ag·gre·gate 1. verb, to collect or gather into a sum or whole. 2. noun, a dense cluster of soil particles which vary in size and type 3. noun, the projects accumulating at my desk.
CONvergence is in a little less than two weeks, and I move in a little less than three weeks (squee! flail! embarrassing squeaky noises!). Moving prep and con prep are near the top of my priority list, so some of my work-in-progress projects have had to be pushed to the backburner. My novel WIP and illustration project are now on hold until I have time again. Because of that, I've currently got fewer WIPs on the table than I've had in years. There are four, total.
1. "Liashlynn Vs. the Kudzu" - the custom short story I donated to the CPAaG Haiti auction in January - is almost done. It's just had a major rewrite and currently stands at 42 pages and 11k words. This week I'll be rereading it, forcing it on others, and tweaking it to (with any luck) call it finished.
While I was typing this, a bunch of crows perched on the power line outside my window and started chattering back and forth. Crows play a big part in this story, so their timing gave me a dorky grin.
2. The multi-chapter fanfic I've been working on is inching along, as usual. Yes, I'm working on fanfic instead of original fiction - it's low-stress, purely for fun writing that I can knock out anytime, and that's what fits into my life right now. Plus, it has zany road trip sequences. I mean, c'mon, how can I say no to that?
3. I've been finishing up some woodburning pieces for the CONvergence art show. They just got their first coat of varnish.
I might make more if I have time between packing sessions. Woodburning is weirdly calming, and in the past, it's sold well at the con. After I move, I'm planning on finally setting up the Etsy shop I've been plotting for years, so I'll have someplace to sell these things more than once a year.
4. My second Max hoodie is almost to the hood now, and I've been revising the pattern as I go. Because of the hands, this sweater goes through an awkward phase where it looks like I'm knitting a muppet.
Accordingly, the curmudgeonly muppet-dog has taken to using it as a pillow whenever I set it down. I think he feels a camaraderie with it.
A bit of advice: If you plan on varnishing a project and knitting something in the same day, don't do the varnishing first. Unless you enjoy having little bits of wool stuck to your fingertips all day.
I've been in the middle of nowhere, Wisconsin for almost a week now, staying at my usual retreat: my favorite aunt and uncle's house. This trip had been planned and thwarted twice in the last six months by events out of my control, and finally getting to go has been such a relief.
My aunt and uncle's house is outside a small town on a few acres of wooded land with pockets of rusted horse-drawn farm equipment and 50's era car husks. The biggest excitement of the week is driving down to the recycling center. The coffee pot starts brewing at 6:15am every morning, and I wander out of the spare bedroom and curl up on the sofa with a cup of coffee and a blanket until the wood stove warms the house. I'm never happy about being awake before 9am except when I'm here. At home, being awake before 9am means I've got a workday ahead of me or a massive to-do list looming. Here, being awake before 9am means drinking a hot cup of coffee, having breakfast cooked up for me with a side of sarcasm by Uncle Larry, and getting a good view of the day ahead, which is always laid back even when I have a to-do list.
Aunt Suzy's cat Kolipoki demonstrates how I feel most days that I'm here:
Yeeeeessssss.
On top of the laid back lifestyle up here, this house is just about humming with creative energy. Suzy is a jack of all arts and crafts. She's painted, drawn, woodburned, thrown pottery, carved, and probably some other things I'm forgetting. The house is covered with her handiwork - my room is the one least touched by Suzy's art, and it still has a lamp she woodburned, two framed paintings, and a large underwater mural on drywall screwed onto one wall. Being surrounded by things she's created makes me want to surround myself with things I've created. She's been working on a new carving while I've been here, but it's large scale and won't be done before I leave.
