My Very First MKAL: Agate Dawn Twists & Turns

This year, I decided that it was the year that I finally, finally do an MKAL.

MKAL stands for a Mystery Knit-A-Long, as in, you are knitting along on a pattern, and you have absolutely no idea what’s going to come next in the pattern. You don’t know the techniques used, you don’t know the stitch patterns or the shapes, you don’t know anything at all about what the final product will be. It’s a risky go, especially if you’re doing a Stephen West shawl pattern.

If you don’t know Stephen West, you should take the time to get yourself familiar. He is all about crazy color combinations, varying and dizzying stitch patterns, and unusual construction techniques. He designs textile art pieces that just so happen to be wearable, and I adore him. I’ve made two of his designs before, but they were definitely less adventurous, so I was really excited to give this a go.

I ordered the Life in the Long Grass singles kit called Agate Dawn, which included 2 skeins each of Agate Stone and Baroque, and 1 of Cool Dawn.

This stuff is super soft and lovely to work with, spun just enough to have good stitch definition and to not split, but not tight enough to over-energize the skein or compromise on loft and drape.

We also got a very cute project bag for participating.

As well as some fun extras, like a sticker, a project tag, and a needle gauge.

Now, MKALs are arranged in sets of clues, and this one was 4 clues all together, released in week-long increments. You had to knit like the wind to finish the clue in 1 week, but I gave it my best shot. (Seriously, I only missed the completion date by about 1 week because of the bad behavior of the shawl. More on that later.)

Right off the bat, the first clue was crazy. There was a long i-cord cast-on edge, then picking up stitches with big open-air loops dangling off the side.

Then more loops.

And chevrons. And stripes. And more goddamn loops!

WTF.

Also, the edges (and every single edge thereafter, I would discover) had an i-cord roll to it, so that the color-switching on all those stripes was cleverly hidden within. I see you there, Stephen. That’s some sexy stuff.

So what to do with all those loops?

Holy shit.

Knit stitches made out of loops of knitting. It’s almost too good.

So, of course now we’re fully hooked into this insanity. Onto the second clue.

Our beautiful accent color makes its first appearance.

And we go full-tilt short row wings, twisted ribbing, and, for some brilliant reason, cables?

It’s become bat wings as well, which pleases me immensely.

I didn’t take very many pictures of this part, because the yarn was dark and hard to photograph, but I did catch this moment, where I thought at first that I was knitting so hard (?) that I bruised my finger, but then I realized that it was just the dye rubbing off. The joys of hand-dyed yarn.

I really loved the way that the picked-up and cast-on stitches made this fun criss-cross pattern on the wrong side.

It’s just getting very cozy and squishy in here. The third clue?

Just batshit again, right out the gate. You knit these long straps of twisted stitch travelling cables, just shooting straight out from the sides of the thing.

Just. What? It was like putting ties on an apron.

Also, right around here is when I got slowed down on my frantic knitting race. I opened up the project bag to start one evening, and a moth flew out.

THAT’S RIGHT. My mortal enemy, the moth. I had an epic showdown with some moths a few years ago, and there was no way I was going to sacrifice this project to those bastards. So, the shawl got bundled up and thrown into the freezer for 5 days so that everyone that was trying to eat it was summarily murdered.

After that, I got to move on, and I opted in on the optional fancy-pants bit of i-cord decoration that winds around the cables.

I mean, how could you not? It’s completely unnecessary, and totally fiddly and time-consuming, and right up my alley.

So, now we have a giant batwing with huge weird straps coming off of it. How on earth does this become a wearable shawl? The fourth clue!

Oh.

This shit just makes my stripe-loving heart skip a beat. All of the negative space created by the straps got filled in with more of these high-contrast stripes, and it all looks amazing with those rolled i-cord edges.

Then there was some more twisted-stitch ribbing, and more stripy chevrons to form the drop on the back. In a very clever bit of sewing, the loops of the formed sculptural knit stitches get incorporated into the whole.

Are we ready for the full reveal now?

It’s just…the weirdest thing possible, and somehow also very…timeless? I have no idea how to describe it. It’s definitely got some Native American influence in the overall effect, but when you wrap it around yourself?

You feel like the most stylish person in the room.

Let’s take a few more looks at those details.

Like, I know that I made the damn thing, but every angle of it makes it seem like a magic trick.

Dan and I tried to take it for a photoshoot on the river, but the wind was just not agreeing with us. Instead, we drove around until we found a tiny picnic table area outside of some stables, with possibly the most beautiful weathered wooden tabletop in existence.

I tried my best to gloriously spread my wings, but I have very short arms and a whole lot of anxiety about having my picture taken.

