Yarn Harlot

More of a chronic condition

Tomorrow Joe's going away with his mum. They've been planning it for a while - off to the US to see the Grand Canyon and visit a relative, and Joe's mum is psyched. (Joe is too - let's be honest.) Her kids - all four of them, travel with her in turns, and this trip has been set in stone for a while. Since they leave in the morning, today they have to provide Homeland Security with "advance travel information" like your passport number and expiry date, and where you'll be while you're in the United States - and Joe being Joe, today was the day that he fetched his passport from his underwear drawer (where all right thinking people keep important documents) and was about to hop on the phone with his mum to give her the information, when he happened to glance at the expiry date of that wee book, and notice, much to his horror, that it was a date in the past.

When he recovered himself sufficiently and regained the power of speech, he called the passport office to see if anything could be done, and they said for him to come right down with all his paperwork, and see what could be sorted for him. They warned him though, that getting a passport renewed on the same day was strictly a mission for "emergencies" and not to get his hopes up. Passport Canada's website advised that the 24 hour service (which really wasn't even fast enough for us) was only available with proof of travel (got it) and that "Passport Canada will take appropriate action on a case-by-case basis." Not too hopeful, since the last time either Joe or I checked, being a moron wasn't really an emergency, but more of a chronic thing.

Down we went, and after the requisite wait, we found ourselves in front of a nice lady at the wicket, and Joe launched into his tale of woe. How his stupid mistake was going to spoil his mum's vacation, how he'd clearly taken leave of his senses, how upset his mum would be, how he really loved his mum and she was nice, how, when she found out he hadn't checked until this morning she was probably going to tell him his was stunned as a bat, and how he would disappoint her, how... how there just had to be a way (not to put it to bluntly) how there had to be a way to keep him, a forty-one year old man, from getting into trouble with his mummy.

The lady didn't even blink. Took the papers, screened Joe's old passport, told Joe they'd do their best and to come back at close of day, one and a half hours later and see what happened.

We left the building, hitting his references on speed-dial to warn them the call would be coming and would they be so kind as to be sure and answer the phone, only to discover that Passport Canada had already called his references- before we were in the car. Joe returned, ninety minutes later, to face the music, and he had already reconciled himself to the idea that it was unlikely that the fact that he was a bonehead was an emergency that could conquer a bureaucracy the size of the Canadian Government, and was already planning what he would say to his mum.

I called minutes later to ask him if he'd gotten it? Was it okay? Did it work? Was it possible- and all Joe said to me on the phone was "Steph, you're not going to believe this. I love this country. Apparently the risk of disappointing your mum IS an emergency. I have a passport."

You could have knocked me over with a feather. I imagined them scurrying around, all the people at the Passport Office, calling the right people, doing all this stuff, all of them saying "Oh, man, we've got to get this done or his mother's going to kill him" and suddenly I figured out why it had worked. Joe's a nice man, and everybody has a mother.

Erin Go Bragh

Finishing green legwarmers to start a green sweater out of wonderful Irish wool. Vegetarian Irish Stew on the stove. Soda bread in the oven. Sun shining.

Happy St. Patricks Day!

Detroit Done

I'm gone and back to Detroit, and I had a great time. You can say all you like about the place (and I know people do) but I tell you this, the people are the best. I had several experiences that were awesome, and they were all human related. From the friendly, welcoming service everywhere I went, to the knitters and the folks I met every where I went, Detroit's people outshone it's architecture (which is pretty awesome) and it's casino's. (I actually really hate casinos, so I don't think it's hard for me to have anybody outshine that. Poor example.)

Things that were awesome.

1. The Detroit river. All full of ice, with Canada on the other side.

2. This big ex-ferris wheel, where instead of tearing it down, they covered it and turned it into a giant tire. I don't know why I loved it, but I did.

3. The city itself is very pretty, and if you look, there's some wonderfully beautiful things. This is the third floor of the library where I spoke.

3. The knitters.

I'm pretty easy to please, no matter where I go I like the knitters, so I suppose this one was a big of a gimmee. I loved the requisite first sock knitters:
Jennifer, Meg and Lisa, who went over the top and presented a first sweater.

And there was Steven,

who not only knit his first socks, but knit them for me, which was pretty outstandingly touching. (I've had a good look at them too... they're perfect. They look nothing like first socks. Darned good knitting, even though he had to put a rush on them and finished them right there.)

There were babies too, Amy and Moira and Sara and David - who looks so charming in his sleep that I forgive him for not waking up to amuse me.

Juliet knit me a carrot. (Very charming vegetable.)

I got to meet SpillyJane (maker of fine mitten patterns) and Knitterella and French Press knits.

4. Awesome thing the 4th: This is Brenna.

Brenna is notable because she met me in the bathroom and admitted right there that she had successfully defeated the urge to Kinnear me while I was in there. I loved her instantly, for having the urge, for admitting it and most of all... for resisting it. Other people have not been so strong.

5. I got two more washcloths, a St. Patricks day one from Jason (who was wicked on Twitter while I was planning this) and a UP one from Kristine.

(UP is the Upper Peninsula of Michigan. I felt good that I knew that.)