Larry is an inventor. He spends most of the day up in his shop, welding together weight lifting machines of his own design. Three days a week, he's also the personal trainer for the household and his and Suzy's friends. He invents things other than weight lifting machines, but they're not for sale. He makes up songs to sing as he walks around the house, episodes of CSI that ought to get shot, ways to tease me, and over J-term of 2008, "Bidet in a Box" - which, combining his singing and inventing talents, had its own theme song at one point. Every morning for three days when I woke up, Larry would pass me at the coffee pot and say, "I made probably a million dollars this morning working on my Bidet in a Box idea. What did you do this morning?"
It pains me that Bidet in a Box will never be an actual product, not because Larry won't get his millions but because I would love to see a commercial with a cartoon box of toilet wipes singing, "Bidet in a Box, Bidet in a box! Buy it and you'll feel smart as a fox!"
(To answer your questions about this picture: No, he only wears a coat when it's below 0 degrees F; about 65 years old; and yes, he could bench press you.)
Finish a chapter from Sum (AKA book 3 of The Fantasy Series What Ate My Life)
Finish knitting my Sylvi coat
Write the first chapter of an upcoming novel, which I plan on submitting to the WisCon writers workshop at the end of the month
Work on the multi-chapter fanfic I've had in my head since the fall
On Thursday night, I finished a chapter of Sum that I had started in 2008.
On Sunday night, I posted the first chapter of the fic.
And today, with the exception of buttons and a good soak and blocking, I finished this:
This coat was the knitting project mirror to Or Your Money Back, a project I took up thinking I could sit down and knit on it when I was stuck on the story. It turned out that the story itself had few places to get stuck, and the coat turned into more of a symbol of my confidence regarding the project. For a long while it was on hiatus, then it came creeping back into my current WIPs once I was submitting queries, and this week, watching my aunt read (and cry over) OYMB, I finally worked up the guts to finish it.
Like the book, the coat turned out whimsical, twisty, and just a tad shorter than I expected. It also took a mad dash of what seemed like for-fucking-ever to get the finishing done.
I did wind up making some progress on that first chapter I need to get done, but not as much as I had hoped. Normally, not hitting an intended deadline drives me a little nuts. Today, though? Too much else has gone right, and I am far too relaxed to care.
It started with Kiah's hat. That's the one that opened up the flood gates.
See, I'm not a hat knitter. I swear I'm not. I actually don't really like knitting hats. But when I find a hat pattern I really enjoy, it pushes the Temporary Insanity button in my brain and makes me think I love knitting hats and want to marry hats and raise a whole family of woolly little hats with names like Hatthew and Margarhat. This is a serious affliction.
Because when it happens, like it happened with Kiah's hat in Ysolda Teague's Icing Swirl Hat pattern, it gets...scary.
Like so:
I've got chills just looking at it. That's my former roommate Abby dressed as Mary Tyler Moore on Halloween, sporting another Icing Swirl that I knit her in a few evenings.
And this, knit a short while later, is a Ribbed Beanie in Malabrigo Chunky for my landlord. (Which my landlady nearly fell over praising. I tried to explain to her that it was just a plain black ribbed beanie, but that had no effect.)
Then came the (blurry) colleague retirement hat - Helping Hat, Knit Picks Swish Bulky.
And a bastardized Icing Swirl for me, knit in my own thick and thin handspun (the first stuff I spun on my wheel) with colorwork and a thick brim. It's become my default winter hat because it's so warm, but it's not terribly pretty.
Then a shortened Scotty's Hat in Cascade 220 for my mom.
A last minute "Did my mom just trick me into saying I'd knit Opa a hat for her to give to Opa for Christmas?" hat, improvised in leftover Malabrigo Chunky.
A Fish Hat in Cascade 220 for my brother, shown here pouting about his impending digestion.
And finally, my first project knitted entirely in 2010, a happy, sunny Icing Swirl Hat for myself in Cascade Baby Alpaca Chunky. Pictures don't do this hat justice. It's such a bright yellow it's like wearing a miniature sun around - perfect for January.
This, I hope, is where the hatalanche ends. I've texted hats to let them know it's over, and I'm moving on to the sweaters that have been sitting unfinished in my craft area since October.
