Sassy Does It

Well, my friends - here she is.

Fifi by Kristeen Griffin-Grimes for French Girl Knits (download)
Size:  Small, with modifications
Yarn:  Rowan Calmer in Tree, 5.75 skeins (with lots of extra length - would have been less than 5 without it; see below)

More pics at my Ravelry post here.

Finished dimensions:

Bust = 29 inches around, unstretched, after blocking (pinned out to 32″)

Length = 27 inches (top of shoulder to bottom cast-off; longer than designed)

Widest part of neckline = 9 inches straight across at top (pinned out to 10″)

Modifications:

Sleeve length (from cap sleeves to short sleeves)

Torso length (from cropped to tuck-in-able)

Verdict:  Beautiful pattern, fun to follow, polished-looking result.  When knit with Calmer as suggested, the yarn works its magic to deliver the look that the pattern promises. 

There are a few corrections to check out, but nothing too extensive.  Not much else going on at the French Girl Knits website; best information is on Ravelry.

Only thing I would do differently is bump up a size.  I’m taking a less whiny approach to this topic than I did in my last post since I’ve decided it’s not as bad as I made it out to be.  The bust fits fairly well; the 29″ finished size as knit (32″ as pinned at blocking) stretches comfortably to hug my not-quite-B cups (~36″, over the sweater).

In choosing the size to knit, I decided to stay small because my boobs are, well, small.  Even though my frame, and therefore my abdomen, is not petite in circumference (mistake #1). 

I figured the clingy thing from boobs to waist was the whole point.  How could this be bad?  Sexy fit!  But I kind of forgot that clinging to unwanted curves is er, unwanted (mistake #2).

I had a little pout-fest halfway through the torso after trying it on and realizing that I didn’t look as svelte as I wanted to, and I had to put Fifi away where I couldn’t see her for a few days after that.

Then I decided that A) as knit, it’s an encouragement to get back to the gym, and B) probably, blocking will help.

Ultimately, upon trying on my FO again a few weeks after initial blocking (which didn’t help that much – alas, it’s cotton), I decided that wearing this with skirts will improve the look in the short term. 

I still have to suck in my gut, which was necessary for modeling here, but the waistline of the skirt is more forgiving since it can ride higher on the waist without looking dorky.   I have trouble with things that sit “just below the natural waist.”  See my rant on denim below.

On the yarn:  My advice to those weighing the cost of Calmer vs. a substitute is to wait for the Calmer - wait for those sales.  It’s worth it. 

Blocking: I stretched this a lot in the boob/abdomen area and did some shaping around the neckline and shoulders. You can see that the mid-to-lower torso pattern with 2×2 ribbing does stretch appreciably with the added touch of microfiber twisted into the cotton. Not enough stretch in my case, as we’ve already covered, but once I get rid of the extra flab it should – in theory – have a slimming effort.

Length:  I know, I know, it looks like a tunic on the blocking board.  Why so long?  Well, I’ll tell you.  My long torso combined with a sizeable booty require special needs when it comes to anything I might end up wearing with jeans.

Two things about jeans that don’t mix well with my body shape:

Denim – even stretch denim doesn’t stretch enough to hug this butt when I go to sit down.

Low-rise anything - High waisters aren’t exactly “in”, but with low-rise trousers, unfortunately I risk revealing more to the bleacher seats behind me than I bargained for, if you know what I mean.  I wear the low-rises anyway because I agree with Mother Fashion’s guidance on this (I’ve no desire to re-live junior high, thank you very much).  But.  You get the gist of my issue here.

As such, I decided that I wanted this sweater to be a tucker-inner so that I could wear it with jeans and sit down without constantly feeling around back there to see if I was giving the person seated behind me a little show.

As I said above - tuck-in or no tuck-in, after experimenting a bit, I’m happier wearing this with a skirt for now.

Sleeves: I added a couple of inches.  I don’t quite have the Michelle Obama arms I want yet, so cap sleeves don’t do me any favors. Not that short sleeves hide much more, but they do help the cause.

You can see below that the red yarn line was the point at which I began adding.  I threw in an increase on each side of the seam under the armpit every row for a few rows, then every other row for a few more, before knitting even for a bit until I was happy with the length.