I was just so happy to be the owner of this beautiful thing. That’s all that matters.

Now, I don’t know if I can ever do a MKAL again, because I don’t know if it can ever live up to this one. Every week was a new, weird, wonderful surprise, and I’m so glad I took the plunge.

Silver Newbury

Remember when I made a beautiful denim-blue tank top last year and stated that I wanted to make one in every color after I was done?

Well, I wasn’t kidding.

The Newbury top is back, baby. This lovely pattern, designed by Amy Palmer for Berroco, just really lit a fire in me, I guess.

I’m not normally a sleeveless top person (as evidenced by my extremely obvious farmer tan), but these silky tank tops are just too good. And what’s that?

A fancy-pants border? Since I can’t simply knit a pattern as written? Yes!

This border comes from Hitomi Shida’s Japanese Knitting Stitch Bible, a fantastic addition to any knitter’s library, especially those who can’t just allow rolled stockinette borders to occur. This is pattern #230, tweaked a tiny bit in the stockinette sections to fit the proper stitch count.

I feel like it jazzes it up just enough. It mimics the diagonal lines of the upper back lace panel so that it looks harmonious, but not too matchy-matchy.

Or maybe I’m just full of crap and wanted to do something different for no good reason.

Also, no boob stripe!  I diligently switched colors every row to avoid my previous hubris-filled mistake.  And I am proud.

Sadly, tragically, and non-surprisingly, Berroco Mantra Stonewash, the wonderfully drapey silk yarn used here (color 4498 Earth), is fucking discontinued. I do not understand how this keeps happening to almost every single yarn that I fall in love with, but I guess that’s just life.

I did manage to get an order in for one more colorway (4497 Mountain) before the supply seemingly dried up everywhere, but I am desperate to finish this silly nonsense pledge that I made. So, if anyone can find 4 balls of color 4495 Cloud or 4499 River (especially this one, it’s gorgeous!), please drop me a line! Before anyone suggests Ravelry, there’s tons stashed, but no one’s got it listed for sale, probably because they also know that it is such beautiful stuff that they should never let go of it.

It’s just the perfect top to endure the crazy whipping wind on the Pontchartrain Lakefront in, don’t you think?

Spectacular Tentacula

Anybody in the mood for a picture of me grinning because I have made myself a very technically-interesting, but ultimately very silly hat? Yes!

Oh, I am very aware that I am cute. Don’t worry about telling me about it.

This little project started its life as something very different, initially. In late 2020, I got this lovely skein of Quince and Co. Puffin in a holiday yarn trade (color 152 Kumlien’s Gull, for those who need to know [and yes, of course I looked up who Kumlien was {and yes, it has to do with birds}]) with a bunch of crafty friends, but I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I do not knit with bulky yarns very often, and I only had just the one skein with its 112 yards. It had to be a small project that showed off this fluffy loveliness and used as much of the skein as possible. {Anybody else really enjoy all those nested brackets? Me too.)

Last summer, I saw this video from historical maker extraordinare, Morgan Donner, and I had a moment where I knew that this would be the perfect project for my squishy 100% wool Puffin skein. A nålbinding hat! I had never tried nålbinding before, and in my quest to learn everything about all of the fiber crafts, I thought that this would be a fun treat.

I used this great tutorial to help me get started, and this guide for more info about joining in the round. I made a good little go of it after practicing with some scrap yarn. Things were looking good.

And then I just completely lost interest.

Nothing against the craft of nålbinding AT ALL, I am simply just not cut out for it for some reason. I find the hand position difficult to hold comfortably. I had a hard time figuring out where I left off and getting my thumb back in the right configuration if I put it down for any length of time longer than 30 seconds. I find the fact that you can’t quickly “undo” things very hard to deal with, since you’re essentially just tying knots over and over. And the constant splicing since you can only work with a short-ish length of yarn at a time? Oh, this is just not for me, and it was a sad discovery since I really love the way that nålbinding fabric looks.

Back to the drawing board, then. My dinky little coaster-sized attempt sat there on my desk judging me for several months. But then, last month, I was scrolling through Tumblr (if you guys aren’t onto knitting Tumblr, you are seriously missing out), and I saw the loveliest, weirdest hat with the loveliest, weirdest stitch pattern ever.

The Tentacula Hat, dreamed up by the wonderful hat-designer Jenny Noto, contains a stitch pattern that really requires you to trust the process and dig right into your knitting with a spare double-pointed needle since you didn’t feel like getting off the couch to find a crochet hook. Those crazy swoops? Done by drawing out loops from five rows down from your working row, on both sides of your needle. It’s a tricky thing, but it feels like magic when you get it right and the tension is perfect.

