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The Knitting Olympics, Part 7
The Knitting Olympics, Part 6
A couple of days ago, I received an email about an opportunity…and not an opportunity involving a business partner in Nigeria, or an opportunity having something to do with the U.K. Lottery…this was a legitimate opportunity. One I was really intrigued by, and which made me totally abandon my Knitting Olympics project so I could devote some time to learning more about this exciting new possibility.
Further investigation left me somewhat disappointed, because it turns out I’m pretty unqualified for the thing being proposed, but I started filling out the online application, just because I was curious to see what sort of questions they’d ask.
So, I filled out the first screen of questions, and clicked “Next” to continue with the application. But instead of a new screen of questions, what popped up was “Congratulations! You have successfully applied for…” (…this thing for which you have no qualifications!)
I had one of those horrified moments that I have whenever the internet betrays me. Like “Next” shouldn’t mean an application has been submitted! To submit an application, you should have to click on something obvious. Like “Submit”!
At that point I realized that I desperately wanted to recommit myself to the Knitting Olympics. It’s like I had a totally sped-up version of the whole “Let’s learn to play the violin/No, let’s not” routine that I wrote about in my last post.
Except the application is still hanging over my head. I’m supposed to get a response in a couple of weeks (can’t wait!) In the meantime, my chances of medalling in the Knitting Olympics are looking better than ever.
(I should mention that the opportunity is not job-related, and doesn’t involve money. There is nothing at stake here except my self-esteem.)
The Knitting Olympics, part 5
It’s all going so well, really. The sleeve I was worried about? It and its mate seem more-or-less OK now.
And here:
Those are the front sections seamed to the back section at the shoulders. Stitches have been picked up, and the hood has been started. The hood is 11 inches of stockinette stitch with a simple cable at each edge. That’s easy knitting. Then there’s just the buttonband and the finishing.
So why do I have this fidgety feeling of unease? Of wrongness? I finally put my finger on it today. It’s all happening too fast. Other knitters might be meant to finish a sweater in 17 days, but me? No. I’m supposed to take a minimum of six months to knit any project bigger than a hat. When something problematic looms, like picking up 308 stitches for a buttonband, that’s my cue to stop, put down the project, and turn my attention to something else, like learning to play the violin. (That’s just an example. I’m not really learning to play the violin.)
Then, for the next five months, I’ll saw away at the violin until the day when I get enormously frustrated because: why did I ever think I could learn violin?! I’ve never been musical! Never! And in the midst of berating myself for my lack-of-violin-playing skills, something will stir in the back of my brain. 308 stitches! Buttonband! And I’ll drop the violin and return to the knitting.
The problem with the 17 day timeframe of the Knitting Olympics is that it does not allow me enough time to 1) decide to learn to play the violin, and 2) decide that I’m never going to learn to play the violin. These two steps are critical to my knitting success.
The Knitting Olympics, Part 4
I do! I have a strategy. I’ve been thinking ahead to the finishing of my sweater…the blocking, the seaming, the picking up of stitches for the button band (even though there are no buttons). I sort of dread these steps, and would usually deal with them by putting the unfinished project aside for a couple of years, but this time that’s not an option, since I’m going for the gold and all. So instead of waiting and dreading, I decided to be proactive and, last night, I went ahead and blocked the back and fronts of my sweater.
Emma heard that there was an area on the sweater back that needed extra blocking attention. Is this the place? Right here?
Yeah, Emma. That’s great.
Meanwhile, I worked on the first sleeve, thinking that when the sleeves were done, I’d block them, and could (while they were drying) return to the back/front sections, where I’d seam the shoulders and start working on the hood.
It still seems like a decent plan but, after knitting on this sleeve during the Olympics last night — and maybe not paying enough attention to the knitting (because, you know, women’s half-pipe, men’s figure-skating), I’m worried that there might be a problem.
That sleeve cap looks very narrow to me. Is it supposed to look like that? (This is where my sweater inexperience really shows.) Blocking will widen it some, but enough? Maybe the super-blocking-powers of Emma will save it?
To sum up: at this stage of the Knitting Olympics, I have some concerns.
The Knitting Olympics, Part 3
It turns out that just watching the Olympics is something of an endurance test (on the west coast, NBC’s prime-time Olympics’ coverage starts at 8:00 and doesn’t end until midnight most nights). Add knitting to the mix, and it’s like one of those combined sports…I’m thinking of the one where skiers ski through a blizzard and then shoot at stuff. (OK, they’re not shooting at “stuff,” they’re shooting at targets.)