Neckline:  I liked the way that some of the Ravelry FOs had a nice wide boat-necky ballet-like neckline, although I was puzzled by the way the neckline look varied widely (without declaration of modifications).  Maybe it’s just different body types (shoulder width and length from top of shoulder to bust).

Because I was too lazy to modify via increased cast-on stitches, I simply cast on very, very loosely and let the initial row stretch out a bit more than as written.  It might have added a bit of width between bra straps, but nothing dramatic.  The edge looks smooth, anyway, and I’m happy with it.

And, that’s all I’ve got on Feefers.  Highly recommended.

Even if it ends up a size or three too small for your body size.

[scurries off to gym, a trail of variegated burgundy sock yarn in her wake]

I’m not dead.  My blog has seemed far, far away from the bottom of the rabbit hole that sucked me in, but I’m still breathing, and in fact clutching my way back to the surface.

Mostly I blame being slapped upside the head at work lately, but I did take a vacation in there somewhere, so at least part of my absence is due to something good. 

Yes, vacation.  My family’s lake cottage is my favorite place to be.  Usually it’s crazy busy with boats zipping around with skiiers, and usually I’m not up at sunrise, but I managed to grab this shot on the morning we left.  Peace, man.

But.  This is a knitting blog.  There’s no denying I’m way behind here.

Feefers is long since done; will post her FO shortly. 

I don’t have much else to show for my time, knitting-wise.

It’s fair to say I entered a bit of a slump when I finished Fifi, mostly due to a misestimation of the collection of flab I’ve been building. 

Fifi fits like a glove that’s a couple sizes too small after accidentally getting dropped in the hot cycle. 

I saw it coming as I was knitting, but I decided to forge ahead (motivation to work on that spare tire around the waist!).

But basically, my dear Fifi makes me feel like Two-Ton Tessie, so I can’t wear her for a little while unless everything below the boobs is obscured by a suit jacket.  It’s not horrific, just disappointing, because she’s so pretty. 

Photos with me sucking in my gut as much as possible will be posted all too soon.

[Note to self:  my bust size = small; the rest of my abdomen = not small.  Remember this.  Make adjustments.]

So  - my knitting ego took a blow in my apparent inability to judge my own girth, and I downgraded my aspirations from making another summer thing or two to acknowledging I might as well crack into Christmas gifts.  Seriously.  I mean it this time.

And I’m sticking to things like mittens that are hard to screw-up size-wise so as to avoid making someone feel fat.

That said, my remaining WIP is still hanging around like a bad rash.  I’ve spent a random smattering of minutes furthering my efforts to close out the pair of socks that have been on my needles for…oh, a year.  

Those poor Raindrop Lace Socks. 

Maybe they’ll wiggle their way off to make it under the tree in December.

My big ambitious project now is a blanket..but not a real one (I’m done with those for a while).  It’s a 8×10-inch mini-me version for Maizy’s doll called Baby, who, strangely, is approximately the size of a baby. 

Yes, this means it’s basically an over-grown swatch, but such is the nature of my knitting motivation. 

She requested one a couple of months ago after realizing she got the short end of the gift stick when her baby sister was born. 

The new kid received fresh-off-the-needles knitlove and Maizy got squat from her visiting auntie. 

Not to be duped, she draped said sister’s Summer Baby Blanket around herself and pranced around the living room - nude as a bee - twirling and striking poses for her adoring audience.  She garnered as much attention as possible before putting her clothes back on and shifting into What I Need You To Knit ME mode, starting with a blanket for her Baby.

She rallied for about six other things, too, and I took copious notes, but an 8 by 10-inch swatch is about all I can handle.  Sorry Maiz.

Here’s a photo of my impressive work:

No Babies in sight, so a pepper grinder filled in as the stunt double.

I’ll rebound, I know.  I think I feel guilty for getting behind on all of my blog-reading, too…all my friends are moving on without me! 

Knitting mojo - I command you to return.

Pretty please.

Fifi is nearly off the needles and - oh, for pete’s sake - she’s been in that sad state for over a week.

I’m going to try to blame this on the whole Michael Jackson thing.  It took a good long while to peel my eyes off of the media coverage, as extensive as it’s been.  I think I was overcompensating because when the news first hit I was too busy and far away from a TV to immediately soothe myself with The Making of Thriller on loop for hours on CNN. 