It’s pretty nifty, right? The pattern comes with directions to make the hat with four different yarn weights, and the “light super bulky” instructions were perfect for my Puffin, with just the tiniest bit left over.

Now, most people who are making this pattern, and beanies in general, are topping them with super-trendy, elegant, dignified faux fur pom-poms. You know the ones.

Not in this house. Pom-poms aren’t meant for elegance or dignity in here. Pom-poms are supposed to be silly. They are supposed to be big and weird and floppy, and there was no way I was going to pass up the chance to make a big weird silly pom-pom for this awesome hat. I bought the biggest pom-pom maker that I could find.

I wrapped it with the last few yards of the puffin, plus some leftovers from past projects from a million years ago (Filatura di Crosa 127 Print in color 27 Olive Multi, and Noro Kuryeon in color 213), just to add some fun color pops.

BAM. Or rather, POM.

It got a bit of a bath and a trim, but I was (and still am) digging the differing textures in the more unfinished result. It’s sort of a raggedy mess, and it’s exactly what I wanted.

I feel like I need about 18 more of these technically-demanding, yet intensely silly hats for no good reason. Any one else want one? Pom-poms on me?

A Cabled Beast: the Handsome Chris Pullover

Remember that mis-crossed cable from a few months ago? I will probably never forget, but it’s okay if you guys did.

Anyway.

BAM.

Check out that super-sexy-sitting-on-a-rock-in-95-degree-heat-on-the-Lakefront-in-New-Orleans-in-June-in-the-blinding-sun action, while your super-awesome Bob Ross socks steal the show, all for the love of a sweater. I am just that dedicated.

I mean, so good, right?

If anyone is not familiar, let me bring you up to speed. In 2019, a little movie came out called Knives Out that had some of the most wonderful modern costume design in recent memory. It especially charmed knitters and crafters with its proliferation of lovely handknits, in various states of care and disrepair, depending on the character, which leads us to this glory:

I mean, come on. The beauty that is Mr. Christopher Evans (whom, as we all know, I have a completely normal and totally rational undying love for) wearing an obviously lovingly-made and extremely skillfully-designed cabled fisherman’s sweater, complete with the holes and rips that his character, Ransom, would have completely not given two shits about. It’s a masterwork of costuming. The combination of the time-consuming handmade object with the neglect of the spoiled rich brat. So good. Every knitter who saw that movie can’t deny that they felt the profound hurt of seeing those holes, but also a deep, deep envy inside that could only be sated by making that sweater for themselves.

Luckily, an intrepid knitwear designer by the name of Caryn Shaffer took the time to reverse-engineer this cabled beast and put it out free into the the world for everyone to enjoy as the Handsome Chris Pullover pattern. (And I just saw that she has a sock pattern with the same patterning! Hooray!) It’s not a strictly-written pattern, more of a recipe that combines the design elements for different sizes (and it goes all the way up to 3XL, which is awesome) but leaves a lot of the tailoring and persnickety bits up to the maker.

It gives you all of individual cable patterns so that you can mix-and-match them as you like or play around with the spacings to get your perfect size and proportion of scale. It gives suggested lengths, but the repeats are easy enough to keep track of so that you can modify the length as you like, plus with a dropped-shoulder construction, you can easily modify sizing without messing up how the whole thing fits together.

Here are my pattern changes for my short and extremely square body, just in case you are also 5’3″ with linebacker shoulders and a need to have all of your sweaters cover the top half of your substantial rear end:

I used the sizing for the 48″ chest (the size marked as large). I used the cable pattern as written, but I first charted it all out for my size on its own separate graph paper, rather than attempting to switch between all of the printed pages every time the pattern changed.

That way, I had the whole thing transcribed with all of the elements together, and I could use my magnetic chart keeper to keep track of the rows. However, it can still be a little bit tricky due to the fact that each set of cables has a different row repeat (4 vs. 8 vs. 12 rows), but when the repeats were offset, I could use two different sets of magnets to help me.

I changed all ribbing lengths to be only 2″ (which was 14 rows in my personal gauge). I also knit the back to only 24 3/4″ long after 14 center panel repeats (rather than 26″ and 19 repeats, due to the aforementioned shortness and squariness of my personage). That put the neck shaping on the front piece at 21″, at the start of the 13th center panel repeat. Then, with the sleeves, I knit them two-at-a-time and only to 9 center panel repeats, again due to having super short arms. Just a lot of short squariness all around.

