Busted!

I've been working as an Early Childhood Teacher for around eight years, and in that time I've worked with babies right through to preschoolers.The common theme of 'rest time' runs pretty consistently right through all age ranges, and then starts to taper off as the preschoolers start to approach what they refer to as 'big school'.

One of the more pleasant tasks that befall people in my field of employ (I refuse to call us 'Child Care Workers'. I'm University-trained, damnit!) is that of sitting with children and stroking their foreheads or patting their backs to help them get to sleep, and the younger they are, the more likely it will be that they want and enjoy this experience. It's gorgeous. I've found that gently stroking your index finger down a wee baby's forehead and nose makes them relax almost instantly, and as this is continued, you can just watch their little eyes flutter closed; it's so beautiful watching a child fall asleep!

But I digress. Where I find myself working now, I am with an older age range of preschoolers who have mostly all decided that they 'don't need me' to pat them to sleep. I was feeling pretty rejected, (and let's face it, quite bored and sleepy during rest times with nothing to occupy me) until last week I jokingly said to my coworker (and director of the service), "Man, I should bring my knitting for rest time". She responded, in all seriousness, "Hey, that's a good idea!". I love that kind of talk, especially from a non-knitter.

So, this week, I have been bringing my latest project, knit in a cream 12-ply (the ultimate antidote to 4-ply baby yarn!) that I cast on last Sunday. The first instructions, after casting on sixty-two stitches, was 'knit straight for forty-eight centimetres from cast-on'. Hmm. Not terribly challenging, but something to 'get done', so I could keep on with the interesting parts of the project. Sorry I have to keep referring to it as 'the project' - it must remain a secret till this baby is born! Maybe I need to cast on something else to keep everyone here entertained. More on that to come...

And I set myself up in a good vantage point, unzipped my bag, and set off. Row after row of good, straight, sensible, plain garter stitch. How it made my heart glad to see the stitches fly and the length increase! 'Hooray - less to do later' I thought, as I ploughed on. And the children loved it too! Every time I cast my eye over the little 'uns, at least half of them were similarly transfixed my the movement and gentle sound of the needles doing their thing. Lovely stuff.

It wasn't till today that I found out I'd been BUSTED by the Powers That Be... I spoke to the principal of the school I work at this afternoon, who at the end of our 'work' conversation, said casually,

"I saw you knitting on Monday at Rest Time"

"Oh, really?" I said, trying not to sound too flustered. "Well, you know how it is when you get to the end of the year, the preschoolers don't want me patting them, and I thought I'd do something useful while supervising, and..." excuses came pouring out of my mouth, unchecked and unbidden (this happens a lot to me when I'm put on the spot by work, salespeople and telemarketers).

"Yes", she continued. "We were having a giggle, watching through the window, you sitting up there like a Nana, knitting while you were looking over the children"

And then I pull out a self-deprecating joke. Why? I dunno. It just happens. Maybe if they think I'm willing to take myself down then they don't have to do it for me?

"Oh", I said "Well, it's not like you want me to be, you know, actually connecting with the children, do you... heh heh heh...?" There was a slight pause, then the principal said,

"Nah, you can knit! It's good you're doing something useful while you've got to sit there, isn't it?"

SUCCESS!

It only took me a second to register that all was cool, and that no sarcasm resided in that sentence, when I came back with:

"Excellent! I'll bring in that afghan I've been working on next Monday!"

hehe... she nearly fell off her chair laughing.




And here's one I made earlier! THE baby hat that's been driving me nuts over the past couple of weeks... Being that I've been in such a rush to start my next project, this is a photo of the third one of these I've knit, because... I still haven't washed, blocked or sewn up the last one completed (!). Are you surprised? I had a serious case of startitis! Still do, actually...

Fibre Mentoring

I'm still reading through previous post archives on Yarn Harlot, and I love it. I love the way Stephanie writes, I can just sense the joy she feels and expresses so beautifully in her life: her family, her dedication to making the world a better place for us all, and of course her absolute passion for fibre and knitting. I want to grow up to be just like her in so many ways. Link, read... you will understand. In a post from July 2005, she talked about the idea of 'Fibre Mentoring' - I love this concept...

