Bad people. Just bad.

Can I talk for a moment about Webs?

Webs is.... hmmm. How can I describe it? For starters, I'm pretty sure it's the exact center of the yarnish universe. It's huge. And it has EVERYTHING. If it's not at Webs, it doesn't exist. And I'm pretty sure they have some sort of subliminal mood control spray or something 'cause the place plays merry hell with my torturously built-up immunity to most commercially spun yarn. Believe this: If you go in with the intention of spending $10, you will walk out having spent $100. You have been warned.

They even have their own exclusive yarns. Let's talk about the 2/14 laceweight alpaca silk on cones.

Now, on the list of Webs Crimes Against Me, development of this yarn ranks very very high. Why on earth did they come out with such a luscious, irresisitible yarn? Surely they know I am powerless to resist. It's one of the more wonderful weaving yarns I've come across and if I decide to stop dithering and take the plunge on MS3, the alpaca silk is what will be used.

It has recently come to my attention that they have introduced new colors. There's a picture of one of them, Raspberry, up top, swiped from their web site. I have all the old colors and thought my life was good. Now I know that is just not true and that my life is really shit and that it will continue to be so until I have in my possession at least one cone apiece of all the new colors.

Someone must stop these people before they do this again.

My boring life

I'm rifling through my brain for something entertaining to write about. After the excitement of Wild Apple Bohus showing up, the breathless retrieval from the post office, the fondling, the petting, the ogling ... well, honestly, all that probably wasn't terribly exciting to anyone but me, and everything else I have to write about will only highlight the fact that I'm abysmally dull.

My knitting right now is, well, boring. Still plonking away at the gajillion miles of green stockinette on Forest Darkness, still dithering about MS3. Working on a pair of handspun boot socks destined for hubby that are so completely devoid of ornamentation they should be in a dictionary under "stifling." Spinning some commercial top for the Guy Sweater. Turned the heels on the Monkey socks a couple of weeks ago, then stuffed them in a bag in favor of Bohussing. At least I feel guilty about it.

However, there are a few bright points on my small horizon. I have signed up for CLASSES.

Those of you who know me, know that I am not a take-a-class sort of knitter. In general, I'm far too antisocial and odd to be suitable for public viewing. (This is a bold statement, especially when we're talking knitters, but I stand behind it.) In fact, I am, up to this point, entirely self-taught. No classes. Not one. So how now have I found myself signed up for FOUR?

In general, my preferred method of learning is this: Buy the book. Read it. Mull. Try the technique suggested. Beat my head bloody for a few days or weeks until I get it figured out. (I seem to enjoy this part.)

So far this method has worked well for me. My forehead is curiously shaped, but other than that, no worries.

Here's the problem: I've run out of two things. Courage. And books.

The first class I'm taking is in late August. It's a two-day Fair Isle workshop taught by Beth Brown-Reinsel at Margaret Klein Wilson's farm. Beth wrote the (absolutely fantastic and highly recommended) book "Knitting Ganseys," and she's working on another one, "Knitting Scandinavian Sweaters."

I signed up for this class mostly because I am a coward: I have never cut a steek.

The mere thought of cutting into a perfectly good piece of knitting is enough to send me searching for a stiff snort of Scotch. Or a Valium. Or both. We need not speak of it. I figure the only way I'm going to learn is by exposing myself to devastating levels of peer pressure. Can't let all the other happy little scissors-wielding knitters in these parts know what a complete stinking wuss I am, right? So. This will work.

The second and third classes are in September, at Webs. Susanna Hansson, the woman who translates Solveig's Bohus patterns into English, is teaching a one-day class on Bohus techniques. Now, I do already have "Poems of Color." And I may have mentioned I am already knitting a Bohus, with two more to come. (Note to Lisa: Yes, you've mentioned it. About five thousand times. Shut up already.) But my theory is that there are probably a good many tricky little squibs of information about all things Bohus that Wendy Keele might not have gotten around to writing about.

(That is a very good justification, and I'm happy with it. But the real reason I'm taking that class is to ogle her collection of authentic vintage Bohus sweaters.)

Susanna is also teaching a class on "The Mittens From Rovaniemi." Check out the very top photo, which I stole from Susanna's web site. These mittens are constructed using ten or eleven separate yarn colors, teensy wee needles, and a fiendishly difficult intarsia-in-the-round technique which is apparently not in any English-language book, anywhere. At least not that I can find. Sensing a really, really good opportunity to beat my head bloody against a wall, I signed up for that one immediately.

The fourth class is a five-day workshop titled "Designing in the Bohus Tradition" taught by Donna Kay at the Harrisville Knitting and Weaving Center in October. As mentioned, I already have the definitive Bohus book. It contains much interesting information and history. But no design or color theory, and as far as I can tell there is no book that covers this. Since one of my long-term goals is to spin, dye, design and knit my own version of a Bohus, and since I'm not colorblind but I am color-stupid, that seemed like a really good idea.

