Great new knitalong starts today over at Fringe Association. We are IN on this thing.

Mason-Dixon Mailbag

Mason-Dixon Mailbag

Dear Kay, Much has happened since last we co-posted the entire history of our lives: Clif’s first soccer game. (Half the team decided to hang on the sideline, citing fear of the opposing team, but Fella was out there showing a surprising level of spunk.) Ninety-sixth birthday party for Hubbo’s grandfather, Big Daddy. Tennessee Titans professional routing of the loathsome Oakland Raiders. I’m a wreck. Foremost, of course, is my...

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The Trouble with Markers

The Trouble with Markers

Dear Kay, Look, ma, no hands! After the first Birch repeat I took out all the markers because they were screwing up the tension–one diagonal line of stitches was larger than the rest. Ecch! The markers were crucial for the first repeat–I knew I could never get more than ten stitches out of whack as long as I had the markers. But once I saw the full pattern, I didn’t need them anymore. Crutches, and fiddly as all get out. I...

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Tale of Three Birches

Tale of Three Birches

Dear Kay, In the Samuel Pepys tradition of excruciating detail, here is where I stand on my Birch shawl. Attempt Numero Uno As Kenny Rogers says, you gotta know when to fold ‘em. Something felt really wrong, after one lousy row. Wrong wrong wrong. Attempt the Second Ah, folly! Ah, youth! Why did I think that blindly knitting along for a while would result in lovely rows of airy birch leaves? Why did I not consider the following? Kidsilk...

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REMAIN CALM.

Dear Ann, How can I put this? STEP AWAY FROM THE KIDSILK HAZE. The last time I knit lace, it was a simple picot edging on the Brittany Jumper from Jil Eaton’s Minnowknits series, for my little friend Baby Rose. An 8-stitch repeat, over a couple of hundred stitches around the bottom of the skirt. First I had the terrible twisted-join problem, which almost made me take the pledge never to knit in the round again. I would only realize...

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Next Idea: Knitting with Wire

Dear Kay, While you’re out there eating hot dogs and having tender summery moments with your darlings, I have been sitting in the hook-up line at Mr. Seven’s school waiting to pick him up. On any other day this would be a happy little half hour for me, clicking away at some easy little project while watching for the fella to show up. But today, the first day of school, I sat steamily futzing with Birch. I have never had such a time...

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My Head I Bangeth Against the Wall

My Head I Bangeth Against the Wall

Dear Kay, I am struck how very like a voodoo doll ol’ Splash looks as I pin up that last sleeve. I promise not to post any more pictures of this until I’m WEARING it–it’s not like this is some 31-color Starmore Fair Isle. “Gee, Ann. Great stockinette.” In another, more dreadful direction, I have begun the Birch knitalong that so many of our fellow Rowanettes are cursing through over at the Rowan International...

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