" Cassie wrote about the new spinners urge to save good stuff for later, when you are a better spinner, and how she didn't really get behind that theory a whole lot. I couldn't agree more.

While (clearly) I have no issues with hoarding lovely fibres (and clearly, neither does Cassie) until their day comes, I also think that there is a great deal to be said for learning to spin with the best materials you can afford.
Nobody needs to be hindered by things that are barely usable, and nobody needs to feel that they are a crappy spinner (or just more crappy than they actually are, since we all suck in the beginning and it is only the length of time that we are sucking for that is really variable among learners). Good fibre makes good yarn.

Good things inspire you. Good things get you to try harder. Good fibre actually helps you spin. Beautiful fibre gives you something to live up to.

Crap fibre depresses you, frustrates you and encourages you to give up and (in the less determined) could cause a fledgling spinner to wander off entirely, thinking that they obviously aren't meant for this...given that they keep turning out crap yarn. Even the best spinner is going to end up with crap yarn if you start with crap fibre, except at least they are going to know why they apparently suck so hard.

Luckily, there is a practice among spinners, an unspoken code of fibre giving. When a previously normal person gets sucked into the inevitable hole takes up spinning, it is common practice for every other spinner within earshot of the event to take a moment, scour the fibre stash and send a little bit of something wonderful off to inspire the intrepid newbie. Guilds do it, pressing delicious samples on the learner, clubs do it, and the internet does it with gusto, often inundating the newly pledged with bits and pieces of wonderful things, merino, silk, flax and cotton all show up on your doorstep, hand-dyed, plain, roving, sliver, bumps....it is all pressed into your grateful hands with only the lovely phrase "here, try this" to accompany it. The new spinner tries all these things, gets experience, and learns what they like and may invest in.

It's a wonderful expression of mentorship, and all that you are expected to do in return is to pass on something good..knowledge or fibre...when you have the chance. Brilliant.

Has anyone mentored you with a gift of fibre? "

I can't say that anyone ever has, although I don't actually know anyone else who spins. Actually, scratch that, my mother-in-law spins and she gave me her handspun for the green and cream blanket I knit. I'm sure she'd teach me to spin the way she does if I asked, but I think there's more I'd need to know. Things like spinning different fibres together, working on different weights, and learning how to ply in different ways (I'm fascinated by the idea of Navajo plying).

However, in other news, I got in touch with the Hand Weavers and Spinner's Guild of New South Wales this week, and they have forwarded the names and numbers of several spinners I could get in touch with near me for lessons. I'm moving slowly, but I'm moving. Progress!

It's a lovely grey drizzly day here today - I do hope it rains, we so desperately need it - and I thought I'd add some sunshine to this post, in the form of one of the cacti that co-inhabit my sunroom. This is Torston (I don't name all my plants, potted or otherwise; this one was named in honour of my best mate's twenty-first birthday... It's a long story!)

Complaints and Startitis

It's Thursday again, and that means that my work week is over. Bear in mind, when I say 'work week', I mean Paid Employment. Once I finish my three days of Paid Employment, I embark upon my four days of hangin' with WonderBoy and trying to catch up on housework.

I do enjoy my days at home with WonderBoy; we play all sorts of games, argue over how many packets of sultanas we're going to open (today the score is 0 in the supermarket itself - WonderBoy not impressed - 1 in the pushchair walking up the street to visit Auntie Lulu at work, and 1 at home when WonderBoy 'helped' me to unpack the shopping - he was helping just to find the sultanas), and just generally enjoy each other's company. And now the Complaints and Startitis. Don't say I didn't warn you all last night.

Complaints: I am sick of baby yarn! The wee bub's hat that I'm knitting ant the moment is a little rectangle really, so the pattern is so basic a monkey could knit it ("so what's your complaint?" I hear everyone ask. Very funny.) but the major problem here is that this is the fourth one I've knit, so when I pick it up, I feel like my brain is starting to trickle out my ears. It's disturbing me, cause I know I should not be feeling like I have to force myself to knit. It just doesn't feel natural, you know? I'll just pause here to allow a shudder down all our spines...