The yarn that I used was Knit Picks Wool of the Andes in worsted weight, in the color Fern (23433). With all of my modifications, that ended up being 19 skeins, or a little over 2000 yds. This stuff is heavy-duty, 100% Peruvian wool, ready for all of the cables that you can throw at it. With personal experience with the yarn in the past, I know that it does have the tendency to pill a little bit with extensive wear, but it’s so inexpensive and such a good value for the stitch definition and rustic fisherman sweater feel that you’re getting that it’s totally worth it to give it a little extra love and care now and then.

With this yarn, you can splice the strands together, so that there’s no end weaving-in, which was just a little stroke of genius that I had there. I can’t imagine finishing this and having to weave in the ends from 19 skeins into the cable pattern. I would have crumpled it up and shamed it in a corner until I was mentally ready, probably. Who knows, thought, because I’m so damn smart that I avoided the problem all together. Hooray, conceit!

The cables all blocked beautifully, as we knew they would. Then the seaming started.

And, can I tell you? It just feels really good to line up those cable elements right next to each other so perfectly.

A simple pleasure, but a powerful one.

When I finished the picked-up neckline ribbing, I was so excited I had to run into the bathroom and get a picture right away. And then ripped it off almost immediately because it is so freaking warm that I will no longer need a coat in the wintertime, whatever small amount of winter we have down here.

After it was fully steam-blocked, Dan and I braved the terribly oppressive June sunlight to get some pictures.

Bonus shot of what I look like attempting to gracefully exit the rocks, which you get as a present for making it this far into the post:

I am so proud of myself of sticking with this glorious monster for 4 months.

Cable after cable. Yarn splice after splice. Tender fingertips and the sheer massive weight of the thing on my lap for many, many nights. It was definitely worth it.

SQUARES SQUARES SQUARES

OOOOOOOOOOOHHH. That’s some good square action.

So. In November of 2020, deep into the pandemic doldrums, I may have had a bit of a *falling down* at the Knit Picks annual sale.

Those eagle-eyed among you may notice the fixins for the Rainbow Hue Shift Afghan and my Handsome Chris Pullover (still on the needles, but at least I’m at the sleeves!), but what is up there at the 12 o’clock position? A whole boatload of Brava Worsted in various jewel tones? What on earth could that be for?

Is all that yarn just begging to be knit up in a bunch of small rectangles?

You bet your sweet bippy it was.

(If anyone knows what a sweet bippy is, please feel free to let me know in the comments. It sure is fun to say. Or type, I guess.) (And also, can we talk a little bit about how moss stitch is the greatest and most attractive of the basic knit-purl stitch combos?) (Is this the first time I’ve done consecutive parenthetical statements?)

During the Knit Picks sale, I bought up a whole bunch of Brava Worsted when I noticed that it was less than $2.00 a skein. I thought, what project could I make with a whole boatload of cheap, but nice quality, acrylic yarn? Another blanket? Wait…that reminds me of something. A blanket that I made seven years ago for my brother and sister-in-law, but always wanted one for myself? Yes.

The pattern is the Warm Up America! Afghan by Evie Rosen from the book Knitting for Peace, which I have loved dearly for many, many years. The colors of Brava Worsted are Sky (28451), Tranquil (28454), Tidepool (28453), Peapod (28443), Hunter (28435), Silver (28450), Freesia (28433), and Sienna (28449). I really lucked out that all of these colors look freaking awesome together, in all of their jewel-toned glory, as I was kind of limited in terms of stock by the time I got to the sale.

There are eight different stitch patterns listed in the pattern, so I made one of each with one of each of the eight colors, ending up with a 64-block blanket, rather than the 49-block original. Knitting each square is super portable and simple.

But the finishing…oh, the finishing.

Since each square (and yes, I am aware that they are rectangles, 7″ x 9″ to be exact, but the word ‘rectangle’ is not nearly as fun to say) has slightly different dimensions and behaviors due to the differing stitch patterns, they need to be aggressively steam-blocked to size after the knitting.

Once you get all of these perfect little rectangles…then the sewing begins.

It’s really important for me, for some reason, to make sure that things are random, but that there were no repeats of a stitch pattern in a row, and no duplicate colors next to each other. It’s pretty much impossible to do this without repeating a stitch pattern in a column for this, without making a perfect little diagonal rainbow situation, so there’s two areas in there with stitch patterns too close for my comfort, but we’re all about learning how to let the little things slide around here, right?

I sewed up the columns first, mattress-stitching all of those short ends together.

I mean, purple and turquoise together? Every seam was a joy.

Then, the vertical seams. A daunting task, since it’s really ideal to sew the whole thing in one 6-foot long go. A whole lot of Anne with an E and Degrassi were consumed during this process.