Everybody else was getting their MJ fix with funky Motown compilations of Little Michael singing his way into Weird Michael, and poor me, I was left to suffer in silence, stuck in yucky meetings.

Well, I made up for it by subsequently planting myself in front of the telly with my dancing shoes on.  My knitting took the blow into the backseat.

Does that excuse fly?

A few parting words on MJ, because really, it does suck that he died.  I know he’d turned indisputably wacko and all, but still.

All I could think of last week was dancing with Sissy B in our Flashdance outfits on the shag carpet in the basement, rewinding and forwarding the Thriller cassette a few hundred times to get Billie Jean and Beat It to play ad nauseam. 

Those dance routines were in tip-top shape for our stage debut in front of Dad’s video camera.  I think I’ve mentioned this before.  I fell down a few times.

Not ready to post that clip yet.

Anyhoo.  Farewell, Michael.  Object of my teenage affection.  Source of my delight on the big Grammy night.  Enabler whenever and wherever I want to Blame It on the Boogie, from now until I just can’t boogie no more.

In the absence of knitting news, I did want to make mention of a little gem I discovered in the way of yummy treats.

Allison over at The Whole Ball of Yarn(s) is open for business with Lilah Bug Bakes.  She’s the kind of person who comes up with recipes for things like Mojito Truffles, so you can understand why this chickadee has my attention.

Holy Yummy. 

Check her out.   Totally bookmark-worthy.

Upon learning about her store (after months of drool-inducing evidence of prowess in the kitchen had mounted on her blog), I scurried on over to her website to see what she had on offer. 

And then I ordered. 

Oh, the goodness she delivers with fresh-picked berries and the occasional irresistible twist (chocolate! amaretto! ginger! wine!).

When I received my package after ordering, I tore into the box to find two jars of Agave-Sweetened Strawberry Vanilla Jam and a jar of Bittersweet Chocolate-Pear Sauce.  There was some Pear With Caramel, Lavender, and Vanilla Sauce in there, too.

I went a little overboard in my initial sampling of each.

It started out innocently enough.  I thought I’d have a tasting party.  Um, a party for one:  these were my own sneaky treats.  I opened them when no one else was home to bust me. 

I tried the Strawberry-Vanilla Jam on bread, on bread with butter, and on bread with peanut butter (so it goes, right?).  But then I cracked open the Chocolate-Pear Sauce and drizzled it on vanilla Häagen-Dazs that I went out especially to buy.  Hey, the sauce needed a suitable partner.

Then, a few hours and a Corona or two later, I waddled to the freezer for another scoop of ice cream (”Those containers need to be bigger,” says my tummy; “Noooooo!” says my waistline).  This time I put the Chocolate-Pear AND the Strawberry-Vanilla on top.  OK, and a tiny dollop of peanut butter, since it was already out.

What a little piggy!  Oh well, we all need a bit of excess now and then.  (Wait, can there be only a bit of excess? or does it have to be a lot of excess? or maybe just plain excess?) 

On a healthier note, my proto-garden is still taking baby steps.  Any forward progress I consider a victory.

The tomatoes didn’t take the first time so I had to re-plant the seeds when they didn’t show signs of life after two weeks.

The one plant in front has been flaunting its comparative girth in front of its tiny backup dancers. 

I’ll transplant a few of them now that they’re growing (note that this is well outside any gardening skills I even pretend to possess) to give them all a little more room to accommodate the fatty in front.

The beans took off running from the beginning, so they’re considerably ahead.

Let’s see if these guys can hold my attention long enough for me to notice if and/or when they actually bear fruit.

Bear veggies.

But technically the tomato…really fruit…right?  Whatever. Something’s growing.

I’ve been holding off to see if Sissy B is gonna have this kid already before I post my hurrah-it’s-done Summer Baby Blanket FO.

Her due date has passed, so she’s been left to wait patiently for el laboro.  And she’s not the only one.  Maizy and E-dot are all over this baby thing.

There’s no way in heckfire I’m posting the FO yet; it seems jinxy.  Good to have the gift done before baby is born, good to bestow soon after baby is born, which also seems a good time to post the FO.

In the mean time, I’ve had a couple of posts come and go in my head without actually posting them.  The most elaborate one involved a rant about being grumpy on an airplane; slightly peeved to find a bunch of colleagues boarding a plane to the same place I was going.  This was unfortunate because I suspected my plans to knit obsessively for several hours (and maybe even finish an elusive crochet border) could be thwarted by the need to appear more committed to productivity.

