Put on an appy face?

Tangerine Tango is the new beige!

Because I'm lucky enough to have three techies in the family, I can usually get first aid with whatever computer-related issue is driving me berserk. There's a price to pay, however, which is the derision conveyed by my sons when I ask about something that every eight-year-old can do while simultaneously talking, eating, reading, and watching tv. Recently, for instance, I asked them how to download photos from the I- phone to my computer. The eldest replied, via email, "Momma, you torment me."

I have no ego invested in this, you may well believe.

I try to keep my tech needs simple, avoiding unnecessary frippery. Hence my Fear of Apps. What is more aggravating than downloading an app?  The Ipad or I-phone is always rejecting my password because I can't seem to type it correctly (do you know anyone who can type accurately on a virtual keyboard?) or I misremember it, and then if I muff it more than three times I have to reset the password.  Totally not worth the trouble. The few apps I've managed to download seem to have arrived from the ether-world in spite of my fumbling.

This is all a prelude to a brief discussion of two knitting apps I've recently played with. The first, Yarn U, was a freebie (it normally costs $2.99) from its creator who asked me to review it. When I emailed her with some questions that arose after I looked at it for awhile, no answers were forthcoming. Here's what I don't understand about this app, and possibly some of you, gentle knitters, have insights to share that would diminish my puzzlement.

• What are the selection criteria for the yarns in the sizable, but by no means inclusive, array?
• Who writes the cheerleader copy attached to each demo skein? Why should I believe the cheerleader's honeyed recommendations? What are her knitting credentials?
• Why are most of these yarns listed for sale mainly at jimmybeanswool.com (a mere 2,493 miles from my New England abode, as Yarn U's mileage indicator cheerily informs me)? 

Ex post facto I read through some of the reviews at the I-Tunes Store, and two at the top caught my eye:  "Not comprehensive enough to be useful," and "Pretty, but not very useful."  To which I say: "Yes."

***

Then, last week I was in Florida for some leisurely knitting accompanied by swimming, and decided to try out another app, Yarn Store GPS ($2.99).  I like the idea of this app, inasmuch as traveling is, for me,  a way to explore local yarn suppliers.  How nifty to have a gizmo on my phone that would take me to the closest LYS, no matter where in the world I was!

So here's the thing:  I activated Yarn Store GPS as I was being shuttled from the Fort Lauderdale airport to Boca Raton. The app indicated that there was indeed a yarn store in Boca, and showed me exactly where it was in relation to the moving vehicle in which I sat--about six miles away. I was impressed by the concise information, GPS map, and other nifty graphics. The app took me to the website of Great Balls of Yarn, which seemed to be a place worth visiting. What I discovered, however, when I Googled "yarn stores Boca Raton West Palm Beach Florida"on my Ipad, is that there are approximately four or five other LYS in the Boca vicinity, and these weren't listed on Yarn Store GPS.

More questions arise:

• How does Yarn Store GPS decide on its listings? 
• Do yarn stores pay to be included? 

As with Yarn U, I began to sense that the assortment offered as definitive was hardly an unbiased overview.

If apps like Yarn U and Yarn Store GPS (both sold by Sutro Media, by the way, though I didn't realize this at first download) state up front that their listings are partial and/or selective, that's fine. Honesty is always the best policy. But since they don't, the unsuspecting knitter who spends her hard-earned money on these babies is either going to be manipulated or annoyed.  Or both.

In conclusion: put the $6 you will save by not buying these apps towards knitting supplies.

Guts and glory

The quilt-inspired Log Cabin Afghan is nearing completion.

The closest I've been to mathematics since barely squeaking by trigonometry in high school, is knitting. (Music employs counting, not math.) Honestly, I love the geometry of knitted textiles, and discovering Kaffe Fassett's Glorious Knits book in 1985 was mind-expanding (not that I made any of its lyrical, geometric patterns. At that point, with two small kids and multiple teaching jobs, I hadn't time to knit...in fact, I gave it up for nearly twenty years).