This was the first perfect corner that I experienced during this process. And normally, who cares, right? The edges lined up. Big whoop. But no, this is a real triumph, considering that each block is a completely different number of rows and you need to try to make them match up seven times over the course of the column, using the same strand of yarn for sewing.

I was so delighted whenever this happened, that I took a picture of it nearly every time.

Want to see? Yeah, you do.

Now, some are more perfect than others, but each one is just a microcosm of lovely saturated colors and squishy texture that just makes me so freaking happy to be able to make a blanket, you know?

Like, I can use my hands to make something to keep someone warm. After more than 20 years of knitting, it still blows my mind sometimes.

There were an intimidating amount of ends here. (Do you want the math? Of course you do! 2 per block is 128, then the two each every time I had to change skeins, so 32 more. Then the sewing up is 2 more per short-end join, which is 14 per column, so 112 there. Then two more per column, so 14 more. And the crochet border is 2 more. 128+32+112+14+2 = 288. Dang.) So I kept sewing them in as I went along, doing one column at a time. Also, I did the messiest, half-assed-est job ever because it’s a blanket just for us and the cats, and who gives a shit, really?

The border is three rows of single crochet, just to give it a nice solid finish, plus I wanted to use up as much of the yarn as I could.

This is me wearing it last night right when I was finished. And then today the border got steam-blocked so it could get its glamour shots.

Oh yeah.

I have long subscribed to the theory of juicies and blahs set forth by the good ladies of MDK, but somehow this thing ended up almost all juicies.

And it looks so fucking good.

It’s super fancy neon disco farmland, and it’s all mine.

I feel like I can honestly now say that I am no longer terrified of my sewing machine…the Blue Daisy Apron

I only have a completely normal, healthy level of completely understandable apprehension now, guys! Yay for me!

So I made an apron! And you guys, I am so proud of this dang thing. This is the first thing I’ve sewn that has notions involved.

Notions! (Tiny snaps also involved but not pictured because…I forgot.)

And drafting an actual pattern! On real paper!

Are we tired of exclamation points yet?!

If you’re completely new to the sewing process, please take this tip from me (And I’m pretty sure from Bernadette Banner and Morgan Donner, who I’m 95% sure I stole this from): get yourself a giant cheap roll of wrapping paper with the 1″ grid lines on the back. That way, you don’t need to measure out perfect straight lines or right angles, you just need to be able to count squares. It’s amazing.

I think part of my problem with sewing has been that, unlike knitting, you can’t often jump right into a project once you have your materials (we don’t count the process of making a swatch here, because at least that’s still knitting). You have to do a fair amount of prep work, like washing, drying, and ironing your fabric to make sure it doesn’t warp. And cutting out your paper pieces. And then, somehow (!) having to iron everything again approximately 1000 times over and over again during the whole process. It is a truly disturbing amount of ironing.

I was so determined to get this damn thing right and be patient, so I followed every instruction to the letter. Pattern is the Cook’s Apron from the Liberty Book of Home Sewing, if you’re so inclined. (Apologies for the Am*z*n link, I couldn’t find it on B&N.)

I dutifully measured and pinned and ironed everything to within an inch of my sanity, and do you know what I discovered?

It makes the damn sewing so much freaking easier.

For years (years!), I have sat and wondered why I had such a hard time with sewing. I wondered why I couldn’t hold things in place properly, why my hands and fingers seemed like they weren’t long enough or smart enough to do this, why it seemed so easy for other people? Turns out, people who sew have eleventy-billion tools to help them with the damn sewing for a reason! Who knew?

Now, this is devolving into just a bunch of pictures of things with pins in them and then stitched together no longer with pins in them, but that is mostly because I don’t really have the vocabulary to describe the process here. I’m sure it is super simple for people who know what they’re doing, but for me it felt like a miracle. To make things short and sweet (like me!), you basically are just putting borders onto the sides of a basic apron shape, folding them over and stitching them down almost like the facing to an edge, but doing it backwards, so you end up with these lovely long lines of border with no raw edges anywhere.

I think my very favorite part is that I had the thread loaded the wrong way in the machine, so that the bobbin thread and top thread ended up contrasting with my colors, but I liked the way it looked so much that I left it that way. I really like seeing the stitch lines on the inside, almost like the contrast stitching on denim.

There’s an adjustable D-ring set for the neck tie.

There’s cute beveled edges on the waist ties.

Then, the pièce de résistance:

There’s a little “hand-wiper” towel thing that you can snap on and snap off!

Look at it! In action! With cookie scooping! In progress!

