At Knit's End

by Stephanie Pearl-McPhee

  at a store where the lumber has already been

  cut and attached together in the form of

  furniture, finished, and put inside boxes.

  — DAVE BARRY

  I overheard my husband telling some friends that I was not very “handy” and that the words “some assembly required” were sure trouble. Although I agree that the bookshelf incident last year was pretty ugly, I still think he’s wrong.

  I’m a knitter. My projects are the ultimate in “some assembly required.”

  A work of art is above all

  an adventure of the mind.

  — EUGèNE IONESCO

  I know this will come as a shock to some of you, but knitting is a bit of a gamble. It is possible that you can knit a swatch, wash and measure it, carefully calculate your gauge, absolutely study a pattern, execute it with patience and perfection … and still end up with something unexpected. This element of risk is what keeps the more adventurous of us knitting.

  I will try to stay connected to my cheerful sense of adventure the next time an absolutely perfect sweater grows by 3 feet the first time I wear it.

  Though we travel the world over to

  find the beautiful, we must carry it

  with us or we find it not.

  — RALPH WALDO EMERSON

  Before I leave home on a trip, I plan to see all the significant things about the location I’m traveling to. I want to make sure I see everything I can. I do research and note all the places I want to see: places of worship, historical landmarks, natural wonders, and yarn shops.

  I will resist the voice in my head that says there’s no point in traveling to an incredible European village just because they don’t sell wool there.

  I saw the angel in the marble and

  carved until I set him free.

  — MICHELANGELO

  Some knitters purchase yarn with a pattern and a plan. They buy with a specific goal, and most of it is used more or less immediately and as planned. Others talk about the yarn “telling them what it wants to be.” They buy and hoard yarns, seemingly at random, until a yarn speaks to them about its destiny. There is sometimes a lag of 20 years or more between a yarn purchase and its realization as a knitted item, although there may be several periods of swatching and “false starts.” This process cannot be rushed, or failure is certain.

  Both ways are good, but if you prefer the latter, you need way more closet space.

  True art is characterized by an irresistible

  urge in the creative artist.

  — ALBERT EINSTEIN

  Sometimes I just stare at my husband. He has lived with a knitter all these years and yet has seemingly learned nothing of our ways. He is still able to say the most ridiculous things about knitting. For example, just the other day I was showing him some beautiful blue yarn in a catalog. He actually looked at the yarn (which was 80 percent wool and 20 percent mohair) and said to me, “Don’t you already have blue yarn in the stash just like that?”

  I could scarcely believe it. The blue yarn in the stash is 70 percent wool and 30 percent mohair. He has no idea.

  I’m so misunderstood as an artist.

  Knitting, Knitting, 1, 2, 3,

  I knit the scarves for Roo and me;

  I love honey and I love tea;

  Knitting, Knitting, 1, 2, 3.

  — KATHLEEN W. ZOEHFELD

  When my mother learned that she was pregnant with me, she decided that she should learn to knit. She started with a simple yellow scarf and worked on it (and hated it) until I was born. With each successive pregnancy my mom hauled out the poor yellow scarf, and with each baby it grew by an inch or two.

  By the time my mother was having her fourth baby, I was five, and my grandmother had taught me to knit while my poor mother was still working on the yellow scarf. My grandmother came to visit one day and saw the scarf on the table. She picked it up and examined the stitches, then remarked (obviously thinking it was my work), “Well, now, that’s not bad for a five-year-old.” Mortified, my mother picked up the scarf and dropped it in the garbage.

  She has never knit again. She doesn’t mind.

  You know you

  knit too much when …

  Your nonknitting spouse

  starts trying to feign interest

  in your knitting, just so that

  you will talk to him, saying

  things such as, “So, are we

  knitting or purling?” or,

  “So how do you really feel

  about cables?”

  Geographically, Ireland is a medium-sized

  rural island that is slowly but steadily

  being consumed by sheep.

  — DAVE BARRY

  It is likely a unique hallmark of knitters that they don’t think of a country being consumed by sheep, but rather a country that is being converted to wool.

  I will recognize that it is another unique hallmark of being a knitter that this quotation alone, without knowing anything else about the country, is enough to make me want a plane ticket to Ireland.

  What Heracles said is true, O Argonauts!

  On the Quest of the Golden Fleece

  our lives and our honors depend.

  To Colchis — to Colchis must we go!

  — PADRAIC COLUM,

  The Golden Fleece and the

  Heroes Who Lived Before Achilles

  In the Greek myth of Jason and the Argonauts, Jason embarks on a heroic quest to find and retrieve the Golden Fleece. Although most of the events are rooted in mythos, the Golden Fleece itself has a historical explanation. In the Colchis region of Greece, people used to pan for gold using, you guessed it, a sheep’s fleece. The fleece was held under running water, such as a stream, and the little bits of gold would be caught in it. If you had a very successful day, you would have “a golden fleece.”

  I will try to stop thinking about what a cute evening top I could knit out of the spectacular golden yarn.

  The telephone is a good way to talk to people

  without having to offer them a drink.