But the thing about a great knitting book is that you don't have to follow its instructions. You can enjoy its inspirational qualities--images, ideas, and designs that are springboards to future projects. During The Years of Knitting Withdrawal there was a lot of unconscious processing. I returned to my needles about twelve years ago with a stronger sense of color and design. Naturally I was thrilled when a review copy of KF's latest book, Knitting With the Color Guys:  Inspiration, Ideas, and Projects from the Kaffe Fassett Studio (co-authored with Brandon Mably, published by Sixth and Spring Books), recently appeared in the mail.

In the score of years between Glorious Knits and The Color Guys, Fassett and Mably produced a wealth of design books focused on decor, quilting, and needlepoint, as well as knitting. Throughout, though, there's been a consistent reiteration and incremental development of colorwork and geometric themes, most inspired by historic or classic patterns and/or decorative arts. Thus it was interesting to compare the bookends, as it were.

To cite only one example, a classic quilting pattern, "Tumbling Blocks," appears as a sweater design in Glorious Knits, while in The Color Guys it has been distilled into a rectangular "Trapezoidal Throw." It's about as close as you can come to painting in knitting, I think.

***

But once you start seeing artful geometry in knitting, it's everywhere. (What is it about textiles that makes us love their patterned repetitions?) My estimable friend Neuroknitter dropped by yesterday with a package of the world's greatest Girl Scout Cookies (chocolate thin mints, of course) and several examples of her stunning hand-dyed yarn in the form of socks and a clapotis shawl-in-process whose patterning depends on a rhythmically raveled stripe. What a treat!

One thing leads to another...

Perhaps you saw the Flavorwire piece by Emily Temple on The Twenty Most Beautiful Bookstores in the World that's been making Internet rounds. I forwarded it to the several folks I know who still buy actual books with actual money. One of them--a rising star in the world of standup comedy who happens also to be a blood relative--offered to take me to The Last Bookstore, a Los Angeles biblio-temple noted in the article, when I went west last week. Thus I found myself trolling its aisles on Thursday, the first of March.

The bibliophile-comedian browses.

Notice the floating quasi-sculptural panels in the background.  These are assembled from deconstructed books.

So, the appealing features of The Last Bookstore are its funky Atheneum-like furniture, the mosaic tile floor, the lofty, coffered ceiling, the decorative floating wall panels evoking ecclesiastical murals, and the stately columns. A cashier told me the building was, in a prior incarnation, a bank. That was obviously when banks were Temples of Mammon rather than drive-thru ATMs.

Oh, and all the books for sale at The Last Bookstore are used and quite reasonably priced.

Naturally, I checked out the Knitting section.  This is what I found:

Knit Knit:  Profiles and Projects from Knitting's New Wave, by Sabrina Gschwandtner (Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 2007).  (A signed copy, no less!) This is what I read on the plane as I returned to Rhode Island.

What you won't find in Knit Knit are conventional knitting patterns for clothing. You'll find patterns for a giant teddy bear knitted from fiberglass strips, for a large, loose sweater that's knitted into a wall, for a knitted banner that proclaims "I'm So Angry," and for "Mini-Sweater Earrings," to mention only several.

The wearable clothing featured is, to say the least, edgy, and even if you can't see yourself knitting up one of these patterns, they are all, from a design perspective, thought-provoking and inspirational. For me, the book is great not just because it links the featured patterns to their creators, some of whose names will be familiar to you (e.g. Norah Gaughan, Annie Modesitt). It's great because it shows you how designers who are truly original see and think about knitting. People who are artists--no matter what the medium--view life in a way that those who aren't cannot. By gathering and presenting these profiles and patterns, Knit Knit offers an exuberant discourse on creativity, original thinking, and what it means to be an artistic soul.

I hope there's a Knit Knit sequel forthcoming.