6. I left my iphone in a cab, and the unbelievable cabbie picked it up, waited until I called it, answered and drove it to my hotel, then demanded nothing from me but a hug for bringing it. I gave him money anyway, but the point is that he was totally going to do if for no reason other than that he was decent. I loved him.

7. Our lady Presbytera of the comments, who was my faithful native guide, and Alice, who showed up out of nowhere and was a pleasure to see, especially since she shared my love of the Olympics in grand style.

8. This.

Next time I'm going to Motown. Thanks for being awesome Detroit!

Don't fight it, it'll only take longer

Today I am blogging from the airport, and I'm happily admitting that I'm not even trying not to be random. I'm just going to let it roll.

1. I am going to try and remember to stop and get American money before the Library tomorrow because it's starting to look like the wee marketplace that they're having before the talk is going to be cool. Knitterella says so, and I believe her.

2. Someone emailed me and asked me what Sock Camp was. Sock Camp is a brainchild of Tina over at Blue Moon, and I help her fulfill that vision. (That's my story and I'm sticking to it.) Other than that, it sort of defies description. Tina? Can you blog an answer? How about a photographic answer? Anybody who's been there wanna try and describe it? It's camp for grown-ups, with all sorts of fun and and great food- coupled together with serious learning opportunities for knitters who are really excited to learn more about socks in specific, and knitting/dyeing in general. This year I'm teaching all about the elements of socks, swapping and choosing among them, I think Tina's going to help knitters learn about dyeing and show them how to overdye skeins of yarn (great way to fix yarn that needs a little love) Ann Hanson is teaching sock design, Janel Laidman's teaching stranded knitting, Sivia Harding is doing beads, and Cat Bordhi is doing how to invent stitch patterns.

Janel, Cat, Tina and I are teaching at the first session, and Anne, Sivia, Tina and are are teaching at the second one. (That second one is full, but there are still spots in the first one. You should come. You would love it.)

I look forward to camp all year. There's camaraderie, it's in a cool place (Port Ludlow) we do really fun things (scavenger hunt, knitters Jeopardy) we learn more than you can imagine, and we dream and learn big. I can't imagine anyone who wouldn't love it, but I may be projecting on account of I look forward to it all year. Other than at Sock Summit, it's when I feel most cherished as a knitter.

3. I am making really good time on my March socks. The random sock generating system this month picked me Numma Numma's Toasty Yarn in Nutella, and the pattern is Anne Hanson's Roger.

I feel fantastic about my odds of finishing before the month is over and I don't even mind saying that out loud.

4. I am drinking the worst cup of coffee ever.

It is fantastically horrific. As a matter of fact, I have been trying to figure out three things. How it is possible for it to look like coffee when it clearly isn't, how bad does coffee need to be before it's a human rights violation, and why I am actually drinking it instead of trying to figure out how to fix whatever is wrong with the system that's making it so that nobody else needs to suffer like this. The pain should stop with me.

Rail Against Random

I typed here for a good long time trying not to get random with it, and failed rather miserably. I'm busting a move to get ready to go to Detroit this weekend, and I've just realized that my expectation that I'm going to manage everything on my to-do list is about as crazy as that impulse I get every now and then to start a sweater because I'm cold. Ever get that one? I get cold and then instead of going up to the sweater box and pulling a finished one out, I go stand in the stash like I'm going to be able to knit a sweater fast enough to solve the problem of being chilly right that minute. Magical thinking. In the end, I decided that I am going to be a little random, and there's nothing I can do to prevent it. I have too many things to tell you that have nothing to do with each other.

1. After perusing around for appropriate prizes, I used a random number generator to choose three names from among all those who emailed me, the first takes Gold:

A beautiful skein of handpainted cashmere from Handmaiden, here in Canada, which I'll bundle together with a signed copy of Free-Range Knitter: The Yarn Harlot Writes Again (which is really my old book, now out in paperback, which is sort of cool since I never had a book come out in both hardcover and paperback before. It's not in the store yet, I have some advance copies.) and be mailing off to Lexyjane, who didn't finish her Olympic project due to an injury, but typified the Olympic spirit by dong her level best.

Silver:

A signed copy of the book along with this skein of yarn, which is the new STR colourway for the Knitting Olympics called "going for gold", goes out to Lynn W. (Chalicewitch).

Bronze:

No picture, but Karen M will be telling me her favourite colour and getting a surprise along with the book, I hope she likes it.

A thousand thanks to the almost 2000 knitters who sent an email. You guys are what makes it fun.

2. The sweater I started may be terminally ill. I'm considering taking it in to knit night tonight and seeing if anyone else feels the love. Could be they'll get a boatload of yarn to go home with. I must have been drunk when I bought this. It's beautiful yarn, but it's not me, and this is my second attempt to love it without any success at all. Sometimes it's a good idea to let it go before the resentment builds and you end up in a dishonest relationship with yarn.

3. Sadly, due to an absolutely unavoidable crappy thing, Anna Zilboorg won't be able to join us to teach at session one of Sock Camp this year. This is pretty much heartbreaking to me because she's - well. She's Anna Zilboorg. Let's just leave it there. Happily, the planet has provided a silver lining, which is that the inestimably fabulous Janel Laidman is going to come teach stranded colourwork for socks instead, and that's pretty darned far beyond awesome. There's a few spots left if you think so too. (I think session two might be full.) I'm looking forward to it in a way that's both unreasonable and unhealthy, but hey. That's sock camp.