Where is my flying car? I was told by now there would be flying cars, and so far you have disappointed me. Hell, I'm not picky - a hoverboard will do in a pinch. But something needs to fly me to work.
Especially since 2009 left this in front of my door:
I'm not even going to show you what's on the stairs.
I don't mean to speak ill of your brother, 2010, but you've gotta admit, he had kind of a jerky sense of humor. I mean, trying to trap me inside my apartment with a layer of ice on the welcome mat, just days after Christmas? The welcome mat. Come on.
And before that, when 2009 killed the hard drive on my laptop in the middle of a semester, in the middle of several writing projects? And then, less than six months later, when he killed the logic board while I was in the middle of a novel revision? I had the same instructor both terms, so I couldn't even use "my computer ate it" as an excuse without looking like a liar.
So many people I know labeled 2009 the Year of Suck, I can't even count them all. And parts of the year really sucked for me, too. But there were upsides, especially in the realm of projects.
2009 was the year that I finished my first novel that wasn't about Tiern. It was the year I designed my first knitwear pattern (and the second, which I swear I'm still working on!). It was the year I started spinning and bought my lovely wheel, Mal, who's still one of my favorite things I own. It was the year that rekindled my love of fan fiction, which in turn brought a weird sense of balance to my writing. It was the year I got my own apartment, which immediately filled with wool and notebooks.
2009 was also the year I met scads of friends online - most notably on the Very Longest Thread on Ravelry, an epic chat made up of people so friendly and accepting that they made me feel supported in everything I did. (Here's to a millionth post in 2010, Fredizens!)
So, 2010. I think we need to sit down and make some agreements.
You see this shiny little MacBook Pro? His name is Tony Stark, and he's less than a week old. His external hard drive (not pictured because the stacks of CDs I've been importing into iTunes are hiding it) is Jarvis. Please keep them in good condition through the following year. 2009 was a total fucker to me regarding technology. Don't be like him.
This is the manuscript I finished in late 2009. This year, I want to clean it up to the point where I can send it out to literary agents. I realize that whether or not it piques their interest is totally not up to me, but maybe you could give them a little nudge? This is the first time in my life I've had what feels like a genuinely salable novel in my hands, so if ever there was a time for me to have stunningly good luck regarding the publishing industry, this year would be it.
In 2010, I'm going to finish a couple of different novels. One is a this young adult fantasy thing that shouldn't take long - maybe January and February.
The other is the final book in the Fantasy Series What Ate My Life (not pictured due to sheer bulk). I've got a couple other projects I'm interested in writing, but these are the main two. If I get them done during you, 2010, I'll be ridiculously pleased with myself. Please don't prevent me.
I'm going to finish my Sylvi coat during you as well - preferably before it gets warm again. It's been sitting on my desk so long that apartment wildlife have begun to view it as a natural part of the landscape.
Now, 2010, I'm not going to bog you down entirely with major goals and pressure.
For instance, can we just agree that spinning is awesome and should continue unhindered? I won't make any goals for spinning in 2010, because I want nothing more than to keep enjoying it.
And mittens! I'd love to finish these Cotton Reel Mittens I've been knitting, but I don't actually need them until maybe next fall. Also, they don't have to be of any particular quality, since I'm new to colorwork, the yarn is all scraps, and I kind of love the idea of having a pair of idiosyncratic but adorable mittens.
And I would like to DIG UP A DINOSAUR! But that's not a major deal, either, as you can see.
So far, 2010, I don't think you have anything to worry about. You've been doing a pretty good job. I kicked you off at an awesome New Year's party, dancing to ridiculous music and wearing a fedora. I've gotten a lot of sleep in your first few days, and even so I managed to catch the sunrise yesterday morning. I watched The Princess Bride with the Fredizens and started reading the book aloud to Hobbes (something I've been meaning to do for years).
And there was doodling!
And a great discovery!
(Dunking the cookies in Nutella cancels out the ridiculous "health" notion they advertise and makes them totally NOM.)
