Time: A couple of months.

Cost: $20.

My first generation of knit socks are slowly starting to show some wear, so I anticipate that mid-2010-2011 will see the arrival of the next wave. I chose a straightforward, uncomplicated pattern for these so that the stitch pattern didn’t clash with the color changes in the yarn. The overall effect is vaguely aquatic, which pleases me.

The one mistake I made was to disregard my own habitually super-loose gauge: based on the measurements in the pattern, I started making a size M, which I had to rip out once I got past the heel and saw that they were waaay too big. I normally wear a sock about 60 sts around, so I started again with a size S (the lace pattern gives it a bit of stretch) and they fit perfectly.

It was hard to be enthusiastic about modeling these on a hot summer’s day, but I expect I’ll be appreciating them more in another few months.  (Can’t you tell these are hasty summertime photos?  I mean, look at those bronzed legs!)

Time: A couple of months.

Cost: $40.

I made this sweater to fill a very specific niche in my wardrobe: I wanted a brightly-colored, cropped, open-front sweater to wear on days when I find myself outfitted entirely in shades of black and gray.

I wanted either a bright green or a bright red, and I had a hard time finding colors I liked. Why must we always be so muted and tasteful, I ask? While on vacation, I picked up two skeins of Malabrigo Sock in Lettuce, which is a happy but not-blindingly-bright green. It ended up costing a lot more than the equivalent amount of lace weight, but a) vacation!, and b) I suspect that I’ll appreciate the added heft and durability whenever I inevitably snag it on something. Also: it’s SOFT!

I picked up every stitch for the collar and knit it in 1×1 rib until I felt that it was good and long enough. If, however, you were aiming for the square front that the pattern is designed for, I wouldn’t pick up every stitch like I did or would use smaller needles: it might just be my half-hearted blocking job, but the front band did expand. I actually quite like the result, because it curves in an almost bolero-like fashion over my shoulders, then droops downward all comfy-like. The bottom of the back, as you can see, is of course squared off like it should be.

I knit the front band first, because I wanted to make sure I had enough yarn to make it as long as I wanted it to be and because I didn’t particularly care about the length of the sleeves (I knew I’d push them over my elbows anyway). I used my kitchen scale to divide the remaining amount of yarn in two, and even had a little bit left when finished.

This is by no means a difficult pattern, but it did languish for long stretches while I was working on it. Because it’s straight stockinette, I basically saved it for TV and movie-watching. Now that it’s done, though, I think I’ll be wearing it lots.

Time: Two evenings.

Cost: $15.

This was a super-fast project. That’s not surprising, however, since I chose not to really use the pattern at all. This is basically a big, long a-line skirt with straps attached, so the only thing that required any consideration at all was the fitting of the top band. No lining, identical front and back (because the symmetry plus a side zipper made it — lo and behold — even simpler to construct), and I made the shape of the dress fit the small amount of fabric that I had. Hemmed it, put on straps, and it was done in a few hours. Belts: the easiest way to avoid shaping, pleating, and gathering!

Note, however, that the same pattern (now sadly out of print, but still available online) can be used very successfully in order to dress up like the leg lamp from A Christmas Story.

Hanging up, you can see that it is, in fact, a big, vaguely A-shaped tube of fabric.

I also did some coordinating top stitching, partially because I was too lazy to want to change the thread color. It’s easy to add details when your project requires, like, two major seams.

Time: A couple of weeks, largely making futile and ill-advised changes to muslins.

Cost: $10 fabric; $20 belt.

I had two weddings to attend this summer, both at slightly unusual locations: one in a Nevada desert, and the other on an Ohio farm. Whatever other nuances of dress code there were to obey were subordinated to the need to wear something that was decidedly machine-washable. After a great deal of pondering, I remembered that I had some cheap navy sateen in my stash, and decided to go with the ever-reliable New Look 6557.