It was also unfortunate because I was caught unprepared in the Looking Professional department. 

I’d rolled out of bed and proceeded to the airport looking very greasy indeed.  No shower, so the hair was a bit wild; in fact, I don’t think I even brushed it.  Straight to the messy but functional ponytail.

And, I’m not quite sure my make-up remover from the night before had done the complete job; I seem to remember a bit of smudged eyeliner lingering near one eye.  It wasn’t a pretty sight.

Anyway, there I am, looking ship-shape for promotion in my I’m-sure-no-one-will-see-me travel outfit.

I really should have known they’d be on the same flight with me since there was a big conference happening, but sadly, this did not cross my mind when I arose at 6AM to head to the airport.  The scary thing is that this has happened before.  Recently.

I’m an idiot.

It’s not a huge problem, really, knitting on a plane in the presence of colleagues, but it’s true that I had work to do (yeah, like the kind they pay me for) and my laptop was right there.  So I was forced to abandon the productivity-eschewing ways of my D hook to do stupid work.

Until my battery ran out.

Well.

OK, it didn’t actually run out, per se, since I just got a new extended life battery (curses!), but it was plausible that it could have run out after two hours, especially when I shut it down and said (to whoever might hear), “Wow, this battery is really losing its mojo.”

Then I got my blankie out and powered through another row of the border.

I love the way the crochet turned out, but I’ll save that report for the FO post.  Suffice it to say that there were a few bumps in the road with this part, because I’m an idiot (see above) who reads directions, understands them completely, and then ignores them.  But more on that another time. 

It’s fun, the crocheting.  It’s a yarn hog, though.  I think I knew this before about crochet but had forgotten. It does make sense as there’s a lot of stitching before much is produced. Crochet fabric, made out of simple stitches, is definitely denser than the average stockinette.

I ran out of yarn about two-thirds of the way through the border; or at least what seemed like two-thirds of the way.

I couldn’t believe one skein didn’t do it. I mean, it’s a trim, right?

Point is, I needed to make an emergency run to get another skein.  I had to call six LYSes to find anyone even carrying Blue Sky Alpacas, let alone my Skinny Organic.  Love it.

As much as I complain about the quality of my LYSes (not even all local, but within a 30-mile radius), it was sad to learn in the course of these calls that two of the shops I’d visited before had closed since the last time I went a-calling.  I feel bad – even though it was, in all honesty, probably because they sucked that they closed.

Right, so Summer Baby Blanket - that’s where things are until that new baby comes out to receive it.

After the blanket was off the needles, on the last leg of my return trip home (I did shower before getting on that plane), Fifi, bless her heart, got a few more inches added to her.  She’s been so patient.  She just wants to be loved.  And I do love her.  She now has my full attention, and really, I should be able to knock this out over the weekend.  Should.

One more thing to share before I close.  Back on that flight from earlier (the one where I was stinky): after we’d all boarded and were more or less seated comfortably in our little rows and things had gotten nice and quiet, I hear a voice half-shouting half-singing, “Spank the monkey!”

“Ohhhhhhhh….spank the monkey!” 

The guy on the aisle in my row had piped up with these lyrics, which may have been coming from his own head (no iPod in sight).  I think it might have been Peter Gabriel’s “Shock the Monkey,” except with “spank” in there instead.

At first I thought he might have been trying to embarrass or entertain a friend traveling next to or near him. He got a few glances but I saw no takers in what might have been a little inside joke. One of the dudes in front of me craned around to have a look, but that was about it.  A fancy-pants I-showered-this-morning coworker also sitting in that row didn’t flinch, too professional-looking to be fazed by the oddity.

The freak show continued for a few more minutes, varying between singing, mumbling, and moaning. There were some hand gestures thrown in, too.

After the monkey-spanking, I couldn’t make out much of the song(s), but he was grooving over there to whatever it was.  I felt bad briefly because it occurred to me that this man might be mentally challenged or have Tourette’s or something (although I didn’t hear any swearing) and perhaps I really shouldn’t be laughing…but then he broke out of his reverie and starting maintaining a perfectly lucid conversation with the lady across the aisle.  Not in a we-know-each-other kind of way, but in a strange-weather-we’re-having-isn’t-it kind of way. Then he proceeded to fall asleep before take-off, and the weirdness was suspended.  He piped up again toward landing, and then smiled and nodded at everyone upon de-planing, as if he weren’t a weirdo.