  — FRAN LEBOWITZ

  For quite some time I’ve been trying to work out a really good way to knit while I’m on the phone. Right now I’m simply clenching the phone between my shoulder and head, but I make more mistakes when I’m looking at my knitting sideways. I also suspect that this practice is probably the cause of the weird muscle spasm I’ve developed that keeps suddenly and randomly twisting my head at a 45-degree angle while I’m doing other things.

  I will recognize that it is not normal to think that the bigger problem in this picture is the mistakes in my knitting, rather than the permanent inability to hold my head straight.

  Arguments are to be avoided; they

  are always vulgar and often convincing.

  — OSCAR WILDE

  Here’s a hypothetical question. If a knitter (not me, you understand) and her mate were to suddenly find themselves with more money than they were expecting, and they were discussing how best this windfall could be spent, and the knitter’s husband (not my husband, of course) had made several good points about the future, and the future of the children, would said husband be entitled to accuse the knitter in question of being “selfish” and “out of her mind” (even though the knitter makes many, many lovely knitted things for this husband and children, and hardly anything, ever, for herself) if she were to suggest that the largest part of the sum be spent on yarn?

  I didn’t think so.

  You know you

  knit too much when …

  You get your income tax

  refund in the mail and,

  despite owning almost as

  much as a modest yarn shop,

  you and your mate begin

  immediate negotiations to

  determine what portion

  of it will be spent on wool.

  The price is what you pay;

  the value is what you receive.

  — ANONYMOUS

&
nbsp; The frugal knitter will quickly develop a taste for fine wool on tiny needles. There are many, many yards in those wee balls, and it take lots and lots of tiny stitches to make anything. One hundred grams of chunky wool lasts only a few hours, but 100 grams of fingering-weight wool takes a good long time to knit up.

  I will balance my cheapskate desire to get maximum knitting time for the dollar with my desire to retain my eyesight.

  A baby is an inestimable blessing and bother.

  — MARK TWAIN

  The head of a newborn baby only appears petite and charming. Baby heads are actually really big. (Ask whoever gave birth to the baby in question.) Many knitters make the mistake of knitting a sweet little neck on baby sweaters. After years of disappointment (and near stranglings), I have finally come up with a strategy to get them right. First, knit a neck that is so big that it can’t possibly be right. You will know you are close to the first stage when you think to yourself, “that’s too big for sure.” Now add 10 percent. Then cast off very, very loosely.

  I will resist the urge to swear off childbearing and stop advising others to avoid it as well when I have to rip back this neck and add a slit and buttons to get the newborn baby’s head through.

  Nothing astonishes men so much as

  common sense and plain dealing.

  — RALPH WALDO EMERSON

  Last night while I was knitting I had a great idea. Stay with me, it’s a radical idea, and I wouldn’t want to shock anyone. What if, somehow, we had just one system of measurement for knitting needles? Would it really be so crazy if the needle I’m holding couldn’t be a 4mm, a #8 Imperial, or a #6 US, but just one of those three? What if I knew that the pattern I was reading referred only to that size, and it didn’t leave me trying to figure out which needle to use based on the country that the pattern was published in. I say we need a petition.

  When I am finished organizing the world’s system of knitting needle measurement, I will turn my attention to the equally stupid system for screwdrivers. (Do there really need to be so many kinds?)

  A friend is a second self.

  — ARISTOTLE

  There is nothing that does a knitter’s heart more good than finding a dear, dear friend who knits. There is very little that is more fun than sitting with someone who loves you, laughs at your jokes, and truly wants to have a two-hour conversation on the revelation you had about twisted ribbing.

  I will keep in mind, should I be blessed enough to find a darling friend who loves knitting as much as I do, that if we go to a yarn shop together I shouldn’t knock her down like we have never even met when I see mohair on sale.

  When your hobbies get in the way

  of your work — that’s okay;

  but when your hobbies get in the way

  of themselves … well…

  — STEVE MARTIN

  As I go sneaking up the aisle of the darkened movie theatre, I reflect that I love knitting. What other hobby can you do at the movies? Passing into the lobby, I notice an odd noise is following me, but before I can investigate, I’m suddenly on the floor, yarn wrapped around my foot. A glance back down the aisle reveals that some moron has dragged knitting up the entire length of the theatre, before it got stuck in the lobby door. Worse, that moron has left a trail of tangled yarn that leads clearly back to my seat. I endure the snickers and stares of the entire left side of the theater as I wind the yarn back up every long step of the aisle.

  Movies are prime knitting time. Take simple work you don’t need to look at; use wooden needles, so the noise doesn’t bother anyone; and for goodness sake, put your knitting away carefully before you go to the restroom.

  WHACO:

  Wool Housing and Containment Overflow

  Many knitters suffer from this common ailment, although complaints tend to be registered more often by those living with knitters. Symptoms include wool sprouting from drawers intended to hold other things, bookshelves with yarn and books alternating in disarray, and a tendency for one’s stash to burst suddenly from closets. Affected knitters also continue to purchase yarn, often at a frightening rate, despite the absolute lack of anywhere to keep it.