Last night, sitting on the couch, trying to keep my eyes open until the very last figure skater had performed his short program, while simultaneously working the bind-off of a sweater shoulder, I felt like: those skiers and me? Aren’t we more alike than we are different? Aren’t we all digging deep within ourselves for the perseverance, the grit, and the determination needed to achieve our goals? To do our best? To go for the gold?
It’s true that I can’t ski through a blizzard and shoot at stuff (targets) (and they, quite possibly, can’t knit), but those are just details.
P.S. Staying awake long enough to see Takahiko Kozuka of Japan skate to Jimi Hendrix’s “Bold as Love” was SO worth it.
The Knitting Olympics, Part 2
Lookie here!
I finished the back of my Central Park Hoodie. (The neck stitches are being held on a stitch holder, and I haven’t fastened off the yarn.) Getting the back done feels like making it through the qualifying round of the moguls, or something. But with fewer blown-out knees.
Tangentially: I was horrified at the number of knee injuries some of these skiers have suffered. One has had six surgeries, three on each knee. I’ve always been a little ashamed of being so risk-averse (such a nice way of saying I’m a great big sissy), but now I’m thinking it has its advantages. Such as: my number of knee surgeries? Zero. Also though? My number of Olympic medals? Zero.
Anyway. Returning to my analogy of the qualifying round. Finishing the back of my sweater is just the beginning. The big test is still ahead. But I’m staying in the moment, letting my training do its work, and performing my routine the same way I’ve done a thousand times before. No big deal.
The games have begun! Here’s where I’m at:
This is the back of my Central Park Hoodie. I have this idea that if I’m to have any hope at all of finishing my sweater by the end of the Olympics, that I have to have the back done by the end of this weekend. That means I should stop writing, and get back to knitting.
But, before that, a list of some of my favorite opening-ceremony moments:
1. The First Nations’ dancers dancing during the opening song (”Bang the Drum”) by Bryan Adams and Nelly Furtado.
2. The illusion of orcas swimming across the stadium floor. That was magical.
3. The aerial performance during Joni Mitchell’s song, “Both Sides, Now”.
4. kd lang singing Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah.” When the holographic doves flew up at the end, I thought of the tragic death of luger Nodar Kumaritashvili. It couldn’t have been planned that way, because how were they to know? But it was a beautiful song, beautifully performed, and ended up seeming especially poignant under the circumstances.
The Knitting Olympics is the brainchild of Stephanie Pearl-McPhee of yarnharlot fame. The idea: pick a challenging (to you) project, cast-on when the Olympic flame is lit, then knit, knit, knit for the 17 days of the Olympic competition, and have your project done by the time the Olympic flame is extinguished.
Stephanie ran the Knitting Olympics for the first time during the 2006 Winter Olympics, and put out the challenge again last Friday for the 2010 Winter Olympics. Who’s in? she asked.
I am! My chosen project: the hugely popular Central Park Hoodie, designed by Heather Lodinsky, from the fall, 2006 issue of knitscene magazine (www.knitscene.com).
Do I really think I can finish this in 17 days? I’m not sure. It’s a lot more likely than me landing a triple axel, I can promise that much.
I swatched:
Emma is also getting ready. Here she is doing her pull-ups. She does 100 of these every day.
Now we’re just waiting for Friday.
Oh, such optimism I had, way back here when I showed off a bunch of purse patterns, and promised finished purses to come. Where are the finished purses? Unfortunately, they exist only in my head.
Here’s what happened (as Monk says). While preparing to cut fabric for a project, I went to pick up a rotary-cutting ruler from my splintery floor. In the process, I drove not one, but two slivers under my fingernails. Which was not really a career-ending injury, but it did immediately lead to one of those I-have-just-had-it moments (amidst all the OW, OW, OWs), and lo! Another UFO was born.
Because I have not touched that project since. Or any other sewing project. I’m sure that I’ll stop sulking one of these days, and the sewing will recommence. I still like the idea of sewing, and as evidence…here is my haul from a few days ago, from the best estate sale ever.
I spent the last three weeks working on a dreaded house project (I kind of explain how I feel about house projects here), and when it was over, I returned to my computer like it was my long-lost best friend. I was so happy to see it, knowing that it would never, ever need me to laboriously scrape 100 years worth of paint and wallpaper off of a ceiling. No. It would let me play in Photoshop, and I would not need a dust mask or eye protection, and I could just be happy.
Really, really happy.
I Photoshopped this picture using a tutorial from the January/February 2010 issue of Layers Magazine (www.layersmagazine.com). They used photographs of a bride for their example, but for my version I went with my most reliable model: Toby. There’s one picture of Emma at the very end.