4. I totally did finish my February self-imposed-sock-club kit, and even managed to do so before it was too far out of February. (March 3rd.) This month a drew a baggie containing STR lightweight in Jubilation, and a pattern that I've loved for a long time, the Feather and Fan socks from Socks Socks Socks .

Over the years I've knit this pattern at least five times, and it never disappoints. (Except that I change the heel a bit. I've got a thing. I like 'em a certain way.)

That's two months, two pairs of socks, and the goal to have an even dozen at the end of the year doesn't seem all that crazypants.

5. I bet you thought I didn't do the February socks because of the Olympics.

6. Ha.

7. That would have had more emphasis if I had finished them in February, I know.

Random Tuesday

1. I infuriated my cat with a trip to the vet. She's fine. I have 3rd degree scratches

and the vague feeling I should watch my back. That's cat rage.

2. David created a podium page here. Once you submit your email address, Franklin's gold medal icon will show up by your name on the Athletes page. I did me. It was very satisfying.

3. I have started and rejected a sweater. I'm not ready to talk about it. It sucks.

4. I am making my sister legwarmers. She said she wanted them, but she didn't say she wanted these.

Sydney. by Stacyjoy Elkin. I like them. I hope Erin does. Speak now or forever wear legwarmers you hate, because I will expect you to wear them.

5. Prizes for Knitting Olympics tomorrow. Promise.

A Question and a Sweater

In the comments yesterday, Dawn asked this question:

You've made several sweaters in the last couple of years, which ones do you find yourself reaching for the most? Which are your favorites?

In the last few years I've knit a several sweaters, maybe 7 or 8, but only a handful of them have stayed with me. A few were gifts, a few went off to be worn by others when they suited them better (coughRachelHcough) and a few have become good friends that I've worn to death. I love the Must Have Cardi and it's turned out to be one that I wear not quite everyday, but a few times a week. (I've learned that if I love them when I finish, that the glow usually lingers for a while.) I wear my Guld Bohus, I wear a bunch of them, but absolutely unequivocally, my all time ultimate favorite sweater is my Top Down Wrap Cardi from Knitting Pure and Simple. I went looking through the blog to try and find it, and it turns out that for reasons that I can't explain, I only ever took one picture of it, and it was this one:

I took it in the Seattle airport in June of 2007, which is pretty craptastic for a sweater that I love as much as it turns out that I do. This sweater has been my best buddy for two and a half years. I knit it out of Dream in Color Classy in Strange Harvest, and in the intervening time, not only have I jammed it in suitcases, sat on it in on planes, used it as a pillow on trains, wrapped a cold baby in it (twice, and two different babies) I've also washed it by hand at least 20 times, and in the washing machine at least 10 times (gently) on purpose and had it land in the dryer 3 times (not at all on purpose) courtesy of my husband who generally displays good sense and intelligence, but seems to have a bit of a blind spot when it comes to laundry.

I've spilled coffee on it. I've slept in it. I've yanked it around myself against a chill and worn it for days on end with the sleeves rolled up so that I can wash dishes or type. I hang it over the back of chairs, I leave it in a crumpled heap.
In short, I love it, and it has served me well. This is my go-to, grab and run sweater. If I'm leaving the house and need another layer, I put it on when I get up in the morning when the house is still cold.

It was the sweater that was handy when I went out the door to the hospital in an emergency, I've dried innumerable tears on the sleeve, and it is the sweater that I put over a tee shirt and jeans if I want to "dress up an outfit". (I know. My sense of fashion is devastating.. isn't it?)

I believe this sweater fits me fantastically (not that it really has a fit, but you know what I mean) and it's all the best things about a sweater. It's cozy, it's pretty, it's durable, it matches everything in my wardrobe (though maybe not yours, I do specialize in wearing clothing all the colours of 70's appliances.) and when I wear it, no matter where or when I wear it, I feel taller and rather thin.

I think that probably hundreds of you have seen me wear it in person. I wear it that much.

I've used it as an emergency rag when a cup of spilled juice was headed for my laptop, I've waved it for emphasis during some rant or other directed at a teenager. I've even used it as a potholder once, carrying a hot casserole to the table. (That was a snap decision, and probably disrespectful to the sweater.) As a matter of fact, the only thing I've never done with this sweater is tie it shut (not even once) and it still looks... for a sweater that's been well used and loved for two and a half years.. like a million bucks, I think.

There you have it. The sweater that is my favourite. The sweater I'm wearing now. The sweater that all of a sudden, I'm thinking about knitting again, maybe tomorrow. (Maybe in another colour.)

Thanks for asking Dawn.

Done Done Done

(Typing "done" three times made it look like it was spelled wrong. So wrong I had to check. I hate that.)

On Sunday morning, the last day of the Winter Olympics, I woke up with a tremendous sense of doom. While I'd already come to grips with the idea that I might not make it, and that there's no particular shame it biting off more than you can chew, I'd also come to understand that I wouldn't like that at all. I like meeting my goals. It feels good, and I was determined that if I wasn't going to finish that sweater, that there was no chance... none at all, that I wasn't going down fighting. I got up and surveyed the sweater parts, and tried to figure out a plan of attack. At 9:00 on Sunday morning, I had most sweater parts, but they were not a sweater. I had to finish one sleeve, I had to steam them (no time for a proper watery bath), measure, sew and cut the steeks, sew up the shoulders, set in the sleeves, sew down the facings, sew the hems on the sleeves, sew down the hem on the body, pick up and knit the neckband, and then sew down that same neckband.   Since this was barely possible, first I made a lot of coffee.