Well.  I may play the role of Stinky on planes these days, but at least I don’t sing out loud and frighten my travel companions.  I don’t.

Pretty sure I don’t.

OK, so since we’re at about a month from blast-off, I’ll go ahead and unveil my Summer Baby Gift in the making.

Not that it’s some huge impressive project, or even that big of a surprise to at least one person reading this, but since it’s for a baby that’s not born yet, it seems worth putting a little drumroll to it, a nice sense of occasion.

Usually I wait until the kid makes an appearance, but ehhh.  Spill the beans.

So Sissy B is having another one; this’ll make three.  She’s already got plenty on her hands with my two little nieces, and this will spice up all 24 of her waking hours come June.  Not sure if this one’s a boy or girl as they’ve elected to wait to find out. 

At least that’s what they’ve told me.  It’s possible they are sneaking around giggling behind everyone’s backs, secretly knowing.

Maizy calls her little brother- or sister-to-be “Cellpho” (as in, yeah, get ready to dial), and she does this with some confidence, as if this common name has already won the contest for her sibling’s playground moniker.  Hence the blog name of this child is born, ahead of the physical debut.

Regardless of whether Cellpho is a girl or a boy, this kid is going to get a lot of girly influence, what with the two older sisters and all.  (It seems weird to call E-dot - pictured here: awwwwww - an older sister, since so far she’s been the little guy.  Girl.  You know.)

So is it weird that I always make blankets when it comes to baby gifts? 

I know it takes much longer than booties or a layette set, but I always think to myself:  if you’re going to knit something, then really knit something.  Something that the little bundle of joy won’t grow out of in five minutes. 

Sweaters for toddlers make more sense to me: you might get a good year out of that before it’s handed down.  But for a baby, a blanket seems like something they can really use (to the extent they can use anything, other than a breast).  They can lay around on it, drool on it, burp up on it (ah, the joy of machine-washable cotton), all for a good little while.  

Then, once they can walk, that blanket can be really used. 

Beat up.  Dragged around for a long time.  Colored on.

Loved.

But.  Am I boring?  Should I branch out?  Put a little more thought into it?  If you had a kid, what would you want to receive?

Too late now on this one - but your opinions would either pacify my concerns that I’m in a rut with baby creativity or spur me on to make interesting-er tiny things in the future.

On the color, as I believe I announced when I started this thing, we have Blue Sky Alpacas Skinny Dyed in Pear (yes, that’s another name for green, and I think this may have been the start of what Clumsy Knitter kindly called Greenmersion, rather than a Green Problem).  But this hue seemed a good bet for a maybeboymabyegirl baby.

Here’s a little preview.  The repeats bunch up a bit unless they’re nice and stretched: blocking will help this.  (Yes, that is my new red bedspread behind it.  Oh, glorious red.)

Now that I look at it (a lot, often), the lace pattern on my Summer Blanket (otherwise known as “24-25-48 Lace Baby Blanket“, which is the catchy name the Japanese designer gave it) does look a bit more feminine than not feminine.  I was shooting for neutral in the beginning.  But hey - even boy babies are all soft and pretty.  I think a daisy-like pattern will probably fly if indeed a penis makes an appearance.

And there is the aforementioned girly factor that will surround this child. 

Right, OK, stop worrying about the lace pattern.  Good thing, since I’m probably about 2/3 through on the length.

I think what sold me on this pattern is the cool crochet border.  Not everyone who made this (and reported back to Ravelry) followed through with the border, but for me the blanket is a bit lukewarm without it.  I’m not usually a crocheter, but I can hold my own, and this border is going to be spectacular.  I hope.

Feefers is chugging along in the few minutes I can find here and there to work on it.

More time lately on Summer Blanket, which tends to get done on planes, when for some reason the monotony doesn’t bother me as much.  And I don’t like hassling with patterns when other people’s elbows are already touching mine in a fight for the armrest.

So this is the state of affairs that leads me into the weekend.  At this point I’m craving quiet:  sweet, still, quiet laziness.

And some fries with that.