So, 2010, I think you'll be fine. Keep being laid back and fun. Don't let anything major break. Be kind.
And for the love of all that is good and holy, don't listen to 2009. He's a bad influence.
LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WE HAVE ACHIEVED DOG SWEATER!
It's a quick, simple design, it's warm, and most importantly, it's pain-free to get him into. You can't see it well from the picture, but there's a button right behind his leg. The sweater is worked top-down seamlessly and knit in the round until the shoulders, where it splits into a cape-like top piece and a narrower belly piece.
To illustrate, here's what the cape part looked like pre-buttons:
Getting it on him goes like this:
Step 1: Pull sweater over dog's head.
Step 2: (Optional) Watch dog frolic about like an idiot doing his "I has a sweater!" dance.
Step 3: Button the corners of the flaps to each other, closing the body of the sweater.
No fuss, warm dog. It's a really easy design to modify and add to, so I'm planning on doing a few versions of it for Hobbes for this winter - including at least one with sleeves.
I'm pretty sure dog ownership causes temporary insanity.
Over the holiday break, my dog has breathed toxic fumes into my face, woken me up to his barfing noises (one of his favorite hobbies) multiple times, whined incessantly for turkey scraps, and pulled gastrointestinal pyrotechnics so unholy they earned him the nickname The Golgothan and made me late for work.
And yet, after giving him a haircut this afternoon...all I want to do is knit the foul beast a sweater.
Hobbes is the sort of dog who actually needs sweaters in the winter. He's fourteen years old and has arthritis that flares up when he gets cold. Add to that the fact that we live in Minnesota, and the ridiculous baby blue dog parka I got for him a few years back is his favorite thing in the world four months out of the year.
But there's a problem with most dog sweaters (and parkas). They're not designed for dogs with shoulder joint problems. Even the cardigan-style ones have to be pulled over the dog's head with his legs pulled out straight, because the opening on them is along the chest and belly, like cardigans for humans. Hobbes's shoulders won't move like that anymore, so this is as far as I can get store-bought sweaters onto him:
He seems to think a badly fitted cowl is better than nothing, though, because he's been happily wearing his old fisherman sweater around the apartment like this.
This got me thinking about dog cowls. Which got me reaching for the baby alpaca/acrylic blend in the bottom of my stash that I got from a friend's destash and never found a use for. Which got me thinking again about the construction of dog sweaters. I've tried knitting back-closure dog sweaters before, and they're still tricky to get an arthritic old dog into, because there's leg-lifting and sensitive paws to worry about. But what about a sweater with a neck and shoulders knit in the round that splits at the legs and gets buttoned up in lines behind them?
It may be the temporary dog insanity talking, but I'm going to try this. If it works, I'll report back with some kind of arthritic dog sweater formula. If it doesn't, I'll rip it out and knit him a nice lace dog cowl for the hell of it.
There comes a point in every major creative project where I have to stop, assess just how deep I've gotten myself into this thing, and make some promises to myself to keep it from getting out of hand. Right now, I'm at that point with the Max hoodie. I originally intended it to be done around the time Where the Wild Things Are came out, but I only finished the sweater math today. It still needs formatting, test knitting, yardage math, quadruple number checking, and probably some sort of virgin sacrifice in order to work. The bones are done, but there's much fleshing out left to do.
So. Pinky swear time.
Promise the first: Max will be a free pattern. When I first started out, I told myself I would offer this pattern for free, and I'm going to stick to that. What I'm not going to stick to is my original reason for not charging - that I couldn't possible charge someone for a pattern I made. That's bullshit; I've been working hard at this and the result is going to be pretty cool. New reasoning: I'm doing this for the fun of it and to see if I actually can.
Promise the second: If I write another pattern, I will put more value in my own work. If I feel I've done the work to charge for it, I will. (I'll also make sure it's worth charging for, of course.)