(Another worthy justification. But if we're being honest, there is another factor at work: I'm in a bit of a snit over not getting to hike the Long Trail and figured this would be an acceptable substitute.)

So. We'll see if I can overcome my completely unforced ability to be eccentric, hermitish and cranky. Knitters are in general a kind and gentle lot, but after 20 years in journalism I find those qualities odd and mildly suspicious. Also, knitters often do not swear, at least not loudly, and I am rather fond of same. Put me in a room with knitters who are also longshoremen and I'd probably be quite happy.

I'll let y'all know how it goes.

I'm not worthy, I'm not worthy!

It's here! Wild Apple is here! O frabjuous day!

The post office guy actually called and told me when it came in (I love that guy). I raced down, got there exactly three minutes before they closed, and ripped into that package like a weasel rips through chicken wire.

Dudes. What can I tell you. The pictures I posted? They don't even come close to capturing the the real thing. The colors are ... well... I'm having trouble coming up with a word that isn't totally hackneyed. If you could melt down emeralds and rubies and all sorts of precious brilliant stones and turn them into meltingly soft yarn, this Bohus is what you'd have.

I am so not worthy of owning something this beautiful. Well, I guess the fact that I have a working Mastercard makes me worthy enough, but still... I am not worthy.

Gotta go. Much ogling and fondling to be done.

To MS3, or not to MS3, that is the question

Temptation lurks everywhere. That stinking thing is all over the internet. I can't turn on a browser without reading about clue this and clue that and shiny wee beads and 2/14 alpaca/silk on cones.

I see pictures of stoles-in-progress. Me likee. See the beads? Shiny!

I am signed up. I have clues 1-3 in my hands, and clue 4 is only a download away. My stash contains appropriate yarn and the perfect matching beads. (If we're telling honest truths here, there's not much my stash does not contain, but that is something we need not speak of.) The correct needles are mere feet away. No purchase necessary. I even went so far as to make a tiny mite of a swatch.

And we loves us some lace knitting, we do. We really, really do.

But here's the rub. I am a happy little lace knitter, but I am not a girly girl. I could quite contentedly knit lace all day, every day, pretty much forever, but (except for the occasional random pair of girly socks, easily hidden under jeans) I do not WEAR lace.

So, here we have the problem. Do I really love it THAT much, that I want to devote weeks or months to it, knowing full well that the end result will be something that is draped artfully over the back of the sofa and rarely worn?

Well, yes.

But. There are many projects, all worthy, all demanding my attention. Forest Darkness wants finishing. Blue Shimmer wants beginning. Wild Apple... well, it just wants to arrive safely, have a bit of a rest from its long journey, and be fondled and petted and admired for awhile, but the handspun Guy Sweater is not going to be so patient, and neither is the Dale.

Dither, dither. Dudes, I really want to make this stole. From what I've seen so far, it is gorgeous. There doesn't seem to be anything hideously complex about it. And it does have those pretty shiny baubles, 'cause ya know, mere gorgeous lace knitting might not be quite enough temptation all on its own. Add a few sparklies, just to increase the oozing dripping lust factor...

This could lead me down an interesting rabbit hole of self-examination if I let it. There's clearly a divide between who I am and who I think I am. Or maybe I know who I am, but secretly long to be someone else. Does lace knitting satisfy some inner diva gene that I am not consciously aware I posess?

Must. Resist.

The most likely thing that will happen to me today does NOT involve Prince Charming showing up at my doorstep and saying, "Yes, yes, you are the one I want. I took one look at your stole pattern and was smitten." Problems with that scenario are abundant and do not end with the fact that I already have a quite acceptable husband.

More likely, the way the day will play out is this: The hens will escape from the pen and I'll spend a half hour wading through mud and chickenshit to round 'em up, the little hussies. Perhaps you can see why my life does not lend itself to abundant lace-wearing.

Must. Resist.

Greed, avarice, lust

Wild Apple is due to show up at my post office any day. Anystinkingdaynow. Yesterday would really not have been too soon. Today would have been acceptable as well. Tomorrow would be fine. Much more than that and the giant spiders are going to start crawling on the walls.

The good folk at my tiny local post office are getting tired of me, I'm sure. I have checked our box twice today, and will probably do so again tomorrow. It's OK, though, they already know we're kinda strange. Most of the boxes we've received in the last three months have either been from Sweden, or have contained live poultry. That's an odd combination even by postal standards.

We got 25 more peeps about a week ago. The post office guy called at 6:30 a.m. to let us know they were there and that we could come get them right away. He doesn't officially open until 8:30 a.m. but will make an exception for chickens.