It's one of those knittery paradoxes, isn't it - when you've knit a large garment on 7 and 8mm needles, you feel itchy for something little and simple. In this case, little and simple is driving me nuts cause I know I've got something more interesting in the stash cupboard. Another baby gift, but knit up on lovely 100% 12-ply Cleckheaton wool. Can't say much about this project cause the pregnant recipient may find it!

Hence the startitis - apart from the 12-ply baby gift, there's a mohair blend jumper for me I want to get started, another big baby gift, a lace shawl, a toy cat, AND I want/need to learn how to knit socks by Christmas. Am I expecting too much of myself? Possibly. Expecting too much from my family to put up with all this? Never! Perhaps now wasn't the best time to join a Monthly Dishcloth KAL on Ravelry?

Ah, well. Here's some Spring Garden pictures to soothe the soul. I'll crank up my 'Get This' podcast and add some more rows to the baby hat...


Azaleas, and...














... Very lovely Lobelias. I wish I could find sock yarn exactly this colour.

Knitting Scouts - a quick post

Hey, I've earned myself some Knitting Scouts badges! (from Cast On dot com for other Knitting geeks):


* There's The “MacGyver” Badge (Level One) - The recipient must demonstrate clever use of a non-knitting tool in a knitting-related scenario. For instance, recipient has used paper clips as stitch markers, or successfully whittled and then utilized bamboo skewers as dpns.

* The “Knitting Whilst Under the Influence” Badge - This applies to both actual knitting under the influence, as well as achieving moments of stunning intellectual clarity about ones knitting under the influence. Presumes talking about knitting whilst under the influence a given.... didn't knit anything very stunning, however!

* The “Inordinately Fond of Novelty Yarn” Badge - In which the recipient professes an arguably unhealthy affinity for yarn with slubs, sparkles, spangles, fur, feathery bits, and an unconscionable proportion of man-made fibre. Recipient makes no apology for the preference (This was earned on WonderBoy's behalf, for his love of my very fuzzy novelty scarf that he likes to wear around the house like a feather boa, usually teamed with my shower cap);

* The “Proselytize Knitting” Badge - A requirement for all Knitting Scouts, the recipient must do his or her bit to present knitting in a positive light, whilst at the same time avoiding all references to “hipness”, grandmothers, and yoga.


* The “I’ve Knit Items With No Conceivable Practical Application” Badge - Recipients are those “special” campers who have knit items which somehow missed the mark of their intended application. There are probably more who are deserving of this badge than one would expect. My personal crime was two (yep, two!) right legs for baby leggings. I blame pregnancy for the lapse in any sort of clear thinking.

Tomorrow: I stop pinching wonderful ideas from other people's knitting podcasts (actually, I can't say I pinched. Here's the link to 'Cast On', a wonderful podcast that I spruik on a regular basis) and start ranting about my case of startitis and my boredom with endless rows of baby yarn...

In which Jenny girds up her loins...

... and stops being such a spinning wuss.

I must have been in a crappy mood last post (sorry for scaring away any potential regular readers of 'shoeboxes' - do I have *any* regular readers? Comment if you are - I'd love to know that me typing all this isn't just some ego thing), and so upon getting up today (to find Pete and Wonderboy engaged in a massive battle of wills over breakfast) I decided that today was the day to clean the house, properly. Bear in mind that my version of cleaning the house properly involves mopping as well as vacuuming, plus cleaning the whole bathroom (not just throwing some chemicals down the toilet and wiping the vanity mirror). Another thing to remember is that this process is undertaken at two times:

1. When the house becomes too disgusting for me to pretend to tolerate (this usually happens in two week to two month intervals. I know. It's gross.) There is some minor cleaning in between these times, usually a quick vacuum and a frenzy of wiping surfaces.

2. The other times are when we're expecting guests. I leave cleaning till the last minute, and then go totally off my chops at Pete for not guessing all that needed to be done and for 'daring' to ask me "Is there anything I can do to help?" when I'm headfirst down the toilet, scrubbing like my life depends on it, whilst muttering things like "Do y'think they'll notice if I don't wipe the inside of the bin flap down?"

