knitting on the Road. I’ve been wanting to make these for a long time, and my mother has a birthday coming up. Blue is her color, so I think these will be a hit. But I’ve also offered them up for sockless Sockapalooozers, if there are any neglected souls out there with size 9 feet and scrawny calves. My mum’s the best to knit socks for because our legs and feet are the same size. We watched a lot of episodes of 24 the past two nights, so this sock’s mate has most of a leg already. This pattern isn’t a quick knit, given all those little micro-cables, but it’s pretty mindless once you’ve done a few rounds. Perfect television knitting, unlike this:

I give you a partial sleeve of the Viennese Shrug from last summer’s Interweave Knits, modified for Noro Cash Iroha. As I mentioned before, I’ve had to do some creative work with the lace chart and some heavy-duty frogging, but I think we’re on the right track now. The lace is intentionally 3-dimensional so it’s difficult to see the form of the pattern, but I’m liking it. I love the color, and the smooth action of the Cash Iroha. This piece is knit from the center back with a provisional cast-on so you can pick up and work the second sleeve. I dig the seamless knits, especially after the Rosalind debacle.

Finally, I’d be remiss if I didn’t confess to this:

Oops, I stashed.

The Lake Oswego Farmer’s Market opened up the Saturday before last. No one told me there was yarn. I traipsed merrily in expecting vegetables, baked goods, flowers – the usual. But the folks from SuDan Farm weren’t just selling their lamb – they had a wheel set up to crank out the handspun, too. How was I supposed to resist a chocolate skein of Coopworth from a lamb named Macaroon, I ask you? I pointed this out to Mr. Garter:

Me: Look, it’s from a sheep called Macaroon! How cute is that?
Mr. Garter: You took his underpants.

Ever the realist, my husband. Whatever, I’m making Macaroon mittens. But right now I’m off to Jim & Patty’s coffeeshop to finish the Viennese Sleeve. And then it might be naptime. I was rudely wrenched from slumber at 3am when Mingus, who was sleeping on my legs as always, suddenly hissed and flew about six feet through the air to attack another cat that was in our bedroom. Or it may have been a raccoon – it was dark, and I wasn’t wearing my contacts. But there was a big fight going down and I’d just been asleep. We’d left the door ajar for ventilation, and someone who didn’t belong had waltzed right in. Fortunately, my brave kitty sent him packing. Three cheers for Mingus!

But it’s been an interesting week, overall.

1. On Wednesday I did my first volunteer day on the farm for the CSA we’ve joined (CSA, for those who don’t know, stands for Community Supported Agriculture. It’s a produce co-op.), and I met some delightful young farmers. We transplanted hundreds of squash, cucumber, and melon starts. We also pulled thistles in a thunder-and-hail storm. I felt very dedicated to the agriculture as the rain drenched my cotton pants and the hail spattered mud up under my enormous rain jacket as I wrestled the slippery thistle roots, let me tell you.

2. I wrote letters to the city government protesting the possible conversion of some of the best farm land into a dog park.

3. I re-learned to change a tire – yes, I’ve changed tires before, but I haven’t had to do it in many years, and I’ve never used the kind of jack our new car uses.

4. I went to Mr. Garter’s great-uncle Wilbur’s 90th birthday party.

5. I even made a new knitting friend: Jen and I finally met in person yesterday at Abundant Yarn for a few hours of knitting, yarn fondling, and coffee. We both like children’s literature, Corgis, and Trekking sock yarn, and we want to learn about plant dyes. We also share a desire to be Nancy Bush’s personal servants, but who doesn’t? I’m going to see if I can’t talk her into going down to the Black Sheep Gathering with me next month. Anyone else want to go? It sounds like the Rhinebeck of the West, y’all!

And finally, we turn to the knitting itself. I’m waiting for my friend Rosa to come visit this week and buck up my courage to tackle the crochet edging of Rosalind, so I went ahead and cast on something new – the Viennese Shrug from last summer’s Interweave Knits. I do have a stash of the Morehouse Merino the pattern requires, but it’s for a Teva Durham sweater. And it’s orange. I really wanted this shrug to be a deep, sultry boysenberry color… just like the Noro Cash Iroha that Mr. Garter bought me for my birthday last summer. Of course, the Cash Iroha is a heavier yarn and knits up to a totally different gauge, so I just made some rough calculations and cast on to see what would happen. Overall, I think the experiment will work, but I need to rip back part of the sleeve I knit yesterday and change the rate of the decreases, because currently there’s some rather ’80s bat-wing action going on. I could base-jump off the roof wearing this thing if the lace didn’t let so much air through. (It would be a lot easier to understand if you could see a picture, huh? Pray for the recovery of the Ready NAS, my friends!) Part of the trouble is that there’s no schematic for this pattern – not even a picture of the finished garment that really shows what shape it’s meant to be. Usually IK does a pretty respectable job of this, so I’m a little disappointed. But oh well, I’m chalking it up to Experimental Knitting. If I want to develop my skills as a designer, there’s a lot I need to learn about shaping, so this is just practice. And if the shrug goes completely awry, I’ll just have to cast on for the second Conwy sock. Yes, there’s a first one! It looks great, and I’d love to show you a picture! Sigh. I think I’d better go meditate and detach myself from my computer dependency.