10:57am. Finished the second sleeve. Did smallish dance of victory, then remembered that I was still screwed. Drank more coffee, and set about steeking.

10:58am. Looked at the stinking sweater parts and realized that I had neglected to sew in any ends anywhere on a fussy 4 colour sweater. Turned the bits inside out to see how bad things were. Decided it would only take 10 minutes. Drank more coffee.

12:00: Finished weaving in ends. Felt wave of deep regret that after 36 years of knitting experience I am still so completely optimistic delusional about knitting that I thought that weaving in ends would only take 10 minutes when it took an hour.

12:02: Decided to berate self for timing errors another day since there was no time for it now.

12:03: Began steeking process. Measured sleeve to see how big to cut opening in sweater.

12:04: Measured again. Cutting a big gash in a sweater is a one-way move, and one should be very careful before fetching the scissors and doing something rash.

12:05: Measured other sleeve to see if they were the same for the same reason as at 12:04.

12:06: Marked opening after re-measuring.

12:07: Started again after deciding that maybe I measured wrong even though everything looked totally fine.

12:08: Re-measured.

12:09: Re-steamed the sleeve in case the first steaming wasn't good enough and maybe I didn't have the measurements right.

12:13: Re-measured. Got the same measurement as the other six times. Wondered if maybe I was starting to get obsessive and weird.

12:14. Asked Joe to measure sleeves- just to be sure.

12:16: Endured marital spat with Joe when he refused (wisely) to get on the "crazy sweater train" and took his advice to maybe cut back on the coffee and get a grip.

12:24: Sat for a while. Contemplated switch from coffee to beer.

12:26: Decided that both beer and coffee could influence accuracy.

12:27. Re-measured.

12:28: Sewed the steeks.

12:35 Wondered if the sleeve steeks were really the right size.

12:36: Re-measured before cutting.

12:40: Took a deep breath and cut the sleeve openings.

Here I always pause and marvel that you can actually do this, and it works. Need an armhole? JUST CUT ONE.   Crazyville.

12:45: Sewed up the shoulders.

1:00: Unpicked shoulders after realizing that I hadn't done a very good job because I was rushing. While I unpicked them I gave myself a really wicked talking to. Title: This sweater was too much work to be a piece of crap. There's no point in finishing and still not getting a sweater you like. Buck up buttercup. Focus. Sewed shoulders up nicely.

1:10: Ripped up house like a lunatic because I have probably 193856 pins in this place and there is no way that I can't find any of them. Gave speech to Joe and cat about how people are always touching my stuff and that's why I can't find it and I don't mess with their stuff so why are they always messing with mine and that's what's wrong with this family is that nobody cares about me or my pins I just do laundry and LOOK FOR MY PINS THAT YOU ALL TOUCH.

1:15. Located pins in sewing box where they were all the time. Apologized to Joe and cat. Commenced sewing in sleeves. Poured remainder of coffee down sink.

2:11. Finished sewing in sleeves and started to sew facings over cut edges of steeks. Made more coffee.

3:11, Sucess is mine. Began picking up stitches for the neckband and put on the hockey game. All seems well. I have until about 8:30 to finish. I should be able to nail a neckband in that amount of time as long as I stay on my game.

3:15 until 6:00. I'm not sure what I did in here. I thought I was knitting, but all I can confirm in the end is that I held my knitting the whole time, but when the hockey game was over and Canada had achieved total world hockey domination (both women's and men's gold, eh?) I had apparently only knit three rounds.

6:02, Try to set priorities. I have to leave for the pub at 7. Knit or bathe?

6:05. Bathe. Poor hygiene never helped anyone. While I'm in the tub I try to remind myself that I'm probably not going to finish anyway, and that while failing might be inevitable, I can at least control how I smell and look while I fail.

6:30. Take precious knitting time to find "Canada" shirt to wear to pub. (Still feel good about this choice.)

7:00 Joe drives me to the pub, and I knit like a demon the whole way, regretting deeply that I've let the whole thing come down to black ribbing in a darkened car. Poor planning. If it was white ribbing I might have stood a chance.

7:05. Search knitting bag for white yarn in case I actually could make the ribbing white. Fail.

7:25. Arrive at pub and find some happy knitters celebrating their gold. Denny finished Dale of Norway's "Vancouver" (And Amy is wearing the right gear)

Megan is finished (even though it's a terrible picture, the shawl is beautiful)

Team Canada shirts are everywhere...

and just so that I don't feel alone.. Natalie is still trying to sprint to the finish.

You will note that Natalie (who did totally finish in time) has had the presence of mind to bring a headlamp to the pub so she can see what she's doing. Brilliant. When it comes down to the wire like that it's all about the equipment.