What's really weird is that whenever we do a decent clean, I always feel compelled to call up friends and invite them round that evening for a meal. It's like I need to prove to everyone that I do manage to keep a clean house at least some of the time. I wonder sometimes about Wonderboy and hygiene, but then I remember that a child should consume something like a kilo of dirt before they turn five, or something to that effect... Nah, just jokes, I do make sure things are 'clean' where Wonderboy is concerned.

Wonderboy is very good about helping to tidy up (at the moment. This is scheduled to change at a time of Wonderboy's choosing. Thank you for your enquiry. Please call again.), to the point where he is loving the opportunity to help put things in the bin. He's taken to helping himself to onions from the drawer, to peel them then make multiple trips to the bin to pop the skin in. Bless his strange little mind.

Oh, yeah. Spinning... Don't mind me, I do this in real life, too.

ANYWAY, turns out I was so pleased with the amount of work we managed to get done (the amount of work Wonderboy allowed us to get done), plus I got some potting done in the garden, and feeling on a roll, I threw caution to the wind and decided to card some mohair to have a crack at spinning.

This is the sunroom that I recently claimed as my own for a "spinning room" (since I'm too scared to try going into the study, let alone spin in there).














Here's my first attempt at a rolag. Not quite, I think you'll agree. I watched some how-to videos on the Joy of Handspinning website. Very well done, easy to understand and clear. Love the videos.

I got a little better as I went along. I have more work to do, I understand...











And here's my wee little basket of rolags after half an hour of carding. Proud much?

Handspinning self esteem issues.

I have them.

Lately, I have found myself not content to wait for the Yarn Harlot's next exciting installment, so I have gone right back to the very beginning of her blog archives and decided to read them one at a time. All of them.

Anyone who knows me even just a little, knows of my reading 'thing'. My mother would say on a regular basis when I was a kid, "Oh, Jenny would read the back of a bus ticket if she couldn't find anything else". And it's true. When I go back to Mum and Dad's, the first thing I do is sift through the mass of magazines and pattern books that Mum collects and leaves on the coffee table. I'm useless if there's something even remotely interesting to read, and a damn near write-off as a human being if there's a Harry Potter within my reach.

And so, I am entertaining myself while Wonderboy is napping with 'Get This' podcasts, and catching up on all there is to know of the Harlot that I didn't already know. It's fascinating - I now know the origins of The Gansey that has plagued the Harlot's life for so very long. Very interesting.

Which leads me to spinning, and my lament that despite having spent money on Ebay for my lovely Ashford wheel, having collected big bags of fleece to spin on said wheel and having pinched my mother in law's handcarders to card said fleece, I don't think I'm ever going to learn to spin. That sounds a little fatalistic, I know. But hear me and my defeatism out. Here are my thoughts behind this decision:

1. I'm not even currently knitting right now. I should be knitting right now, but I'm not, I'm dicking about on the computer (although let's face it, the main reason for me to not be knitting is that as much as I love knitting baby clothes for my friends and their bubs, and I love how soft the yarn is, this is the fourth white stocking-stitch baby hat I've knit this year. I am sick to death of it, and I'm also sick of tiny, tiny needles. The only thing that keeps me at it is the glorious promise of The Next Project) and if I can't even get my arse in gear to continue my beloved knitting, what hope do I have of making time to learn spinning?!?

2. Even though we are ensconced in our lovely new house, which has considerably more room for us and our crap, I have very quickly found that as Wonderboy has become older and more mobile, any space 'for me' is quietly and quickly shrinking. Even my bedside table is no longer my own - I have to keep anything of mine up and out of the way of my little marauder. And so the lovely Ashford spinning wheel has been carefully placed in the room in our house affectionately known as 'the study'.

3. 'The study' is full of any crap we haven't put away yet after the move, plus two desks and Pete's computer, which just breeds crap. I stay away from this room for fear that one day I might go in and never come out again. It has become Pete's territory, and so my poor little wheel is buried right at the back. All the fleece I procured has been shoved under my bed (I was frightened it might get chucked out when I wasn't looking - it's in a kind of Alpaca fleece protection program for its own safety), and so I'm not sure I could get all the stuff I need out to spend any decent length of time spinning.

