Jumper Tragedy

Cast on 378 stitches..... this should have been my first warning.  I mean, my bum may be big, but it's not that big.  But, I told myself, it's light yarn, and the jumper (sweater) is knit all in once piece, and it's loose and flarey at the bottom.

So I kept knitting.  I was suspicious though.... Those 378 stitches per row were eating though the yarn so fast I was only getting around 5 rows to the ball.  And my jumper quickly started getting heavy, too heavy.  But because it was knit all in one piece, scrunched up on the needles, it was hard to get an accurate idea of how big it was.  So I gave it the benefit of the doubt and kept on knitting...for over a year.

By the time I got to the shoulders (this jumper was knit from the bottom up) I was ready to cast off and try it on.  I knew it wasn't going to end well.  In desperation I tried some fierce blocking, but I kew it wasn't going to work.  I put the still sleeveless jumper on.... and discovered I could wrap it around myself twice.  I had a think, what to do, what to do?

The jumper was made out of bamboo fibre, so there was no chance of felting it down to size, and because it was knit all in one piece I couldn't just reknit one or two particularly ill-fitting sections, it was all or nothing. 

So I had two choices.  I could either befriend a small elephant with good dress sense, and give them the jumper, or I could frog it all and start again.  My partner watched the trying-on process with apprehension, sure that seeing a year's worth of knitting going down the drain would upset me, but I was unfazed.  No really.

You see, not only had I long suspected there were problems with my jumper (and yes, I should have taken it off the stitches to have a look much earlier), but I understand that knitting is a process. A process that doesn't always produce exactly what you expect.  The way I saw it I could either keep my ill-fitting jumper, or I could unravel it and turn it into a bag full of yarn.  Looked at this way there was really no choice.  I love yarn, and I love yarn much more than bad jumpers.  The yarn I had bought for the project is beautiful, and now I'll be lucky enough to knit it twice. I don't feel ready to turn it back into a jumper just yet, so my question to you, faithful readers, is this: What shall I knit with 14 balls of beautiful sky blue 8ply bamboo yarn?

Does Your Cat Knit?

Knitters are a passionate lot.  We love to spread the love of our craft.  But there is a whole new population out there just ripe for conversion, our pets.  Today I will explore that age old question: How can you tell if your cat is a knitter?

Now spotting a knitting cat is harder than it looks because all cats love yarn, but a true knitting cat respects the yarn.  He won't chase, chew or otherwise abuse yarn (unless you roll up a special ball of leftovers specifically for him to play with).  A true knitting cat, like my friend's cat Hildegaard, will happily sit on their owner's lap during knitting, watching the clicking of the needles but leaving the yarn unmolested.

Our cat Gus started showing signs of knitting at an early age.  Here he is as a kitten enjoying the company of a sheepskin, showing an early love of wool (for those of you that know him, that's Sheepy III):

As he got older, Gus' knitting tendencies became more obvious.  He never wrestles random balls of yarn, but has developed a habit of lying, fast asleep, with his front paws in my knitting bag, enjoying the feel of the yarn.  He seems particularly fond of alpaca, possibly inspired by the two alpacas who live down the road.  He also enjoys sitting on clean jumpers (sweaters) which are being blocked and dried near the heater.  He tells me that he is adding a vital layer of tabby fur before the piece is finished, but I suspect that's just an excuse.

I'm glad that Gus has found a creative outlet in knitting, as his older brother Gummy is a well known sculptor.  You may be familiar with his installations, Scratching Post of Joy (below, pictured with the artist), Muddy Foot Prints in the Bath, Death to the Old Brown Couch and of course his famous performance art piece Solo Wrestlemania in the Sandpile.

So keep your eyes open and you may discover hidden talents in your pets.  You might have a dancing canary, a singing goldfish or a crocheting puppy in your lounge room right now.

The Fine Art of Horizontal Knitting

I haven't had a chance to post in a while.  It's not because I'm lazy, I've been recovering from surgery and I still have another operation to go.  The upside is that I've gotten a lot of knitting done.  I knitted in pre-op, I knitted in recovery  and I've pretty much been knitting constantly since.

Since I did virtually all of this knitting in my preferred position, horizontal, I thought this might be a good time to offer readers some handy hints about reclining knitting.  Whether you have a disability, an injury, or just need a good lie down, these tips may help you on your way.

Everyone's physical limitations are different, even able-bods, so you may have to modify some of my advice for your own personal needs.  All my limbs function at pretty much the same standard, I don't have a particular dodgy arm as such.  Instead I have fairly generalised pain, muscle weakness and spasms through-out my body.  Generally the closer to horizontal I am, and the less weight I have to carry, the happier I am.  So with this in mind, here are a few hints about getting started as a reclining knitter.

To begin with, the playing surface needs to be right.  Knitting while lying completely flat is more tiring than it looks.  Your hands are above you and taking all the weight of your project and at the same time your circulation has to work uphill to get the blood to your fingers.  Instead, boost yourself up on pillows so that you are halfway between sitting and lying down, but with the weight of your head and shoulders taken by the cushions.  In this position you may also be more comfortable with an extra pillow under your knees to stop your legs from being splayed out straight.

The correct reclining knitting position should allow you to knit with your forearms resting on the sides of your belly, with the needles just below eye height.  In this position you can also distribute the weight of your project over your torso, instead of just on just your hands, great for sore wrists.

When knitting in a seated position it's normal to have the completed section of your knitting hanging down below the needles, putting the entire weight of the project on your wrists and hands.  When I started lying down to knit my first instinct was to have my project below the needles, spreading down over my legs.  I quickly found that this was inconvenient because as I knitted there was no gravity to drag my garment with it, leaving it all bunched up on my tummy.  Instead I prefer to do an Isadora Duncan and throw my project over my shoulder, so that most of the project sits on my shoulders and behind me.  This weight distribution also allows me to tackle larger projects than I normally do.  Because my arms and hands aren't very strong (despite the drumming) I use to limit myself to small, light projects, but as you can see in the photo, if I'm reclining I can knit a whole jumper (sweater) in one piece without damaging myself.

Needle choice can also effect your ability to knit lying down.  I've found if the needles are too long, they get tangled in my armpits and the ball of yarn which usually sits at my side.  Too short and they get stuck in my sleeves as I knit.  While it is possible to use straight needles, I usually prefer using circulars as they don't get in the way and they distribute the weight of the knitting evenly between your hands.

With these handy tips in mind, I hope you'll get plenty of knitting done next time you're laid up in bed.