Promise the third: I will only write patterns if it continues to be fun for me to write patterns. I'm having a blast right now! But if it ever reaches the point where pressure from someone else becomes the driving force of this hobby, screw it. Also, this will remain just that: a hobby. I'm not aiming to be a professional designer - I've already got enough financially insupportable aspirations, thankyouverymuch!
Promise the fourth: If I can work writing and pattern designing in together, I will. I've got an idea I'm really excited about, but I won't tell you about it yet, because it'll be awhile before I can do anything with it.
Them's the swears. Hopefully I'll have something more to show on this pattern soon.
I went out with Abby and Kiah last night, to do stuff that former roommates who are now neighbors do, and Kiah was wearing the hat I knit for her the other day. I didn't blog about that hat, did I?
This hat was an accident. I had sweater scraps leftover, a dull afternoon at work, and a Ysolda Teague pattern promising a quick hat. It ended up being a color and pattern combination that I wouldn't really wear, but it matched the hat that Kiah'd been living in during the cold snap this fall. Also, it was meant to look like frosting, which is Kiah's favorite food group. Clearly, it was meant for her.
Abby wanted a hat like Kiah's to go with a Halloween costume she's planning, and I offered to make her one.
Abby: "Really? You think you could do that by Halloween?"
Me: "It only takes a few hours."
Abby: "But don't you have other stuff you're working on? Aren't you, like...knitting socks or something?"
Me: "I'm hardly ever knitting socks."
Kiah: "She's always knitting socks. She's always knitting seven pairs of socks at one time."
Abby: "Really?"
Me: "Nuh-uh!"
Kiah: "She's always knitting seven of everything at one time."
I protested this statistic mightly. But today at work, I realized I had four hats in progress in my bag. So I started gathering up my projects for a headcount.
Four hats.
Four pairs of socks, most of which have been hibernating for months.
And four sweaters.
Everything else is in ones.
Well.
In my defense, I'm still not knitting seven of everything.
I cut my first steek last night. Here, let me show you.
Knitters: "Oh god! The horror!" (fainting)
Non-knitters and advanced, steek-happy knitters: "Uh-huh. And?"
I had no idea whether this would work. The yarn I'm using is superwash, so the fibers don't cling to one another like ideal steeking yarn does, and the edge certainly won't felt. At first, looking at all the little frayed edges, I imagined horrible unravelings and the ghost of the sweater haunting me in my dreams. But no - once I started picking up stitches and knitting the button band, the steeked edge very politely folded itself over and let me work. No unraveling!
The right side of the button bands looks just fine, aside from a slight mistake with the button row that I don't really mind.
This is the current state of the sweater:
I'm going to sew a thick line of ribbon over the steeked edge on the inside of the cardigan once all the ends are woven in and whatnot. I'll miss being able to flash those gory edges at people.
I went to a midnight showing of Where the Wild Things Are last night and couldn't go to bed when I got home because I was still processing it. I'd known going into it that I'd enjoy the movie - based on the previews, it looked laser-targeted to my generation. I just didn't know how hard this movie would hit me. It wrapped its furry, clawed digits around my heart and squeezed.
Without spoiling too much, I'll tell you this: the driving force of Where the Wild Things Are is Max. The movie operated less on suspense than on Max-level want. Major events include things like the wild rumpus in the book - seemingly low-stakes events - and yet they came across as important, because they were important to Max. His POV is so, so strong. I understand why a lot of critics aren’t liking the movie - you have to buy into the kid’s logic. You have to remember what it’s like to feel that way. If you don’t, it’s a big, weird, pretty movie about forts and monsters, wherein nothing really happens.
I remember. I've been that kid. I've shared a room with that kid, too. For me, Max read as a perfect combination of my childhood and my brother's, and because of that, I bought into his POV completely. His story is simple on the surface. The critics are right, sort of - nothing much happens, at least not from a grown-up perspective. But if you let yourself get sucked into Max's head, the emotional undertow will pull you right in.