It’s earned a hallowed place alongside my other aprons, for sure. Now, the fabrics I used aren’t super heavy-duty. The pattern calls for twill, which is what my other sturdy workhorse apron is made out of, but I was only able to get plainer thick cotton for this. It’ll be fine for baking and other lighter-type floury things, which is what I’m usually doing anyway. Then I can save my meaty strong apron for things with grease and meat and stuff.

I mean, look how dang happy it makes me. Or maybe it was the cookies. Who knows?

I promise we’ll be back to our regularly-scheduled knitting content soon, but I just had to be excited for a second. I even have a second apron planned, this one with a (gasp) ruffle involved. I know, I know. Gotta dream big.

The Rainbow Hue Shift Afghan

I have lusted over the Knit Picks Hue Shift Afghan kit for years.

Years.

I mean, can you blame me? Can you be a much stronger person than me and resist the allure, the temptation, of all those perfect miter-striped blocks?

All that riotous color vibrating in intensity? So much that the very act of knitting certain squares gives you a headache?

All those diagonal lines fitting themselves in just right?

All of the endless ends to weave in?

Hell yeah, bring it on.

When Knit Picks dropped the price of the kit randomly last year while I was in a particularly vulnerable space of pandemic-based sadness, I knew that I finally had to jump in and make this blanket my reality. It’s knit entirely out of their sport-weight acrylic, Brava, so the idea was that it would actually be a usable blanket in my house, not just something that I made and then hid in a box for fear of evil moth-based death.

I started working on it in January, dutifully knitting away on each block through countless hours of TV…

…and live podcasting events (yay for live TAZ!)…

…and out in the garden. Really, in any place that I could. You see, this blanket is not what I would call difficult at all. Just very, very time-consuming.

It’s separated into 4 blocks, each of 25 squares. Most of the blocks have 2 colors, that alternate every 2 rows, with a centered double-decrease in the middle, leading to those gorgeous diagonal lines in the middle of all that stripey garter stitch goodness. The actual knitting itself is very simple. The real trick lies in being very consistent about how you pick up the stitches for your squares, each time being careful to make the center of your block in the exact same space as the last time.

So, if you’re doing the math, that’s 25 squares with 4 ends of yarn each (for the most part, there are a few little bits where you can carry up your colors, but not many), leaving you with 100 ends to weave in per block.

4 blocks? That’s 400 ends.

It definitely starts to pile up. Then, you need to sew the blocks together, making 2 more ends for each of the 4 seams.

So…408.

It’s a lot.

Plus, when you’re sewing up your blocks, you need to make sure that the stripes all line up perfectly, because you really wouldn’t want to ruin the effect.

I understand that most knitters would have just whip-stitched it up and called it a day, but I stayed the course and mattress-stitched that entire thing row-by-row to make sure that it was fucking perfect.

I was so happy after the sewing up that I grabbed it and wrapped myself up in it and danced around the living room…like one does.

Then comes the border, knit in black, which I had to sometimes use an extra lamp and take my glasses off for, like the proper 39-year-old little old lady that I am.

Seriously, it disappears like Vanta Black against all that color.

So, 2 more ends per border, leaving us with a final total of 416 ends woven in.

Was it all worth it?

Oh god yes.

Just LOOK. AT. IT.

I have never been so proud.

Even the back is pretty!

All joking aside, this really was a gloriously fun thing to make, despite the enormity of it and all of the work involved. I adored nearly every minute of it.

My Knit Picks interchangeable needles might have a bone to pick with me about it though, as this is what doing the exact same stitch all night long for months on DK-weight acrylic can do to laminated birch wood, apparently. I choose to think that it is a representation of my undying love for this damn blanket.

And I am not the only one who likes it.

I do have a bit of a bone to pick with Knit Picks, though.

(And how perfect could a project be if there wasn’t one thing to complain about?) I ran out of 3 different colors before I was finished, but had a boatload left over of other colors. Also, the yarn weight on these particular colors was much heavier than the others, but still labeled as sport-weight despite bordering on light worsted. I’m pretty sure that the heavier weight made it so the skeins themselves (the yardage of which is based on weight) just didn’t have enough yardage, so I had to scrounge on Ravelry for extra skeins in the same dye lot, which isn’t always achievable and really threw off my whole perfection vibe with this one.

A quick glance through Ravelry made it clear that I wasn’t the only knitter with this problem, and it was very variable which skeins ran out, leading me to think that this is more of a quality control issue than anything. I know that my gauge was spot-on, so the frustration was definitely there.

But, how can you stay mad at a beautiful thing like that? Impossible, really.