This is a very straightforward pattern, and I’ve already made it once before. Armed with this additional knowledge and confidence, I spent over a week trying to fancy things up a bit — namely, making muslins of different versions of the bodice — and failing utterly. Finally, I went back to just using the pattern as drafted, and having Pete help me fit the side seams very carefully. This worked like a charm.

Because I can’t not add extra trimming, I added white piping to the bottom hem, and a vintage belt from Etsy. The other modification that I’m proud of is below: I lined the inner bodice with some lightweight cotton batiste, and rolled it outward very slightly while pressing and topstitching the edges. This gave it a nice thin white edging, which matches the hem and (I figure) looks a lot better than having it accidentally stick out haphazardly.

Despite all of the earlier failed attempts at grander modifications, I’m nevertheless very pleased with how this fairly straightforward version turned out. I also got a ton of compliments on it at the first wedding we went to, from people who had no idea that I sew. That means, my friends, that it passed the test with flying colors.

Time: A month.

Cost: $4 USD.

An alternative title for this piece would perhaps be The Exception. As a rule, orange is not my color, and I don’t wear shawls. But I was making a Knitpicks order, and saw this yarn on clearance for $4. One skein would be barely enough to make a small scarfy thing, and the orange was just such a happy, cheerful color — I just couldn’t pass it up.  Flattering colors be damned — this is the anti-February-blues hue.

I’m also not a shawl person, fashion-wise. They’re not my thing, and if I could make something like this, I would want to pin it up on my wall and display it like an exotic butterfly under glass. But Citron is a pattern that can pass as a scarf, which makes me happy — I wear some sort of scarf most of the year, and this is a particularly cheery, non-bulky one to smush up beneath a drab winter coat.

I even got a chance to wear it when it snowed a couple of weeks ago.

Time: Several months, mostly dormant.

Cost: $32 USD.

This scarf originally began as an Aran Honeycomb Cable scarf for Pete, which failed miserably. For whatever reason — gauge? tension? — the cables just didn’t pop, and got lost in the (otherwise lovely) yarn. I went up a needle size and changed to the Palindrome pattern, and the results were dramatically different: the cables were nice, fat, and well-defined, and the fabric positively cushy. I also like the reversibility; not that this would necessarily be a problem for my husband, but I know that I tend to fidget with one-sided scarves to make sure they’re facing the right way out.

The only changes that I made were to work a few extra rows before the first and last cable crosses, and to add an extra 12 stitches to make an extra cable. As you might expect given the pattern and extra width, this version positively eats yarn, but since I ordered an extra skein it turned out a-ok.

When the scarf is all rolled up like in the top photo, I just want to give it a big hug. It’s also kitty-tested, husband-approved.

(This is Pete doing what he refers to as “The Obama.”)

Time: 6 weeks, mostly during the Olympics.

Cost: $38 (provided that I’m remembering the skein count correctly).

I’ve had my eye on this project for awhile, and I figured that the Winter Olympics would present the perfect time to tackle it — the sweater is thematically appropriate, and the Olympics also provide a good amount of couch time. (Otherwise, I figured I’d get discouraged and bored by the slow pace.)  Also, since I’m a big fan of what I regard as fairly hardcore Dale of Norway-style sweaters, I like how this design keeps the spirit of more traditional designs, but modernizes it slightly. (The sleeves on the Dale sweaters make me look like a particularly squat blocky block, which isn’t always ideal.)

Favorite detail: the contrasting picot-trim cuffs.

I have a predictably loose gauge, but swatches on size 3, 4, and 5 needles with the Telemark all yielded a uniform 21 sts/in. Because that would make something like a 44″ bust if I knit the smallest size, I crunched the numbers and did the math to take the pattern down to a roomy-but-not-baggy 37″. Scandinavian-style sweaters aren’t traditionally fitted or tight, so I wanted this one to fit more like your average sweatshirt-type hoodie. It ended up being about 34″ without any stretching during the blocking process, so I wasn’t too far off.  (I might stretch the shoulders and the neck out a bit next time I wash it, though.)