Anyway, since it's the opening day for Wild Things, I may as well post this. I was hoping to have a pattern available today, but I've been so sleep deprived lately that doing sweater math seems akin to designing a skyscraper. So, in lieu of that, here are pictures of the finished Max hoodie.
I wore it to the movie last night, because I'm a giant dork. Also because it's quickly becoming one of my favorite things in my wardrobe. The ears have a mind of their own, but I sort of love that about them.
The weather here has been jumping back and forth between freezing and rainy and freezing and snowy, so layering this thick wool hoodie with my favorite leather coat is making walks to and form work much more bearable. I don't want to break out the winter gear just yet, and this lets me put that off a little longer.
Plus, if anyone declares a wild rumpus at the intersection, I'm already dressed for it.
When I first started knitting, Bex (she who passed on the dreadful condition) helped me work up a list of supplies I needed to begin collecting: needles, notions, and yarn, mainly. As much as that list evolved over time, there's one incredibly useful item that never appeared on it: a spin dryer.
I'm in love with my spin dryer. I bought it for laundry purposes, but it's turned out to be one of the biggest sanity-saving devices in my craft arsenal. See, I'm also in love with sweaters. And wet-blocking a sweater on the very limited counter space in my studio apartment? Pain. In. The. Ass. Cooking becomes a nerve-wracking experience when you're worried about spilling chopped onions on the sweater you spent the last month knitting.
My spin dryer makes it a non-issue. Last night I decided to block a certain sweater I've been working on, which is over 1000 yards of bulky wool (read: holds water with camel-like, physics defying capacity). After two minutes in the spin dryer, it was almost wearably dry. I laid it out on the counter to block, and this morning there was just one slight damp spot left, where the fabric had been layered on itself.
The spin dryer is also wonderful for finishing handspun. Toss in a wet skein, and out comes a slightly damp skein that only needs to be placed somewhere safe to finish drying, not hung dripping in the shower. Since there's no agitation involved,the dryer can't felt anything, and it's so gentle on fabric I've tossed lace projects in there without worry. Definitely one of the coolest tools I own for knitting and spinning, and I didn't even mean it to be!
In semi-related news, I'm wearing my first sweater today. It's a year old as of last week and still holding up beautifully. Happy belated birthday, sweater!
Look at this thing, will you? It's gorgeous. It's Bex's merino/seacell handspun in Kirsten Kapur's Rickenbacker Scarf pattern, which was evidently a perfect storm of pattern and yarn. I mean, look at it.
"I think it may have some neat striping," Bex said when she handed me the skein. Yeah, uh, less with the striping and more with the gorgeous frakking color transitions. Even aside from the amazing colors, this was some of the nicest yarn I've ever worked with. It's lofty, silky, and so nice to the touch that I've been wearing this scarf around in 70-degree weather just so I can grope it when nobody's watching.
I did make one slight error on this scarf. The pattern suggested it be 52" long. I misread that as 72". And then I said, "Eh, fuck it, I'll just keep going until I'm not entertained by the pattern anymore."
Here's how far it falls when I don't have it wrapped around my neck twice:
And to answer the questions I'm sure are on your mind, thank you, they were $4 at the Girls' Clearance section at Target, and yes, I do have astoundingly tiny feet.
I also knit up Ysolda's Ripley as an instant gratification project but haven't had a chance to wear it anywhere yet.
You can't tell from looking at it, but that hat was mostly knit during a Supernatural drinking game. Turns out I can drink and knit lace (which is funny because I always mess lace up when I'm sober). I think it's a superpower.
So, now that I've got the world's most awesome fall scarf and a cute new hat, what next? Christmas knitting!
Here's my Christmas knitting yarn stash. It's missing a hat or two worth of yarn, I think.
And then, there's something for me.
That's going to grow up to be a Snapdragon Tam, if I can stop staring at it long enough to cast-on.
Progress has been made on my Where the Wild Things Are hoodie, but that really deserves its own post. For now, I'll leave you with this. Go watch the featurette and have a smile.