So honey gets to the post office, and has this conversation:

Post office guy: They don't like the Four Tops.

Hubby: Hmmmm.

POG: And they HATE Vermont Public Radio.

H: That could be a problem.

POG: But they really seem to like Smokey Robinson.

Now I don't know about you but this is one reason I like Vermont - in what other location will federal officials help you determine the musical tastes of your day-old chickens?

However, I digress.

Back to Bohus. Should we have a sing-along? "An-ti-ci-pation, anticipay-yay-shun, it's making me wait...."

Eh, perhaps not. Chickens don't like karaoke.

I haven't anticipated a package this much since I was four and just knew there was a pony in that big shiny box. Yeesh. This avarice is quite unattractive. And yet I can't say I am remorseful.

Wild Apple is my personal little mystical knitting Mecca - the trip I have dreamed of taking, but never thought would actually come to fruition. To have it suddenly within my grasp is, um, exciting.

Up top there is a random picture of what I assume is a finished Kimmet Croft Wild Apple. I swiped it off someone else's web site and now I can't figure out where I found it, so my most sincere apologies for not giving proper credit.

The KC version has been available for some time now. It is lovely. Marvelous, really. And I have occasionally considered getting it. But I really wanted the fine, fine detail of the original sweaters.

The image on the right is a vintage Bohus (pic swiped from Poems of Color).

Note the slight differences in the colors between it and the KC version. The KC version is a worthy sweater ... but I'm glad I waited for Solveig.

As I've said in previous blog entries, I have no intention of starting Wild Apple until both Forest Darkness and Blue Shimmer are done. My most vivid fantasies right now involve simple fondling of the skeins, not actual construction. Which makes my incredible stinking greed for this kit doubly inexplicable. The only even halfway good rationalization I can come up with at the moment is that Imusthaveitrightnowdammitnownownow because it's possible that Solveig might decide to retire (shudder!) and then there will be no more kits and then I. Will. Just. Die. So I had to get it, right? I had to.

In other news: My undyed yarn finally showed up from the not-terribly-service-oriented supplier. I need to get some skeins painted and send them off to their new homes.

I was hoping to have some up on Etsy shortly but hubby took the camera. He's off hiking the Long Trail with our 15-year-old. I really wanted to go, but I wasn't invited, and anyway, someone has to stay home and take care of the chickens.

Addendum: Ah, mystery solved. The top picture is from The Rainey Sisters blog. If you haven't read their postings, well, you should. They're funny and smart and almost as freaky about fiber as me.

In which the Bo' Ho does a dumb thing

I am an idiot. That much is clear. As much as I would like to think that I am clever and crafty and generally above making the stoopid mistakes I should have grown out of long ago in my knitterly career... well, no, not so much.

Previously I may have mentioned that I am knitting Forest Darkness. (Actually, if truth be told, I may have previously frothed at the mouth, compulsively yammered, and blathered to the point of mindlessness, but we need not speak of that.)

A quick recap: I knit the collar ribbing on Addi Turbo circs, US size 0. Switched over to US 2 for the color work. I tend to knit tight on color work, so the 2s, though bigger than the recommended needle size, were just ducky.

I also knit tightish when plonking away on the flat. Any time there is purling involved, I tighten up. Anyway. The 2s were not too hot, not too cold - they were juuuuust right.

So I come to the end of the flat parts and join 'em up. And knit away. Without changing needles. While knowing full well that, when freed from the tyranny of the purl stitch, I knit BIG.

Within slightly more than an inch it became apparent that I was not knitting a Bohus, I was knitting a very attractive, very well-designed... tent.

Deep breath. OK, at least I wasn't six inches into it. Only an inch.

Still. An inch of Bohus knitting is, well, a shitload of knitting. Let's do the math:

390 stitches per round x 10 rounds = 3900 stitches to rip out and reknit. I have knit entire afghans that probably contained fewer stitches than this one stinking inch of Bohus. (There was an unfortunate big-needle phase... I was young, I was foolish, what can I say... )

Being somewhat good at denial, avoidance, and procrastination, I decided to do nothing for a day. Somewhere in the back of my mind I really really believed that maybe if I just ignored the problem, the teeny tiny knitting fairies would come and fix it overnight.

They didn't, the rotten stinking little ingrates.

So I cursed and shook my fist and muttered terrible dark things. I had wild escapist fantasies in which blocking cured all. I thought about it obsessively, then I refused to think about it at all.

I remeasured four or five times. Oddly, nothing much changed. So last night, I grit my teeth, put on my big girl panties, and...

...ripped.

Spent a good hour counting and recounting the tiny picked-up stitches. Insecurities 'R' Us, ya know? Then knit back to more or less where I was before the Great Ripfest. So, basically, I spent all evening working and have absolutely nothing to show for it. Not even the wee inch or so of progress that is my norm for a Bohus session.