I started knitting like a fool at that point, as the Closing ceremonies started. Natalie finished with the headlamp and Amy and Denny took turns shining it on my work so I could see to cast off, and with only moments to spare -

I finished. It was really, really close. Really. A lot. If a couple of the speeches had gone a little short, or if I'd chosen to eat dinner instead of apply that time to knitting, there's no way I would have made it. (I actually blame the overtime in the hockey game, but it's hard to not love everything about that game so I'm letting it go.) In the end though, I have a sweater. I love it. I got gold, and I'm thrilled. Joe and I took the sweater for a walk yesterday, out into the great Canadian outdoors, where it belongs.

Pattern: Whistler, from Dale of Norway.
Modifications: only two. I took out the placket and zip on the front, because I like a straight up pullover, and I changed the yellow that was in the pattern to bronze.

Yarn: Heilo. Also Dale of Norway.

Needles, sizes 2.5mm, 3mm and 3.5mm.

I love it. I really do, and I'm also so glad it's finished. Big project. Feels good.

Business:

1. If you were a participant listed on the Athletes page, you are eligible to be entered in the draw for a prize, even if you didn't finish. Trying is the only thing you need to have done.

2. To enter, send an email to goldATyarnharlotDOTca (changing the AT and DOT to the appropriate symbols, of course.)

3. You'll get back an auto-respond that lets you know you're entered, and has a link to a cool pdf for knitters who took gold. (You can thank Franklin for the certificate.)

4. The auto-respond thingie only works when my mail is open here at home, so if you don't get one right away - don't panic and send another one. Wait a day. Then check your spam filter (the email will come from the same address) before you try again, okay?

5. I'll keep that up and running until Monday, then draw for a prize.

6. No. I'm not telling what the prize is. It's not a car or a million dollars though, so don't get weird on me.

7. I keep forgetting to tell you that I'll be in Detroit at the Public Library on Saturday March 13th at 1:00. They're having a little yarn marketplace first and everything. See if you can come, it's going to be fun.

8. I also wanted to answer Elyse from the comments. She asks:

Did any one watch the mens curling - final game Norway - Canada - and see
the lady with the double points and what looked like a childs sweater -
seated right in front of Steven Harper?

See it? I got so excited that I took a picture of the TV.

The ladies in red are the Womens Silver medal curling team, the man to the left is Stephen Harper, the Prime Minister of Canada, and right there in front? KNITTER!
It's something on double points, but maybe we'll never know what, or who she is.. does anyone know this Knitter?   Whoever she is, way to represent lady. Knitters. We're everywhere.

Stepping onto the Podium

The Olympics ended last night, both Knitting and real, and I for one was sad to see them go. It's been a hell of a party, especially, I think - if you had the privilege of being Canadian. Everyone I know here at home has had the best time seeing the world come to Canada and see our fine country the way that we do. We are very proud of this wonderful country, if usually a little quiet about that, and watching the wave of happiness that swept the nation as Canadians threw the biggest house party ever has left even the most staid of us slapping on the maple leaf and cheering in a way that suddenly felt very Canadian, even if it usually isn't. We were rewarded too, with houseguests that seemed to love the fine city of Vancouver and all the people in it, and partied on in a way that was so sportsmanlike and kind. Every country wins some and loses some- but as a citizen here, it was spectacular to watch Canada show off what being the true north can mean.. that the upside of freezing your arse off most of the year also can mean that you garner more gold medals than ever before... more even than any country before, and the icing on the cake was the spectacular hockey game last night when we took on our neighbours to the south and barely beat them... because a gold medal means more when you've got a really talented opponent who's really hard to beat. It was a great Olympics to be Canadian... and it was a really great Knitting Olympics to be Canadian. Yesterday I had to haul flat out to finish, but finish I did, and I'm really rather proud of myself.   (I'll tell the story tomorrow.)

I was worried, at several points in this Olympiad, that I wasn't going to finish, and I really dealt with my feelings about that. I wasn't going to like it, but the idea was for the Knitting Olympics to be a personal challenge, and if there wasn't a chance that I couldn't do it, then it wouldn't be a challenge, and win or lose, I was going to be proud of myself for taking it on.

It's not really important, finishing a sweater in 17 days. Not really. Nobody lives or dies because I met a personal challenge, and if you didn't finish, you should rest assured that it's unlikely to hold you back in your life in any meaningful way... Trying and failing really isn't a setback. Not any more than going to the Olympics and coming in 5th place - or 23rd.   If you tried and failed, well good for you. I think you're awesome and that trying is way better than finishing a sweater in 17 days (which isn't exactly a life skill.) If was easy, then it wasn't a challenge, and if you truly set a challenge and didn't meet it- then I bet you know why, and knowing something more about yourself (even if it's that you have a completely unreasonable knitting ego) is pretty great and can only serve you. I really think that. I'm proud of everyone who gave it a shot and fell short, whether you finished or not you are now the sort of person who tries a challenge. I think (and I'm not just saying this because I'm that sort of person) that people who sign up for life have a way better ride.

If you took on the challenge and you succeeded, congratulations, I bet some of you didn't know if you could do it or not, and I bet you surprised yourself in the best way possible. The esteemed Mr. Franklin Habit has once again made us a beautiful gold medal, and once again, it has a vaguely naked man on it which was frankly, more than I had hoped for.   He's even made two sizes.. so you can use it for all your purposes.