  Treatment involves … well, nobody has ever successfully treated it, as victims can only rarely be convinced that this much yarn is a “problem.”

  Should I fall victim to WHACO, I will appreciate that it is easier to convince my family that it requires no treatment if I can find just one wool-free room to sit in.

  The ability to simplify means to

  eliminate the unnecessary so that

  the necessary may speak.

  — HANS HOFMANN

  From time to time (well, fairly often, actually), a knitter gets her nose out of joint when a knitted gift isn’t appreciated. There is a tendency among the nonknitting to underestimate the time and expense involved in a hand-knit hat. It’s understandable. How could they know? I suggest the following: from now on, using your stitch and row gauge and the size of the finished item, calculate the approximate number of stitches that you knit to create the item.

  I can appreciate that a tag reading “These socks contain 20,000 stitches, each lovingly handmade” would shut up Uncle Bob pretty quick.

  The beginning is the most important

  part of the work.

  — PLATO

  There are about 30 ways to cast on in knitting. Long tail, provisional, cable, crochet, backward loop … the mind reels. They all have their merits. Some are solid, some are stretchy, some leave you ready to work a right-side row, and some look better with ribbing. The wise knitter learns several and uses each to its best advantage.

  I accept that even though there are myriad possibilities for casting on, somehow for each pattern there is still only one right number to cast on.

  Like religion, politics, and family planning,

  cereal is not a topic to be brought up in

  public. It’s too controversial.

  — ERMA BOMBECK

  There rages a debate between those who admire acrylic yarns, citing durability, washability and nonscratchiness, and those who fall firmly in the wool camp. They cite the warmth and softness of wool and the pleasure of working with something that comes from the natural world. I have learned that this subject is too volatile to bring up in public, as the conversation can end with hurt feelings and phrases such as “yarn snob” being bandied about, no matter which yarn you profess to prefer.

  I can promise, in the interest of peace, that if I ever divulge a fellow knitter’s fiber choice, I will immediately follow it with the statement “Not that there’s anything wrong with that.”

  An expert is a person who has made

  all the mistakes that can be made in

  a very narrow field.

  — NIELS BOHR

  I knew a woman who had been knitting for more than 65 years, and I, in the infancy of my serious knitting obsession, was looking for a mentor. I figured that this woman would be perfect; she was kind and patient and had to know everything there was to know about knitting. I was absolutely shocked to discover that she knew very little about the world of knitting. She knew one cast on, one cast off, one way to increase, and one way to decrease. She knew them better than anyone had ever known them, but her experience was limited. I realized that she had been using the same few techniques and patterns her whole life. Despite her age and experience, she was not an “expert,” except at her own few techniques.

  I will realize that it is a knitter’s willingness to try new things and make mistakes that creates an “expert,” not just the years of experience.

  A man is not idle because he is absorbed

  in thought. There is visible labor and

  there is invisible labor.

  — VICTOR HUGO

  I know knitters who feel guilty for sitting and knitting when they should be “working.” What, I ask you, about knitting does not qualify as work? It is productive, it is thrifty, it is creating useful items for fellow humans, and it is a thoug
htful and enlightening use of the intellect. True, it’s not as exciting as doing the laundry, but really, what is?

  Should I feel pangs of guilt, I will remember that just because something is fun doesn’t mean it’s a waste of time.

  You know you

  knit too much when …

  You seek out forms of

  exercise that you can do

  while knitting, such as

  riding a stationary bike.

  Out of the strain of the Doing,

  Into the peace of the Done.

  — JULIA LOUISE WOODRUFF

  There is nothing I can tell the nonknitter that explains the joy of a finished object. Running your hands over a beautiful sweater that you, yourself changed from useless yarn to a lovely garment with two pointed sticks and your cleverness … it’s like knowing a fancy magic trick. It’s an homage to your intelligence and patience and a moment of real and profound pride.

  Even though I am very excited that I have finished this sweater, I will resist the urge to go next door and show it to my neighbors. Last time they weren’t as impressed as I thought they would be.

  To save time, take time to check gauge.

  — EVERY KNITTING PATTERN EVER WRITTEN

  There are those knitters who believe that gauge is a vital component of knitting. They take time to check it at the beginning of every project, and they have a stack of swatches to prove it. For their diligence they are rewarded with garments of predictable size and shape. Then there are the rest of us, who occasionally take risks with gauge, neglect swatches, and live on the edge. For our lack of diligence, we are credited with inventing the “cowl neck” sweater.

  If I neglect gauge, I will gracefully accept the consequences.

  You know you

  knit too much when …

  Your friends, who cheerfully

  used to call you an “enabler”

  when you encouraged them

  to purchase yarn, have

  started calling you a

  “pusher.”

  Let’s have some new clichés.

  — SAMUEL GOLDWYN

  Despite what we knitters know to be true, the nonknitting world somehow persists in thinking that a “knitter” looks a certain way. Most likely, this picture is one of an elderly woman, grandmotherly and polite, sitting in her rocking chair surrounded by homemade cookies and accompanied by a certain number of cats.