Lovikka Mittens from Three Bags Full - Day 5

S-mitten...

Oh my goodness, aren’t they lovely?  They fit my hand beautifully.  I’m really glad I opted for a flatter, kitchener tip that suits my long fingers.  I can’t stop looking at the clever channeled cuff, imagining those decorative stitches that go in there next.  If I ever loose one of these, there will be no consoling me.  

Yes, they’re snug, but I’ve decided I like them far too much to ever give them away.  I’m even contemplating a second pair out of some colorful alpaca I was given last year in Indianapolis.  I'll widen those up a little so that they're uber-warm and lofty.

These are my best thumbs yet.  Evolutionary, I'll go so far as to say.  Thumb attachments are a tricky business.  They’re like that pesky little gap when you start to turn a sock heel.  All the stitches ought to meet without gaps, but I can never seem to make it happen to my satisfaction.  I invariably end up ensuring there’s a long tail on the thumb cast-on so I can go around with a needle and sew up all those rogue holes.  I tell you, they pop up like some kind of fibrous game of Whack-A-Mole.  Only the truly ninja-knitters nail it.   Like the sock heel nexus (is that the right word for where everything comes together?), when picked up stitches line up in perfection, you know you’re looking at the work of a master.

Okay, so these are not masterful.  They are even a tad rustic, and I probably would have never picked them out in a store.  And yet, I love them just the same, because I made them.  That crafting gave me time and opportunity to appreciate their fine design, their fit, and their warmth.

So no, you can’t have them...but I’m oh-so flattered you asked.

Next up, we apply the decorative stitching!

Lovikka Mittens from Three Bags Full - Day 3

Mittens aren’t exactly linear.

  

Unlike socks, where the knitter starts at either the top or bottom and just plows on through, Mittens always need a detour for the thumb.  Gusset or set in--I’ve done both--they always mean knitters need to circle back and enclose the thumb.  

This only enforces the basic truth of sock, glove, and mitten knitting:  reaching an end doesn’t mean you’re done.  Either you’ve reached the end of the hand and you’ve got a thumb to go; or worse yet--you’ve finished the left and you’ve still got the right to go.

Which brings me to an embarrassing admission.  I’m not sure how it happened, but in following the directions for a left mitten I somehow ended up with a right.  I think it had to do with how I handled the fingertip end--I don’t like round-ended mittens so I opted to kitchener stitch it up.  I find the kitchner stitch gives the right balance between a pointed/flat mitten tip and the bunchy drawstring approach.  I suspect this foible means I need to be extra careful which stitches I kitchener (is that a verb?) next.

The fit--even if it is snug--is very nice.  A tailored, close-fitting mitten that doesn’t bunch up or make it impossible to grasp your car keys.  Well done!

Two extra bonuses today:

1) "Colin Smith" and "Gina", according to the trusty random math at Random.org, each of you has won a copy of an Erica O’Rourke novel from our February Authors Who Knit feature--please email me at allie [at] alliepleiter [dot] com with your snail mail address so we can arrange for shipment

2) Here, for your viewing pleasure, is a little non-fiber art: a shot of me at the Chicago Auto Show in a car decorated entirely by Sharpie markers.

Knit Along: Knit Nook Knick Knack Sack - Day 4

The unsung heroes of knitting...

We visit two of knitting’s cleverest characters today, both of which are crucial to this project.  Behold the Kitchener stitch and the i-cord.

Sock knitters--especially the top-down variety, have probably made friends with the Kitchener stitch by now.  I was first introduced to it by the esteemed Elizabeth Zimmermann, who needs no more introduction than the initials EZ in most yarn circles.  In the cheeky tone for which she was famous, EZ called it “the dreaded Kitchener stitch.”  I suppose that forced me to approach it with the reverence it is due--for it is a dandy little trick--but it also wasn’t anywhere near as dreadful as EZ made it sound.  A bit counter-intuitive perhaps, but when explained well, it’s not too bad.  One of my favorite explanations came in our Crafty Hands Fingering Weight Socks pattern (from Bowling Green KY and known for introducing us to the tiny Hiya-Hiya circs).  It’s particular virtue is that if done correctly, it disappears into a seamless join of two pieces of knitting.  In short, it’s how our little bag gets its bottom.  I’m still in search of a rhyme or poem that can help me remember the four-part sequence without having to look it up all the time.

I-cord is a wonderful thing.  I’m convinced that had I time to whip all the left-over yarn in my stash into i-cord, I’d never need to buy another yard of ribbon.  Essentially three stitches knit into a column by two dpn’s, i-cord can be trim, drawstring (as it is in this case), edging, and there’s even a trick for using it to bind two pieces of knitting together if you’d like your seam to stand out instead of disappear.  

Ha!  Did you see that?  I made our two subjects relate to each other.  Us authors can do clever idea-wrangling like that.

We’re close to the finish line on this one.  Remember to leave a comment so you can win!