Take it, use it (please, please, please save it to your own server and don't hotlink) and put it on anything (or anyone) you want. The image is Franklin's property and he says the following "I made this medal at your invitation for everyone to enjoy, to celebrate their accomplishments. They should feel free to use the downloadable versions to their hearts' content. I only ask that the image not be used to prepare items for sale." Should you feel the need, Franklin's also whacked the image on a bunch of stuff in his Cafepress shop.

Tomorrow I'll be giving you an email address that you can send your name to so that you can be entered for a prize and a certificate, I'm just wrestling an auto-respond thingie to the ground first. (That's something I learned from the last Knitting Olympics challenge. 4000 knitters is a lot of email.) Stand by. In the meantime, maybe get a cup of tea and sit yourself down, and click through to the athlete's page. This list of Athletes shows everyone who took part in the Knitting Olympics, and if they have a blog, you can click on their name and go have a look. There's some great stories there. While you're there, if you'd like to thank David for hosting that page and help him cover his bandwidth costs (again, 4055 knitters is a lot of knitters) he's got a little tip jar at the bottom of the page that he didn't even tell anybody about, that's how classy he is. (Sorry David, had to point it out. Thanks for your help buddy.)

Thanks to all of you, even the knitters who just watched and participated that way. A personal knitting challenge is both noble and dorky, and it's easier not to go it alone. I'm grateful for the sense of community, and not just because I didn't want to be the only dork doing it. It was a great Olympics, both knitterly and not. I had a wonderful time. Thanks for playing.

Full Coverage at Eleven

Hello Bob, and welcome to our Olympic Knitting Coverage. Some wonderful stories out there about courageous knitters, overcoming odds and surprising even themselves with their outstanding performances.

That's so true Jim, absolutely. We've seen some incredible things in the last 15 days, but today we're going to talk about a story out of Toronto, where Stephanie Pearl-McPhee is desperately trying to figure out how she's going to finish. We're hearing from so pretty good sources, that doesn't look good, in fact, there's a rumour on the streets out there that her husband Joe is expecting an all-nighter really soon.

I know Bob, that's what we've been hearing too. Near as we can tell, Stephanie is coming in behind the pace at every checkpoint. At the halfway point she wasn't halfway, then she should have checked in with finished sleeves, and really.. frankly, just didn't have the sleeves at all.

That's true Jim, and worst of all, this is an athlete that we all had really high hopes for, and it's just insult to injury that she's coming in so late without any real reason. We've been all over this athlete, trying to figure out what the problem is with this year. She's had no injuries, no equipment failures -

Hold on Bob, that's not strictly true. She did have to have a serious hunt for a set of 3.5mm needles that she turned out not to use at all, having seen the competition move to circulars far beyond that point... she lost some significant time there. That said, if an athlete fails to prepare, that's not an equipment failure. It's not like her needles broke or she ran out of yarn.

I know Jim, I'm just trying to figure out what's going on. We caught up with Stephanie this morning - she wasn't hard to find really, considering that she's trying to make up time by sitting around in her gnome jammies, drinking coffee and knitting her arse off throughout the first part of today's competition, and all she could offer us as an explanation was a series of pictures from yesterday.

Those pictures are here now Bob, and they're stunning. I mean, it would appear that Stephanie is really busting a move. In the photos we can see that she's adapting well to changing conditions.

She really is. Having suffered a setback early in competition when she had to combine chart knitting with travel and a a social engagement and failed to make any good time that evening, yesterday when she was presented with more travel and an appointment that she couldn't shift, Stephanie took a bold step and completely abandoned the first sleeve, since it was at the chart phase, and began the second sleeve for the afternoon.

She did, she really did. Now, it's not often you'll see a knitter do that - she's really taking a chance here. Beginning the first sleeve before you've finished the second one means that there's a possibility, we'll hope it's slim, that both sleeves can be screwed up the same way.

I think this knitter can handle that though Jim, she's done it before, in fact more than once in training we've heard her say that if both sleeves match it can't be an error.... that in fact at that point it becomes a "design feature" and there are plenty of judges who agree.

True, absolutely. We saw some real commitment from her yesterday, knitting while she was walking- despite some really cold temperatures.

We know that all athletes knit more slowly while their fingers are frozen, but Stephanie pointed out that "slow knitting is better than no knitting" and it's that kind of attitude that might make this possible.

We saw her downtown too, navigating some traffic, snow and humanity obstacles..

the only trouble yesterday was that no matter how hard this knitter tries she always slows down a little over the "stout moguls".

It's true, it really is, but we know this knitters position on this.

We sure do Jim We sure do- and as a matter of fact the entire Canadian team has backed her up on the beer thing. Seems as though they all believe that the short term time loss involved in drinking a pint is totally worth the speed they pick up on the other side - and I don't think I can argue. It's certainly cut this team's injury rate.

That's right, and by injury rate, we don't mean that we're preventing injuries in the athletes...

No, no. By injury rate we mean the rate at which knitter's are injuring others.

Agreed.

Well, I don't know where that leaves us with Stephanie. There are two more days to go in this event, and really we're yet to see a finished sleeve from this knitter, the steeking lies ahead, and I can't imagine where she thinks she's getting the time for making up or executing a colourwork neckband.