I fudged the math on the armscythe a bit, primarily because the height of the armscythe was more than it should’ve been because I forgot to allow for the extra vertical space it’d allow me to complete the yoke chart (in other words, I should’ve started the yoke chart earlier). This was also the first time that I’ve done stranding / colorwork flat instead of in the round, and it does show in some places. Most notably, the seams around the armholes are quite tight; I think I seamed them together aggressively to make the colorwork at the seams look tidier.

Other small edits:

• I ripped out and re-did the body hem in a standard rib; the checkerboard rib kept flipping around while I worked on the body of the sweater, so I had no reason to expect that it would magically begin to behave when I actually started to wear the thing.
• I figured out what the “center the chart” advice in the pattern meant a little too late: given the zig-zag-like pattern of the yoke, it makes sense to have one of the peaks or valleys of those zigs match up with where the neckline splits. I was able to fudge this, but it would’ve been really annoying if I hadn’t been able to match things up, and equally annoying if I’d had to rip back the yoke yet again.
• Short-rowed the shoulders for a 3-needle bind-off.
• Extended the sides of the hood farther around the neck when picking up stitches around the neck.
• There are a few small errors in the pattern: for example, you’re told to “knit the rest of” a purl WS row. That kind of thing.

Time: Coupla weeks.

Cost: $8.

My Neighbor Totoro is a great movie.  For children, but not pandering; deliberate, but not slow; fanciful, but not self-consciously whimsical.  Of course, I realized all this after the DVD went out of print.  To pass the time until it’s re-released in March, I made these mittens.

These mittens are based on one pattern and drafted from another, and all inspired by a project that I saw on Ravelry.

These mittens were knit with a relatively large yarn on a relatively small needle, so they’re nice and thick (you can see that they stand up, albeit floppily, for themselves). They’re designed to be outer mittens for a thin pair of liner gloves, so I can still manipulate camera controls or fumble around for my bus pass in frigid weather without having to completely remove all hand coverings.

I ended up taking out a row or two on each edge of the mitten to shrink the finished size a bit. There are also some imperfections here – some disappearing stitches and wonky patterns, and I actually meant for the colors to be reversed – but I’ll refer to those as “character.”

Also, because the past few months have notably lacked much cold or snow, they work perfectly well on their own.

Time: Three weeks.

Cost: $4!

I love these mittens. I’m not a big fan of Vogue Knitting in general, but the Fall 2008 issue certainly did have some winners in it.

The only changes that I made to the pattern were to fudge the thumb decreases a bit – I had too many stitches on the needles – and to change the cuff ribbing to a 2×1 pattern. There are a lot of looong color floats here, so I took the time to figure out how to wrap my stitches properly (which is quite convenient when done correctly). Unfortunately, I also did the nearly-impossible and stranded the second mitten a little too loosely, so it took a bit of post-blocking tugging to sort everything out. Now, however, I can’t wait to wear them.

That ought to happen immediately, given how unseasonably warm this January has been. Stranded fingering-weight mittens aren’t suitable for weather substantially below freezing, but they sure do look cute and shove into a coat pocket easily.

Also, I’m pretty sure that I could use the palm pattern to hypnotize strangers on the metro.

Time: A couple of weeks, largely dormant.

Cost: $20 for two balls of yarn, one of which I didn’t use.

Pete’s been borrowing a pair of my fingerless gloves to wear around the house this winter, so I offered to make him a pair of his own under the guise of a birthday present. We stopped by the yarn store during what must have been their Boxing Day sale, as we got a couple of skeins of Tahki Tweed at 50% off. This is a really simple project, so it’s particularly well-suited for a yarn with character, like the tweed.

Due to my ginormous gauge, I had to go down to a size 5 needle and reduce to 35 stitches around (omitting the second cable in the second cable round) to render the circumference sufficiently small.

We snapped these photos this morning right before he left for work. “Why don’t you hold some D&D dice in them?” I suggested. “How about I pretend to write something?” he replied disdainfully.