Summer-Autumntime Catch-Up Time: the Rio Calina Cowl

It felt silly to title the post with Summertime since we are getting down into proper Fall here, and this project just screams fall to me, even though I made it when it was 95 degrees out with 100% humidity most of the time.

I mean, just hit me right in the face with that tree bark goodness.

I, like every other knitter in the world, have a deep, deep love for Cat Bordhi. I did not make any of her projects for myself, but when I taught knitting and worked in a yarn shop, I helped countless others to understand her genius so that they could have their very own bizarre and wonderful project.

Cat Bordhi specialized in making seemingly impossible shapes possible. Her instructions resulted in mobius scarves springing forth fully formed from your needles without the need for sewing, ingenious folds added to hoods, cowls, sweaters, and vests that gave them elegant drape and superior function, and socks made two-at-a-time on a crazy-long circular needle. These project exude cleverness and it always made me smile when someone came to me with a Cat-Bordhi-based question, because I knew I’d be having all kinds of fun for the next 30 minutes as I decoded her brilliance for another new knitter.

Cat Bordhi passed away last year, and she left a free pattern for everyone to remember her by: the Rio Calina Cowl.

In this meditative bit of knitting, the only rule is to not think too hard. Cat instructs the knitter to establish a base ribbing pattern, how to make a cable in this pattern, and then to just cable whenever the mood strikes you.

There is no rhyme or reason, there is no repeatable rhythm. Just flow.

I tried not to impose any structure on myself whatsoever, just let the project be whatever it wanted to be. I loved watching the swirls and eddies of the cables turn into a gnarled tree trunk, and I loved tracing out the individual paths that each line took on its way through the process.

The yarn I chose for this is a super basic, tried and true woolen workhorse, Patons Classic Wool Worsted, letting it be elevated by the process itself. (Colorway is 00225 Dark Gray Mix, if you’re interested in those things.) I didn’t really pay much attention to the dimensions listed on the pattern either, just knitted until I ran out of yarn.

Another part of this pattern’s genius comes in the finishing. This long rectangle gets turned in on itself and sewn together into a spiraling tube.

Then, when it is draped and worn, it flops over like a nautilus shell, showing both the cables and the reverse side in a flattering asymmetrical shape.

That Cat Bordhi. She really knew what she was doing. She never seemed to take knitting too seriously, and her patterns often read like a friend teaching you how to do something new. But at the same time, her inventive shapes and techniques raised knitting to a higher art form, making everyday makers of things feel just as clever as she was.

It is bittersweet that this is the first of her projects that I have ever made for myself, but I will think of her every time I wear it and try to live in the meditative space that she put me in while I was making it, which is hard when your brain is constantly going a thousand different directions like mine. Just a tiny bit of mindfulness and warmth on a fall day is sometimes all you need to keep going. Let the cables carry you.

So Much Color – Bayou Shamrock Socks

For some reason, this March has been a flood of much more color than I am used to.

Green, mostly.

Particularly this electric neon green has been sneaking its way into everything good recently, including some lovely socks that I made for my boyfriend’s brother.

Just. Ugh. So good. So green.

The yarn here is just a complete showstopper, and I was absolutely delighted to find out that it’s made by a local dyer. Cat Tails Yarn hails from Covington, LA, and every single colorway is just simply insanely beautiful. I just don’t even understand how there are so many shades of green and brown and rust and yellow in here, space-dyed (I assume?) but never doing any weird spiraling or pooling or flashing somehow. The base is Korat, and the colorway is Irish Channel, part of the Going Down the Bayou collection, hence my clever name of Bayou Shamrock Socks. The fact that I made them right up next to St. Patrick’s Day was just an added bonus.

The pattern is the good, plain sock recipe from Stephanie Pearl-McPhee, if it wasn’t super obvious as my absolute favorite and most-repeated pattern of all time.

To make a size US men’s 10 sock, I cast on 66 sts and did a 3×3 ribbing, splitting it in half to keep the ribs centered going down the instep.

I was just messing around a bit and decided to carry the ribbing all the way down to the toes, just to see what it would be like, and I’m super pleased with it. I think it makes them look more professional, like dress socks? Not sure why, but it was a fun experiment. (Gotta get my continuing sockpocalypse kicks somehow, I guess.)

Slip-stitch heels, obvi.

Ryan is lucky that these socks were a little too big for me, because the temptation to steal them was great. They look like a neon green flower bed that I want to fall face forward into.

Like sunshine and lemonade.

Like hope and springtime.  Fingers crossed.

Thankful for Pie – Inevitable 2020 Bright-Side Edition

Well, we knew we’d be here soon, right? Trying to find the bright side of this utter garbage situation of a year?

