A lot of people have asked me how I come up with my designs. Well, maybe only a few people. At any rate, I think that’s what they were asking. They were pretty far away. They might have been saying, “Why does she do that?”
At any rate, I’m pretty sure people want to know how a feral knitter gets that way (whether their interest is personal or clinical is not for me to judge). I will proceed on this assumption, ill-founded though it may be.
Feral Design Step One
Decide what you want to make in a very general way
I want to make a sweater for my sweetie pie. The only other garment I’ve made for him is a very simple, blue, saddle-yoke pullover that is rather large for him.
J is a quiet fellow who does not like flashy clothes. In his mind, flashy covers a lot of ground. So, because I want this sweater to be worn, I will have to rein in my natural color and pattern exuberance.
J states that he would like something in the brown range. His ability to describe color is kind of limited, though, so I take this with a grain of salt. After 17+ years of marriage, what I interpret this to mean is he’d like something subdued and not an obvious color (in other words, you wouldn’t look at it and say oh, that’s a green sweater). I’m sure I can quietly sneak in some colors.
This will be a regular drop-sleeve pullover, not a cardigan (because he has a cardigan already). But I think I might do a set-in shawl collar. I don’t need to decide this yet. J can pull off a straightforward drop-sleeve design because his hips are narrower than his shoulders—I’ll stick with the classic shape because it’s easiest.
To be continued….
Koolaid Dyeing Yet Again
Thank goodness KuulAde [editor’s note: I’ve GOT to look up the spelling of this] is not an ingredient in meth production, or the police would be knocking down the door any day now, having been notified by local shopowners that an abnormal amount was being purchased by someone at this address. I’ll be sitting in my chair, knitting away, or at the computer working, when a sense of restlessness overtakes me. I’ll wander into the kitchen, ostensibly for another cup of coffee—but my rationalization covers the need to dye again. “It’ll only take a few minutes. You’ve got the yarn. There’s some QylAyd in the drawer. Do it.” Addiction isn’t pretty.
So here we are, more dyed yarn: