Wendy Bernard's Blog, page 3

New Class on Creativebug!

I'm so happy to announce another class by me that is now available on Creativebug. This time, I show you how to make some cute pom pom socks. These make perfect gifs, the project is portable and they're super quick to knit. I was just there filming a handful of classes, and this is one of the five that we made. I believe that they're releasing one a month, so stay tuned for more.

One of the great things about Creativebug is that you can get unlimited classes for only $4.95 a month. There are a lot of knitting, crochet, sewing, quilting--even illustration and painting classes.

So check it out! There's even a way to try two weeks free!

Now I Can Focus on Knitting

Before I knit anything of substance, I sewed. My first project was a Hawaiian-print bikini out of regular cotton. It was a horrible idea, obviously, but when you're 12 and they haven't even begun to sell blow dryers at the store, cotton makes a heck of a lot of sense.

Now that I knit and knit and knit--now mostly for work--it feels good to have a go-to project that isn't related to knitting.

In this case, I chose to hand sew a skirt from Alabama Chanin. You've probably seen this sort of thing around online, and I drank the Kool-aid. Boy, oh boy, it took a lot of time, but once I finished all the panels and sewed it all up, it became so very much worth every moment. Hand sewing reminds me a lot of knitting. Why? Well, it's not a quick fix. And when you're finally finished, there's such a huge sense of accomplishment. I enjoy using a sewing machine because I can whip up a dress in a matter of hours or even fewer, but this slower way of making something definitely has its charm. Working on this and completing this helped me slow down a LOT and savor the process.

There are a handful of books devoted to this style of hand sewing. The two that I referred to are Alabama Studio Sewing Patterns and Alabama Studio Style and Alabama Studio Sewing + Design. You can also purchase a DIY kit from the website.

This has to be the most satisfying non-knit that I have ever, ever made. It's far from perfect, but I like it anyway. Plus, it makes me happy.

Just Needed to Cleanse my Palate

There are times, when I've been knitting or designing or writing about knitting that I really, really need a break. A break from knitting.

I don't know about you, but I can only take so much of the stuff.

It isn't to say that I don't like it; I do. I really, really do, but like anything else when you "have" to knit because of a deadline or maybe because you've promised someone you'd make something for them, it honestly becomes too, too much.

When this becomes the case, what do I do? I cleanse my palate.

I've just finished the manuscript for another book. This one took just about a year (which is why I've been quiet). Now that I'm free to pursue whatever craft or activity other than cleaning or cooking or going to the gym or insert-an-activity-here-that-moms-like-me-do-who-work-at-home the last thing I want to do is knit.

Since I turned in the manuscript, I have watercolored. I have molded clay. I have sewn a couple dresses (I'll show you later), and finally, I warped my Knitter's Loom and made a nice-sized linen scarf. In TWO DAYS.

Who could knit a scarf this size in TWO days? Two DAYS. No one. I don't care if you knit continental, or Eastern, or with a fancy belt, or through the back loops. Unless you knit with yarn the size of, say, a garden hose, you cannot knit a scarf just like this in two days.

These pictures are a bit wonky, but I'm tired and HWWV isn't around to lend a hand. If you click on the one above, it will show you better detail.

Specs:

20" Ashford Knitter's Loom

7.5 Dent Ashford Heddle

Natural cotton Warp 28/2 with a couple stripes of lace weight Euroflax Linen in Cedarwood colorway

Weft is Shibui Linen in the Suit Colorway. I used less than 2 skeins.

The scarf measures about 12.5" wide and is at least 72" or longer.

TWO DAYS my friends, two days.

Now I feel like knitting again.

BTW: I let Girlfriend try it on. She reported that it was scratchy. "Oh, what she doesn't know about linen!" was all that I could think. It'll be dreamy in no time at all and last and last and last.

 

For the Love of Linen

Who doesn't love Linen Stitch?

Oh Linen Stitch, how I love thee.

Linen Stitch is a twofer. You know what I mean: You get two in one. First, you get knitting and B, you get weaving. Knitting and weaving, in my estimation is a wonderful combo. And when I knit and weave, aka Linen Stitch, I go so fast and furious that I nearly combust.

Seriously, though. It also doesn't hurt to have a little of my favorite Koigu KPPPMmmmmmm around the house. There's something about the hand-painted nature of the yarn that lends itself to a stunning fabric when knit in Linen Stitch.

If you're wondering how to knit Linen Stitch, here's how you do it in the round, as I have it here (I can't tell you what I'm making, but if you want to knit a tube-like item in Linen Stitch, here's the pattern):

Linen Stitch in the Round

(odd number of sts; 2-rnd repeat)

Rnd 1: *K1, sl 1 wyif; rep from * to last st, k1.

Rnd 2:  Sl 1 wyif, *k1, sl 1 wyif; rep from * to last st.

Repeat Rows 1 and 2 for Linen Stitch.

If there is any downside to Linen Stitch, it would be that it isn't stretchy. So, it lends itself to things that just need to be pretty, not too functional, and sit there.

P.S. Yes that is cigar smoke in the background. I promise you that I won't sell you any of those skeins on eBay. I don't like getting stinky yarn in the mail, either.

Pom Pon Etymology and it Happens to us all.

Well, they're finished. the one pair of "socks" out of many pair of socks SON (that would be Still on Needles).

My guess is, I finished them first because they're little, short ones. Those are the easier ones. The little, short ones. The other socks I have SON are regular socks, you know, the kind that are, well, you know, socks.

Remember how I only had 24 grams of yarn left and I was worrying that I'd have to steal from my second skein of Regia Design Line to make the other sock-like item?

Turns out I did need to open up that second skein. Not because I ran out of yarn with the other sock-like shortie thingy, but because I decided that they must have pom pons. There was no way around it. I just had to. 

Plus, those pom pons. Just like tap dancing, you can't frown while making a pom pon. (Or while wearing pom pons, unless you feel stupid.)

Which brings me to this: I call them pom pons. Others call them pom poms. I kinda looked it up and the original word was "pom pon" but somehow people misheard the word and started using "pom pom" which has gained ground. Did you know that?

All I know is, when I hear the word "pom pom" all I get are visions of my seventh-grade year when my friend talked me into trying out for cheerleader with her (and I made it and she didn't). Let me say this: I usually seem pretty peppy but I'm not "pom pom" peppy. Oh, those nights on the football field when I had to shake them like I meant it while the seventh-grade boys ran through a giant strip of acrylic-painted super-wide kitchen paper. Oh boy. Whew. Glad that's over. (The big strip of paper usually said something like: "Go Wild Cats, Go!")

Maybe that's why I insist on calling the tufts of happy fluff the very correct "pom pon." So, there.

Oh, and here's another surprise: Just after I took the first picture, guess what I found? 

 

Our Secret Club

I took two pictures in the past few days. 

Awhile back, I bought two skeins of Regia Design Line by Kristen Nicholas (#3314). Each one is 50 grams. That's enough for a pair of regular socks in my size.

Since it has been so warm in these parts, I couldn't imagine knitting socks because gosh knows I won't wear full socks any time soon. I mean, I took one of those very accurate online questionnaires to determine whether or not I'm 100 percent "Southern Californian." I answered every, single question honestly (well, except for how many pair of flip-flops I own. I said 3 - 4 but the truth is, I probably have more) and it came back at I'm 100 percent "Southern Californian." Oy.

That said--and I'm not saying that knitting a brief-er version of socks isn't too unpalatable based on my workload at the moment--I decided to make little tennis-y socks. You know, the ones we used to wear with pompoms on the backs.

For all you young people, yes, we used to wear them. Well, come to think of it, I didn't, but my mom did. Not sure what the pompoms were for except for maybe keeping the little socklets from slipping down your heels and into the inside of your sneakers. Back in the day, by the way, one probably needed things like pompoms to keep things from slipping down. We were seriously in need of elastic-y things. I can't tell you about how many slips I lost during dances, but let's save those stories for later.

Anyway.

So, I knit the first sock. Then, I took a good look at the leftover yarn from that first skein. Hmmm. Then, I weighed the sock that I just finished knitting.

Twenty-four grams. Twenty-four grams with all the ends woven in and cut and discarded. Deep breath.

Next move: Grab remaining yarn and weigh it. I held my breath for two days because, dang it, wouldn't you know the 9-volt battery had died in the moments between weighing the first sock and weighing the remaining yarn?

And yes, I do have a non-digital scale I use for weighing flour and such for cooking but this one is sensitive enough for a yarny geek like me to eek out the exact weight whether in ounces or in grams!

I went to the store once and came back without a battery. Why? Me being me, I got to the checker and asked if they had the batteries because I had looked but did not find one and he said he could have someone look for one. I looked at the long line of unhappy faces waiting behind me and said very politely, "No thank you. I will return another time. It's not a rush." (As if.)

Then I had an opportunity to go back again and I scored.

I ran home and inserted the new battery into unit. I weighed the remaining yarn. And this is what I got.

Twenty-four stinking grams.

You knitters know what this means.

I'm either going to have to dip into that second skein of yarn or I'm going to have to make one sock shorter than the other.

Whoever said that knitting wasn't suspenseful was lying. 

 

My Socks are Going to be Too Big

The idea of the pursuit of perfection in the time of Pinterest and Instagram and all that is on my mind lately.

When I talk to other knitters, students and artists I want to scream that it is okay to not be perfect and that it is alright to be imperfectly perfect. 

We are all imperfect and somehow embracing this imperfection is just, plain, lovely.

I want to allow myself space to just be and to enjoy the process.

Meanwhile, these socks are going to be too big.

The girl with the perfect script in her brain will allow it. 

Even though, and in spite of it all.

And yes, I did point my toes. Otherwise, you'd notice that they look a lot like Fred Flintstone's.

To Make

My grandmother Helen passed away a couple nights ago. Helen was the person who taught me to knit.

Although this is not going to be a tribute to my grandmother--gosh knows I've talked about her a lot and you all know how deep for her my feelings are--I wanted to talk about something other than knitting and purling that she taught me.

She taught me how to make.

She taught me how to make the most perfect, flaky pie crust. (It has to do with how it feels and ice water is a must.)

She taught me how to make peace. Gosh knows her husband, my grandpa Herman, spent hours in his shed each day sculpting nudes--and she didn't like it too much. She also didn't like that he displayed them in the mirrored shelves behind the bar in their mobile home--but . . . he was making stuff so it was all good.

She taught me how to make a sunny-side up egg.

She taught me that when you retire that it is okay to paint other people's pottery and get it fired than struggling to make your own from scratch. That is how she made for me my beloved nativity set.

She taught me how to make a Manhattan (although I have never consumed one).

She also taught me to cherish what other people have made. I remember seeing little items her three daughters made for her when they were school children still displayed proudly probably more than 30 years after she received them. Notably, a paper weight that my aunt Sandy made for her. It always sat on her kitchen counter. I wonder where it is now.

People ask me all the time if I have shown Girlfriend how to knit and if she likes to knit. The answer is yes to the first and the answer is no to the next.

I don't feel bad that she doesn't like to knit. But, I would feel bad if she didn't want to make.

Making things, whatever they may be, be it a happy sunny-side up egg in an old frying pan, a patchwork pillow from your child's well-used swaddling blankets, a hovercraft (my brother made one when he was Girlfriend's age--12--story to come later), a model railroad, love, peace, jokes, a macrame plant hanger, you name it, is something we need to hang onto. We need to hang onto making dearly. 

Because if we don't, then all we'll ever have to do again is hit Target and be done with it.

The End.

The Lucky Ribs Cable Cowl

There's nothing more satisfying than finding one great skein of yarn and with just that one skein, knitting up a cozy cowl that's fast, easily memorized and versatile.

The Lucky Ribs Cable Cowl pattern is both written out and charted. This means, that if you're a "chart person," you'll have a chart to follow. On the other hand, if you're a knitter who likes to read a pattern line by line, it's all written out for you, too.

This is a totally reversible cowl. You start by knitting it flat and twisting it just once and then joining the two ends together. If you don't want to join the two ends, you could easily add some fringe and make it a scarf.

As long as you can do a simple cable pattern, I'd say that this is pretty much a beginner pattern. But if this is your first time doing cables, it's more of an intermediate beginner pattern.

Here are the particulars:

FINISHED MEASUREMENTS

Approximately 6" x 45", after blocking

YARN

Imperial Yarn Erin (100% wool; 225 yards / 100 grams): 1 skein Natural #101

NEEDLES

One set straight or circular needles size US 8 (5mm). Change needles to obtain gauge!

NOTIONS

Waste yarn (optional), stitch marers, cable needle

GAUGE

Approximately 5.25 sts and 6.5 rows per inch, after blocking

Click on the button below to buy a pdf copy. It will be sent to you in a zipped PDF file via email when payment is made or eCheck clears. Thanks!

$5.00

 

Things are Not Always as They Seem and My Cap Has a Belly Button

This cap. I will not fix it I will not fix it I will not fix it I will not fix it. I will not fix it. I will not fix it. I will not fix it I will not fix it.

I really won't fix it.

You know why?

Because I like it.

There: I said it. I like it.

I don't care if the crown looks like it has a belly button or a nipple. I just like it. It was an accident so I will embrace it. It would be very, very easy to fix, but I won't fix it I won't fix it I won't fix it I won't fix it I won't fix it.

There are people who would fix it. There are people who will point to it and ask me: "Is it just me, or . . . ?"

But I won't fix it.

I like knitting caps on the fly by starting with just eight stitches and adding stitches every other round (see the spiral there?) until each piece of the pie adds up to the number of stitches that I need for the proper circumference. Personally, I like a cap that is about the same size as my head--who likes hat head?--and gosh knows, I don't need caps for warmth. So about 21" is perfect for me. The other nice thing about making caps this way is that you never need to do a gauge swatch because, as long as you like your fabric you just keep knitting and when you have enough fabric, you measure a few inches, figure out your goal number of stitches and just knit until you get there. 

Anyway, I got going and had this grand idea of cinching in the tail from the original cast on of those eight stitches because it was getting in my way. Silly me, I threaded my needle through the cast on stitches without looking at the public side of the cap and cinched it, weaved in my ends and cut the thread. When I turned it to look at the right side I thought: Hey: that looks like a belly button or a nipple. Should I fix it?

I will not fix it I will not fix it I will not fix it I will not fix it I will not fix it.

I think that we need to cut ourselves some slack when it comes to this kind of thing. Don't you?

The yarn is so pretty that no one should notice.

Not to mention, I'm good at bobbing and weaving.

Yarn: MJ Yarns. Opulent Fingering Weight in Peasant Colorway.

BTW: About the "Things are Not as They Seem" part of the title of this post. Doesn't my picture look like I'm in the snow? I'm not. I'm in my living room sitting on a chair and it's 80 degrees outside. The combo of my running pants, the white carpet and the base of my funky coffee table adds up to what I call Knitting Weather! (Even if it is a total illusion.)