I don't either Bob, and she's starting to look really sullen and exhausted today, and she was overheard a little while ago saying "What about the way I'm knitting right now makes you think I care about lunch?" which is pretty snippy for this knitter. I counted five cups of coffee before noon and she's got a-non knitting appointment this afternoon that just might be more of a penalty than she can handle...but this knitter has surprised us before. She's going to need the performance of a lifetime. I hope she gets it.

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(Ps. Me and a whack of other Toronto knitters will be on CBC radio's GO! tomorrow morning, give a listen if you like.)

PPS. The closing ceremony celebration is being planned for Sunday evening at around 7:30 at the Old York (Niagara and Wellington) in Toronto. If you'd like to come, let me know in an email (stephanieATyarnharlotDOTca) just so that they can prep for the right number of knitters. I'll be there, celebrating the last day of these wonderful Canadian Olympics, whether I've got a new sweater or not.

Does anyone else hear a whistle

There is light at the end of the tunnel, as right this minute, as of about 10 minutes ago, I finally finished the body of my Olympic sweater.

Finally. It took two more days of fingerbending knitting than I thought, but it is done. It totally slowed me down that the front and back are different. (It also might be longer than I wanted, but I always think sweaters are going to be too long until you have to put them on over breasts.) This leaves five days to knit the sleeves, and I have never been happier to have stumpy little arms than I am right now. I'm proud to have managed it so quickly, and doubly proud that I am right now not telling you that I always intended for it to be a vest. I'm relieved that it's done, and I finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. I might really have bitten off more than I can chew though, and part of me thinks that maybe that light is an oncoming train. Another part of me wonders if it's delusional that I haven't given up. Sleeves are fast.. right?

How's yours going?

Halfway you say

Yesterday equaled another setback, not one caused by a dumb mistake (thank goodness- I do have a shred of self esteem to protect) but by life, and I didn't get near enough done last night to feel okay about my progress.

I'm at the colourwork part, and as always, the set up rows are the hardest. This sweater has a mirrored pattern, rather than a repeating one, and that means that the colour rounds aren't simple and straightforward, like they would be in Fair Isle. There's no "5 black, 1 white, 5 black, 1 white, 5 black, 1 white..." where you could memorize and carry on around. Instead it's more like 5 black, 1 white, 7 black, 1 red, 3 black, 1 white, 9 black, 1 white... so all of a sudden I'm rather slavishly attached to the chart, and can't carry on conversation or knit on the bus. Realizing this last night while taking the bus and then trying to carry on conversation made it painfully clear. I am only glad that I gave up, rather than knit poorly. Moral and time wise, it's easier to be behind than to be arsed up and have to pull back. I quit while I was ahead, but that means that in today's assessment, I've got a problem. I wanted to be halfway by the halfway point, and that means that the body should be done by tomorrow, and I should be starting the sleeves. (I've allowed half the time for the body, half for the sleeves and a spare day for steeking, sewing up and finishing.) For that to happen now, I need at least one of the following to occur. (Maybe two. Trying to be flexible.)

- The orbit of the earth could be shifted to allow for a 28 hour day. I realize this could be both difficult and inconvenient for the other denizens of the planet, not to mention it's effect on clock radios worldwide. Not caring much. It's a temporary request.

- Human physiology (or just mine, actually) could be altered to allow high functioning on less than 4 hours sleep.

- Red wine needs to become a performance enhancing drug. (Also, free.)

- My family needs to have no requirements of me for the next several days. This includes (but is not limited to) no cooking, cleaning or - frankly - interacting.

- At a bare minimum, the phrase "I'm counting" needs to come to be understood clearly. It means "I need to focus right now, my little poppets and IS NOT a trigger to shout random numbers to try and screw me up, no matter how funny that is in your head. I don't have time for your shenanigans. Get off it.

- Proper interpretation and use of the word "crisis". The fact that your sister touched your new mascara after you told her not to is not really my problem or a crisis. Go upstairs and work it out. Don't come back down here unless someone is bleeding or on fire.

- I need to rise above the human need for food and drink. In this context, eating is a time suck.

If you possess the personal or supernatural powers to influence any of these matters, please notify me immediately. Just not while I'm counting.

Get Smart

Premise: Knitting a fancy-pants sweater in 17 days is only possible if I observe certain rules of knitting.

Rule 1: Be smart. This is no time for mistakes, especially preventable errors that can be entirely fended off if I use simple strategies that I should know really well.

How's that going? Well. Considering that the first thing I did with this sweater was perform, to absolute perfection, the "Not-Long-Enough-Tail Cast On" I don't think I can lay claim to having worked that out very well.

Solution: Er.. get smarter? (Must work on alternate solution.)

Rule 2: Pay attention. There is no time for mistakes here, and a knitter hoping to do something that can barely be done in 17 days really can't have to do things over and hope to take gold. Check, check and triple check.

How's that going? Well. See for yourself. Turns out that after I'd had recovered from the minor blow of casting on wrong, I devastated myself by doing the following.

That there would be a picture I took of my proudly completed first chart of the sweater, which would all be ducky if I hadn't knit it with bronze instead of white. Realizing that (after I took the picture) actually made me do a dance of rage in my hotel room- since my fury was so complete that it needed physical release, not just the standard verbal obscenities thrown at yarn.