Tangerine Tango is the new beige...

Gentle knitters, I've been thinking about colors and why some of them are always thrillingly luscious (rosy pink, dark red) or comforting (navy, natural) or safety nets (black, brown), while others make us gag or engender a love-hate relationship. Let's consider, for instance, avocado green or "harvest" gold, which were a big deal in the 1960s and '70s, to the extent that many people actually bought kitchen appliances, shag rugs, drapes, etc. in those colors and regretted their tragically expensive choice within a very short time. Once enveloped by avocado green and harvest gold (a murky yellow-brown evoking ?) those fond feelings simply evaporated, and then where was the love?

Well, it's 2012 and now orange is in--specifically a shade called Tangerine Tango, which is Pantone's Color of the Year. The Knitting Goddess tells me the Color of the Year, flogged in fashion and décor, is an industry-generated ploy. For me, orange is the color equivalent of a scream for attention, since where I live you can't, by law, walk in the woods without wearing orange, else you risk being taken for wild game and shot at by a local yahoo who's out there proving his manliness. In fact, the one orange hand-knitted item in the house is a scarf I made H a while ago, specifically to increase his visibility when we stroll with Lola in nature-land.

Yet rather than feel that Tangerine Tango is a color I might grow to hate in the manner of avocado green and harvest gold, which I truly detest, I think of it as a color I'd grow to ignore because in a way it's so ubiquitous--the outerwear we don to maximize visibility in the woods, strip-mall signage, Halloween clichés, Fanta and Cheetos. Perhaps that's the inevitable fate of any Color of the Year, to become beige-i-fied.

These musings prompted me to inspect the orange yarns in my stash, and to compare them with natural oranges (tangerines, actually, and the last of the carrot harvest). There is a tonal harmony here, but a little orange goes a very long way, and I enjoy it best in combinations.

Here Lola unhappily models my (now) Evolved Sweater (formerly known as the Evolving Sweater), which as you can see features orange in combination with an eclectic assortment of colors and yarns.

Heartfelt

It's a self-evident truth that V-day is nearly upon us. Recently, as I perused the assortment of regular daily emails that fly into my Inbox, I happened upon this from Knitting Daily, a charming and completely free-of-charge felted heart pattern designed by Mags Kandis.

In a eureka! moment I realized that my knitting of these lumpy little valentines would accomplish much in one fell swoop:

• I'd use up scraps of yarn;
• I'd practice "wrapping" stitches, as the pattern called for;
• I'd practice short rows;
• I'd try out a knitting app I'd downloaded onto my Iphone;
• and...I'd end up with several funky knitted heart-like things.

Well, it all worked like a charm, I'm happy to say. 

Knitted heart in primitive evolutionary stage.

Does not this open-faced heart resemble a ginko leaf? And gingkos are evolutionarily both primitive, in the sense of being very ancient, and also sui generis among trees.  (Don't ask why I know this.)

Following the 18-row pattern, I did a long-tail cast-on (thanks to the Knitting Goddess, who demo'd it for me and led me through two practices), reviewed the wrap-and-turn process of short rows (again thanks to the Knitting Goddess, who was, I think, born knowing all of this very useful stuff), and worked my way down the lines. But...I'm not a diligent note-taker, and it soon was apparent that I needed an aide-memoire.

Then I recalled that a few weeks ago I'd done a search in the App Store using the keyword "knitting," and had found a few gizmos to download.  (About these as a group, stay tuned for a future post.) One, Knit Counter Lite, seemed like it might be just the ticket, and I must say it was. With a mere tap of my pinkie, I kept track of rows and where I was, exactly, in the midst of them.

This might not seem like such a big deal to those who enjoy the tactile sensations of paper and pencil to tick off the rows completed, but I am the kind of person who starts with a paper and pencil and then gets annoyed because I don't want to put down the knitting to use them, so I say forget that, and I then do promptly forget where I am in the pattern.  With the Knit Counter Lite app, I could hold the knitting and simultaneously add each row with a tiny tap, or subtract  if I ripped one (or more) out. No longer was I lost nel mezzo del caminn, as it were.