4. I am a total wussbag. I don't want to try till I've taken some lessons in spinning from someone who knows what they're doing. I bought some books, researched on the Internet (cause I like reading, remember?) but I just don't feel... confident. I know, this is spinning wool, not driving a road train, but... ugh. And do you think I can find any lessons anywhere near my local area?

*sob* I'm waiting for the violins to start playing... hehehe.

While I continue 'not knitting' and wait for the Pity Police to come and take me away, here are some photos of someone who's really doing it tough.

This is Wonderboy, who has of late taken a real shine to any and all new technology in the house. His favourites were phones (mobile and landline cordless, he's not picky), but the proviso was no imitations or substitutions. This kid ain't stupid. He knows that Pete's phone is the most up-to-date of any in the house and if he wants to 'talk' to Nana, he wants to be doing it on that phone. Lately, his techno-lust has extended to my camera, and the following four shots document one little boy's descent into rage as his awful, awful mother refuses to hand over her camera:




















1. Making pre-emptive cranky sounds




















2. Letting the local district know how unhappy he is (imagine birds flocking out of nearby trees)




















3. Hands clenched, shaking with rage




















4. That's it woman - you've had it!

Till next time... I'm going to start looking for a spinning guru to whom I can attach myself... cleave to, if you will.

... and then she wore it!

I did, I really did - I got my lovely Linen Print top all finished, blocked and stitched up in time for me to wear to my Year Twelve ten-year reunion. Okay, not to the proper reunion; I wore it to the gathering the night before, held at The Oaks in Neutral Bay. Here's a shot of the finished product:

The making up was a bit wonky, I'm still not quite as proficient as I could be at this part of the whole process. I don't have a great deal of confidence in my handsewing abilities and so I sew, and oversew, and then around the arm seams, I sew it over once more just for good measure. I don't want this bugger to fall apart, or even need repair. Ever. If it needs repair, this will suggest that I didn't sew it together well enough in the first place.

I blocked and pressed the pieces last Thursday night, and took it with me to Mum and Dad's place on Friday afternoon, and started piecing it together, with Mum keeping half an eye out on me so I didn't make any major cock-ups. By the time I'd left to go home (at about 10.30pm, mind you) I had sewed the top of one sleeve on. I stayed up till past midnight, getting the top of the second sleeve on. I had a really good reason for this, and I'm sure anyone reading this will find me certifiably mad for even planning this... I wanted to be able to keep sewing this together in the car, and I thought if I set it up so there are no detached pieces, this will make it easier.

I like to make life hard for myself, I really do.

And so, in the 33 degree heat that was last Saturday, in among packing and organising my family to go to Sydney for the weekend (which takes a lot. Don't let anyone tell you that packing for a small human must be, logically, easier and quicker than packing for a fully-grown human) I found myself stitching together the pieces of jumper that was to be my attire for that evening. I finished it within minutes of arriving at our hotel, and this was within minutes of needing to be dressed and hurrying down Military Road to the pub to meet up with my classmates. Ooh, I like to live on the edge, me.

The best part of the evening (apart from wowing people with my talent for making my own clothes - not. Strangely, I think people take a bit of a view of pity on those of us who enjoy knitting our own garments. Something along the lines of "That's so clever of you? Yeah - I buy my clothes!" he he. Nah, I know there wasn't any pity praise. It's just the way that non-knitters look at the whole labour of love). Where was I? The best part of the evening, apart from my putting away scary amounts of wine, which while fun at the time, bit me squarely in the arse the next morning. At 5.30am. When Wonderboy decided to get up.

Aack. Back to the point. The point! The best part of my evening was when I, nervous, dressed and ready to go, crouched down in front of Wonderboy to say goodbye. My beautiful, beautiful little 19-month-old boy reached up and held my ears and said "Pitty". I asked, "You think Mummy's pretty?" And my darling looked at my face, and said "Pitty Mummy. Ear!"

I have the most beautiful ears in the world. Wonderboy said so.