Solution: Oh, I don't %^&*%$#ing know. Probably the same as "get smarter" and just as bloody likely.

Rule 3: Knit everywhere. There's almost no chance this is possible without taking advantage of every minute free to me. This is a secret of productive knitters- even snatched minutes here and there add up.

How's that going? Well. It was going pretty well. I was knitting in the Seattle airport, chugging along, having put enough yarn for the trip home into my carry on.

I knit on the short flight from Seattle to Vancouver, coming to the end of my ball of black yarn while I was there. I went into my bag for another one, and immediately discovered (although I rifled the bag for a long time before I could believe it was true, my heart pounding the whole time) that I had only packed the secondary colours. Extra white, red and bronze - no black. I was absolutely dizzy until I remembered that I'd have a chance to redeem myself. When you pass from the US to Canada at Vancouver, you have to collect your bags after Canada customs, and recheck them to carry on. This gave me an awesome (if misunderstood) opportunity to open my luggage in the baggage area, snag some black yarn (all of it, since I was risking nothing) and repack my bags. As I said, if the stares of onlookers were any indication, this was misunderstood as a luggage activity, but what the hell. It's the Olympics. Things have to be done.

Solution: Er, see rule 1 again.

Since then, I've had no further setbacks. (I know that you don't expect many setbacks when all you have to do is knit 30cm of black stockinette in the round, but I'm still pleased. I knit on the plane on the way home.

I knit on the bus running errands,

I knit on the subway,

I knit in the car, both day:

and night.

This morning. I'm ready to start the fancy charts,

Gonna keep working on that Rule #1.

Samantha, Sweet Sixteen

The year Samantha was 15, it looked like this.

I can't wait to see sixteen. I love you Sam. Happy Birthday.

Waiting for the Torch

The Olympic motto is (I bet you all know) Citius, Altius Fortius - which translates into Faster, Higher, Stronger, and it's all I can think today, while I sit here with my suitcase full of yarn and a big plan, waiting for the Olympics to begin so I can cast on, and I know that at least 2000 of you (because that's how many knitters have signed up in the last 48 hours) are waiting too.. and I bet that like me, you're having trouble explaining this urge. It isn't that I like crazy knitting stuff (ok. It isn't that I just like crazy knitting stuff) and it isn't (just) that I like a big plan (which I do.)

It's that really love the idea of an epic, once every four years. A chance to find out what you're made of. A chance to find out what can be done in a few short days. A chance to find out that you're a way, way better knitter than you thought you were, and a chance to find out that you're pretty amazing, actually - all while you watch other humans do their best too. It's not like I really equate being an alpine skier at the Olympics to knitting a sweater in 17 days, but truth be told, it does make me feel just a little kinship. The next 17 days will be the culmination of a lot of practicing, hopes and work for a lot of athletes from all over the world, and there I'll be, making the most of my skills right alongside of them, challenging myself, just like them - and as crazy as it seems, it makes me feel sort of supportive and a part of things. What follows is a reposting of the original Knitting Olympics pledge.

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Today, thousands of knitters stand sit poised to knit their way to greatness. For most of us, this is a close as we are going to come to they Olympics...Welcome to knitting as a personal sport.

A sport is defined as a physically and mentally challenging activity carried out with a recreational purpose for competition, for self-enjoyment, to attain excellence, for the development of a skill or for some combination of these traits.

Today -when the opening ceremonies begin, or while you watch the Olympic flame being lit in Vancouver (I'm starting as the torch is lit) these thousands of sporting knitters will all lift their needles and begin a personal epic, an odyssey of excellence, and a phenomenal period of seventeen whole days in which they will strive to improve themselves as knitters, however they personally define it. These knitters, having created their own challenges, pay tribute to the real athletes who (inexplicably) find their greatness in ways other than those of wool.

It is my greatest pleasure to imagine a wave of energy released at that time, streaming through the world, rushing poignantly from the needles of women and men of excellence paying homage to the old and mighty idea of challenge elevating the human spirit.

It is not whether you fail or knit. It is not whether you get a sweater or you simply learn what wonder you can achieve when you think about knitting for seventeen days. It is the magic of the combined effort of thousands of knitters all making the smallest of movements with their hands, adding up to the greatest epic of craftspeople all knitting for one goal, at one time, ever known.
(Cue the music...)

The Knitting Olympics Athletes Pledge

I, a knitter of able hands and quick wits, to hereby swear that over the course of these Olympics I will uphold the highest standard of knitterly excellence.

I will be deft of hand and sure of pattern, I will overcome troubles of yarn overs and misplaced decreases. I will use the gifts of intelligence and persistence (as well as caffeine and chocolate) and I will execute my art to the highest form, carrying with me the hope for excellence known to every knitter.

I strive to win. To do my best, and to approach the needles with my own best effort in mind, without comparing myself to my fellow knitters, for they have challenges unique to them.

While I engage in this pursuit of excellence and my own personal, individual best, I also swear that I will continue to engage with my family in conversation, care for my pets, speak kindly with those who would ask me to do something other than knit, and above all, above every stitch thrown or picked, above every cable, every heel stitch, every change of colour, I swear this:

That I will remember that this is not the real Olympics, that I'm supposed to be having fun and that my happiness and self-worth ride not on my success....
but on my trying.

Let the games begin!