I’ll be honest, I didn’t have high hopes going through my photos this year, thinking that there wasn’t going to be much for my to post. But, as usual, my inner grump was definitely overshadowing the brighter bits. And one of the brighter bits this year…as always…was pie.

I mean, could we even have doubted it?

Just baked goods in general, really.

There is no way that I am not honest enough with myself to admit that baking and cooking were a large part of my ability to make it through this year.

Because when everything seems completely out of your control, doing something, however small, that makes you feel slightly productive and useful and moderately talented? Well, that’s the best feeling you could hope for.

So, along with our own gardening, and a little assist from our favorite farm at Grow Dat, Dan and I scraped together the trappings of a normal life for ourselves when we could.

I even baked cookies and Express-mailed them to my best friend in California. Like you do.

We listened to so much vinyl, and mourned lost heroes.

We ate lots of dinners outside.

We grew flowers.

And obscenely large zucchini.

We played catch and watched a lot of sunsets.

We cooked more than we ever have before.

We puzzled.

We loved up on our precious cat babies.

And each other.

We wore masks. (Courtesy of the always amazing Carlaesthetics.)

We made friends.

I started myself on a minor stationery and fountain pen obsession.

I learned how to can, and started pickling nearly everything in sight.

Throughout all of this cooking and baking and canning and loving each other nonsense, there were two other things that I did. Number one?

I graduated with my Doctorate of Nursing Practice Degree, successfully defending my scholarly project on Zoom. I’ve also since presented my DNP project at two separate local nursing conferences, and I was accepted to do a poster presentation at the Society of Pediatric Nurses at their annual conference in April.

After graduating, I studied my ass off for one last time.

And I passed my AANP FNP exam with room to spare.

I’ve been working as an NP in a school-based clinic system since the end of October, so my days look a little bit more like this now. COVID testing has become a major life skill.

The other main storyline, you ask?

KNITTING.

Just kidding! I didn’t make these, but I did buy the pattern book because it was only $1.50, and it is GLORIOUS.

This has been, hands-down, the most productive knitting year of my entire life, and instead of analyzing the reasons for that too hard (depression, pandemic, unemployment, blah blah blah), let’s just revel in the good shit, yes? The Stacy Pullover, which I recently got a chance to wear for the first time around Christmas, and it was just as perfect as it could be.

Then came the Sockpocalypse! Here’s all ten pairs, right in a row: Waving Lace Socks.

Go with the Flow Socks.

Hot Tiki Flamingo Ribs (arguably the ones with the best name).

Shadow Braid Socks.

Mountain Retro Ribs.

Yarn Chicken Pomatomus (definitely the knitterliest, and the ones with the best story).

Mirkwood Socks.

Raspberry Latte Lace.

Earthbound (my first ever foray into toe-up sock knitting!).

And finally, the Finale Helix Socks.

And because my friends are some of the very best people in the world, I got sent back a lot of love and very sweet presents from Sockpocalypse recipients. I choose to interpret these as hugs from far away, and they definitely kept me going when seeing my friends was simply not an option.

But wait, the knitting’s not over yet! I finally finished up some long-forgotten UFOs from the past. The Scotland Silk Felt Scarf.

And the 776-Weekend Lace-Edge Pillowcases, which had eluded me for 12 and 15 years respectively.

I fixed a lot of things that needed fixing.

I stress-knitted a beret because a hurricane — actually, many hurricanes were coming.

I made myself the craft room of my dreams and tried to inhabit, however ineptly, my grandmother’s shadow.

I made the most adorable sweater and panda set for the best baby around.

And because I wasn’t nearly satisfied enough with the Sockpocalypse, apparently, I made SEVEN MORE PAIRS pairs of socks and slippers.

Because I am a maniac. (Honeycomb Socks and Holiday Family Mukluks, of course.)

I am being absolutely serious when I say that knitting saved my life this year. Whenever I felt like a completely useless human, which was pretty much always, I could at least tell myself that I was always making something. Maybe not the most important thing or the most beautiful thing, but I was making something that would be able to bring just a little bit of light and happiness and warmth into someone else’s life. And although those contributions were small, they made me feel like I had a purpose when I was adrift.

I’m not going to pretend that I don’t still feel that way. Even though school is done and I found a job, and I’m making my tiny mark in helping people during this utterly shit situation, I still feel empty and rudderless most of the time. I think that after so much death and loss of hope, it’s only normal to feel numb, isn’t it?

But, with that sentiment comes the very true and honest wish that I have that we will all take this time to build a new year for ourselves that’s filled with a little more kindness, a little more insight, a little more responsibility to each other. A little more light-bringing and a little less selfishness. And a whole lot more knitting.