Tonight I'll get back to constructing a sweater instead of something you could hold a smallish wedding under, but in the meantime I do believe a bit of a pout is in order.

Public service announcement

Solveig now has the Wild Apple pullover available as a kit! She's also made a kit for the hat and scarf! I don't even wear hats, at least not until it gets down into the serious brass-monkey zone, yet I'm extremely excited about this.

So far, there is no Wild Apple jacket kit. But, I emailed Solveig and she says that if I get both the pullover and hat/scarf kits and follow the generic instructions from one of the other jacket patterns that she does have kitted, then I would have enough yarn and enough basic construction information to make a Wild Apple jacket. There would be a certain amount of faking it - it's uncharted territory for sure - but thankfully most of my knitting contains a hefty element of faking it. Bless you, Elizabeth Zimmerman, wherever you may be.

Above is a photo of the Wild Apple pullover, swiped from "Poems of Color." In-freaking-credible, isn't it? I mustmustmust make the jacket.

By the way, I'm well aware that my admiration and appreciation for all things Bohus has shifted from simple love to fetish. It's OK, though. I'm helping to preserve an art form that should not be lost. I'm creating beauty. I'm doing my part to reduce our energy dependance by making myself wonderful warm sweaters, so I can turn the thermostat down... blah blah blah. In my little universe there are a thousand and one good reasons why I absolutely MUST make this sweater, but the reality of the situation is that there is only one reason:

It's cheaper than a coke habit.

I am by-god going to finish Forest Darkness and the incredible, wonderful Blue Shimmer that I adore beyond words before launching Wild Apple. (Note to Frank: I really really want to start the Shimmer RIGHT NOW. It's been calling to me. Loudly. But you are right, I need to get Forest Darkness finished first.) And of course there are other projects that need doing. For instance, there is a handspun Guy Sweater that must be designed and built, there are interesting Cookie A socks that need to be constructed, there is a handspun Dale skulking about... All good, all worthy. Coke isn't the only drug, ya know? But Wild Apple simply Must. Be. Done.

In additional Bohus news, Green Mist - another on my wanna-knit list - is available as a pullover/cardigan and will be available as a jacket soon. Neither Wild Apple nor Green Mist are on Solveig's website yet, but you can still order them - just send her an email.

Non-Bohus news: Eh, who cares?

Birthday bounty

No. 43 was last week. My honey got me (among other things of no interest to fiberish types) a second Bohus kit! The new one is Blue Shimmer, which I believe was the most popular Bohus ever produced. It is so gorgeous and intricate and subtle ... I can't tell you how much I love it. Honey did very well ;-)

The picture at left is one I stole from Solveig's website. Don't be intimidated by the fact that most of the site is in Swedish - the pictures are worth ogling even if you think you'd never want to knit your own.

But if you did...

Ordering is not hard. Go to the section labeled Nyheter, have a look around, decide which one you want, then go to the tab that says Kontakta Mig and fill in the form. Don't worry, Solveig's English is quite good. The first kit I ordered she had in the mail the very next day. As I recall it took nine days to arrive, which is pretty good considering it's coming from halfway across the world.

The woman wearing the Shimmer is Kerstin Olsson, who was one of the designers of the original sweaters. I'm not sure if Blue Shimmer is her design or one of the other designers' but whomever designed it was out-of-orbit talented, that much is certain.

I am not going to start this new kit until Forest Darkness is finished, but that shouldn't be too terribly long. My hands are cooperating at the moment; life is good. I'm well past the colorwork and into the gajillion miles of green stockinette. I knit the yoke circularly, of course, then split it into a front, back and two sleeves, knit flat past the underarms, and then joined it back up so I could knit the body in the round.

Progress now is quite respectable, especially considering we've had buckets and buckets of rain lately. Warm sunny days in Vermont are too precious to waste; outside stuff takes precedence over knitting when the sun's out. But lots of rainy days = lots of knitting. Either way, life is good.

In other news, Frank's birthday was yesterday. His is exactly one week after mine. I decided that for us to do the Full Vermonty, I really needed to pimp out his ride, so I got him a bike rack for the hatch and a Thule kayak rack for the roof of the car. All good, considering I gave him the kayak for his birthday a couple of years ago but it was such a pain to drag around without a rack that it was used not at all.

I not only got him the rack, I installed it all by myself, which made me so absurdly, ridiculously pleased with myself I puffed up like a toad. Believe it or not, I can be tricked into thinking I am quite clever by the simple ability to follow clear printed directions.

We motored out to the lake yesterday, kayak securely strapped to the car roof (Look, Frank, it's still up there!) and spent a nice afternoon swimming and paddling around. The car looked happy. Very nicely tricked out it is, especially with my NSK - Notorious Sock Knitters bumper sticker from Blue Moon on the rear.