I can't remember if this app was free of charge, and my Iphone won't tell me. A more sophisticated Knit Counter by the same company (Cordless Dog) costs $3.99 to download, and it's probably worth the price of admission, as it does quite a bit more than the Lite version.

Practical-minded knitters are undoubtedly wondering what I plan to do with these fuzzy felted hearts...and so am I, though Ted thinks they make a great bikini.

At this point I'm not worried about their purpose, but more inclined to say, along with M. Pascal, "the heart has its reasons...."

(Le coeur a ses raisons que la raison ne connaît point.)

Travelry

Do you know that memory game, played during long, boring car rides, where one person says, "I'm going on a trip and I'm taking my [fill in the blank]"? Then the second person says "I'm going on a trip and I'm taking [the thing first mentioned] and [another thing]."  Etcetera, ad nauseam. That was my life today trying to figure out which knitting project to bring with me to Long Island, where I'll be visiting my aunt.

I kept telling myself, "I'm going on a trip and I'm going to bring the brown fair-isle socks."  Then, playing the part of the next participant:  "I'm going on a trip and I'm going to bring the brown fair-isle socks and the evolving sweater." Then, a while later, "I'm going on a trip and I'm going to take the brown fair-isle socks, the evolving sweater, and the blue  variegated socks."

Because if I didn't have enough knitting along, I might run out of things to knit. OMG!

Then Ted said, "Get a grip.  You're only gone for two-and-a-half days."

So, I'm just taking two pairs of socks.  I'll be spending some significant hours on Amtrak and the LIRR; maybe I'll finish them both!

Meanwhile, the Evolving Sweater has once again regressed owing to another cable needle tragedy--this time the plastic cable separated from the metal screw-post.  I am starting to hate circular needles.

The malevolent needle is hanging out on the right.

As you perhaps know, we are having an unseasonably warm winter. Today, the first of February, the temperature in Westerly, Rhode Island was almost 60F, and the ambient flora are behaving accordingly. There are already snowdrops blooming in the garden!

Carrying on

It has been a strange week, gentle knitters. Strangest was a meeting of the Langworthy Library Knitters, which I found difficult to endure, so I left early.

As often happens when people democratically connected by little other than a single interest convene, there is some incompatibility among group members. This wouldn't matter if everyone focused on the shared passion of knitting. However, one member continually hijacks the conversation and monologues about her life as it played out from about the 1940s through present, though she seems especially fond of tales from the 1960s. Does she not notice that people rarely, if ever, respond to her chatter?

As usual there was this background noise, but then a new member joined the group, and within about fifteen minutes had informed us all of her extensive and serious health issues, surgeries, and treatments IN A VERY LOUD VOICE.

That was the straw, my friends. I do not go to a knitting club to be bombarded by the semi-tragic and deeply personal information of someone who's clearly looking for...what? Sympathy? Help? To this sad person, I donate a metaphorical Kit Bag. Were she to pack her troubles into it, she might enjoy life. Meanwhile I was the one with the fake smile on my face, while inwardly I wanted to stab someone with my #3 dpns, so nice and pointy.

So, farewell to the Langworthy Knitting Association for the time being.

Yes, people need to relieve themselves of the burdens of their misery, their angst, their fears. We all have confessed or vented to close friends, family members, clergy, and paid therapists. These are either people who know and love us, or people who are professionally qualified to help folks Deal with their Issues. What does it say about someone who foists her baggage on strangers and mere acquaintances? That, like Blanche Dubois, she relies on their kindness? IMHO, it merely adds unfairly to the burdens we all carry, less or more gracefully.

Never has the maxim, Keep Calm and Carry Yarn, seemed so appropriate.

Ted carries yarn.