Ruthless Knitting

Since that last post was a bit of a downer, I thought I’d share something more positive. Last weekend, I went to a baby shower in Chicago, and my aunt Cathy gave me my grandmother Thelma’s knitting journals. She used these journals to list, in brief, everything she knit in a given month, who she made it for, and, sometimes, what size she made. Here’s what she knit in the spring of 1978, thirty years ago:

March - 1 pr gloves (Jack); Nan’s Vest - Lulu; Jim’s Afghan - started in Jan.; sweater (1) Sue Kane

April - sweater - Cathy H.; sweater (Thelma) 

May - Sweater (2-3) Bertha; dress (2-3) Linda; sweater (1) Darlene Karla

So in the space of three months, she finished an afghan and made a pair of gloves, a vest, five sweaters (two sized for babies), and a baby dress. Only one of those items was for her. Is that amazing or what?

Just for fun, I’m going to adjust my sidebar a bit and add a list that will change each month of what my grandmother was knitting in that month in some earlier year. I hope you’ll find it fun and inspiring!

I haven’t been getting too much knitting done lately, and what I have been knitting is Top Secret, which has left me with not much to post about.

Also, it snowed last night. The tulips are coming up, which is some compensation, but still — snow in April? Can we get a break here?

In good news, the cedar chest I ordered from Harmony Cedar arrived last night, and this morning David and I moved it into the bedroom and packed it full of sweaters. Isn’t it pretty?

I’ve been saving money to buy this chest since November, and I finally had enough pennies hoarded to order it about three weeks ago. The exterior is made from cherry, and the interior is cedar-lined.

Prior to the arrival of the chest, I kept my sweaters on the shelves of our closet in cloth bins. Every time I wanted a sweater, which was every day between November and March, I had to pull down the bins from the shelves, and inevitably at least one sweater would fall out and land on my head. This is  most certainly a change for the better.

Thank you for the many kind comments on my Tokyo top! I don’t think I’ve ever had so many comments before. I told my mother that I thought some of you were motivated to comment not only by the fact that you liked the top but also by your surprise that you liked it. It seems that not everyone was fully convinced of the wisdom of my reviving the eighties in variegated silk/wool. But that’s alright — truth be told, neither was I.

I wore the top to a wedding this weekend, and it performed quite admirably. (Also, I found out that my aunt Marty reads my blog when I walked into the reception and she said, "I know that sweater!" I love it when I find out that someone has been reading without my knowledge. Hi, Marty!) I’ve started working on the pattern already, and I hope to have it done in a week or so.

In other news, I’ve been meaning for quite some time to write a post about the You Make My Day award, which has been tearing through Knit Blog Land for the past few weeks. The award was kindly bestowed upon me by the proprietresses of Pipe Dreams and Purling Plans, Desiknitter, ScarletKnitter, LookingGlassKnits, and DrunkenMonkeyKnits. My Fana pullover also recently received a wonderful tribute from the Independent Stitch. I’m chuffed that so many of you have singled me out for praise.

Even though I’m a bit late to join the party, I want to share a few of the blogs that I enjoy, since I have enjoyed following other people’s links to discover new sites. I’ll leave off those people who nominated me, though I do really enjoy all of their blogs and encourage you to check them out.

Here are eight knitting and non-knitting blogs that I read faithfully:

Green Apples. Stitchywitch churns out vast numbers of beautiful and fashionable sweaters, and she also likes to swatch as much as I do. A great site for indulging one’s knitting fantasy life.

Ask Moxie. I don’t have any children, but I do like to read about parenting. Moxie writes a parenting advice column that is eminently sensible, empathetic, and interesting.

Elliphantom and My Fashionable Life. These are two of my favorite knitting sites. Neither Elli nor Anna posts as often as they used to, but I always get a little thrill when they do. I love their aesthetics, their humor, and their finished pieces.

Smartypants. Smartypants has been writing rambling, idiosyncratic, analytical posts from Chicago for years, and she always makes me smile. I love the Nora stories and the reports of adventures with public transportation.

The Needle and the Damage Done. This is the Internet home of Faith, who podcasts as the Knitting Cook. I appreciate her recipes, her knitting updates, and her can-do attitude. Also, sometimes I’d like to scoop her up and give her a little vacation, as she’s raising three little kids as an American in Germany while also somehow managing to spin and knit and cook.

Shapely Prose. Kate Harding writes thoughtful and frequently fascinating posts about fat acceptance and disordered eating in American culture.

The Yarn Harlot. I like Stephanie because she’s funny, but even more so because she’s a clever and interesting feminist writer who occasionally can’t keep herself from stirring up a little tempest with a good old-fashioned (but good-humored) tirade.

In knitting news, I expect to finish the second Bird in Hand mitten soon. I would have finished it over the weekend, but I only had the thumb left to do right before I left for a trip, and I didn’t think it would make good airplane knitting. Instead, I started the Kinari cardigan (about which you know nothing), and I’ve managed to get through the first four inches or so. I’ll try to do a proper introduction to that project later this week.

In honor of today’s third annual bloggers’ silent poetry reading, here is a poem by my very talented friend Chuck Rybak. It is drawn from his collection Tongue and Groove, which is currently available from Main Street Rag Publishing Company.

"Tongue and Groove"

I

The hardwood floor, laid yesterday

and fit for sanding, waits to be smoothed,

walkable in bare feet. The worker,

machine firing, bickers on his phone

with a woman, a brutal battle drawn

through the dark and resumed this dawn.

You disrespected me, he says.

He’s kept curses in reserve, hopes to hurl them

while working — the sander drowns him out,

drowns her out, overwhelms their shouts

and he hates repeating

his rage. I can’t hear you,

he yells. Then only the sander speaks,

smoothing things over.

II.

Arguing and installation — tongue and groove.

The boards, pounded into place

the day before, forged a rhythm of roar

and curse and heavy-metal music.

Armed with a mallet, he wed

each word and plank with a blow:

You   stupid   crappy   wood

Why   won’t   you   fit?

Then, as if he were a member

of the band, he’d resume a verse

or melody, mid-line, banging along

with Black Sabbath. In the quiet

that followed, he mentioned his three daughters

and I imagined their daily rush from the door,

the leaps that snag their collars and sleeves

on his thorny tattoos. They swing there,

welcoming him home again.

III.

Then there’s the wood, reclaimed

barn wood, the pine of old farms,

marked by hoof and horn, hail and blade,

by a summer of drought, drink, and punch,

by a kicking calf and her mother stiff

with milk fever. The worker

glosses these scars as "rustic," revels

in the spacing, the random width –

no option for a uniform look,

no pick of consistency. After the seal,

the soak and shine of polyurethane,

my barefoot wife and I walk the floor

of what will be a child’s room.

We kneel and read the knots and grooves,

run our fingers with the grain, observe,

Here is the anger that marked the wood.

Here is the love that smoothed it.