Knit Sisters

Ellen, here are a couple more knitting rhymes for your future teaching pleasure:

Under the fence
Catch the sheep
Back you go
Off you leap

Stab ’em
Choke ’em
Drag ’em back
Throw ’em away

(This latter is for the “really tough guys”  aka boys 7-9 years old, and is obviously a variation of the one that the lovely Lorinda left in the comments for us.  Thanks, Lorinda!) I have many more rhymes where these came from, as well.  I can’t claim that any of these are original or even the result of extensive research on my part.  I acquired them from that best of all possible knitting lists, Ample Knitters.

I am nearing completion of the simple summer sweater.  I finished the second sleeve last night.

 

I also started working on the neckline edging.  I started with an simple lace edging from Knitting on the Edge, but discovered before I got very far that, though it is indeed simple, it was not simple enough.  So I ripped that out and simplified it further, eliminating the edging points.  (Do you sense a “simple” theme here?)  Here it is, only a few repeats in:

 

I like this, although I think I’m going to rip it out once again and use a smaller needle.  I’m not sure why I didn’t think of that before I started, but there it is.  I’m planning to go down to a #2 needle; the rest of the sweater (as you may recall) was knitted on #4’s.

I’ve been spinning those handpainted rovings, as well. 

And, because I just can’t stop myself, here are two of the completed skeins.

 

See that furry paw in the lower left corner?  That’s Tortellini, our old and grouchy cat.  She wouldn’t stand still for a proper photo, but here she is lurking around on the front steps.

 

And Hugo, looking out the front door in the sure and certain knowledge that, if I’d just let him out there, he could get her.

By popular demand (hi Amy!), I’m going to talk more generally today about teaching kids to knit, a topic with which I have gotten a lot of help, aid, and succor from members of the Boston Area Stitch ‘n Bitch groups.

I really needed the advice, too, because I am neither a parent myself, nor do I work with younger kids, so I tend to have only the vaguest sense about the developmental stages of children. In other words, I’m clueless. I had also had the experience of attempting to teach an adult friend in Berkeley to knit, only to discover that I really no longer had any conscious awareness of how I do what I do when I knit. I had to return to the fundamentals: what are the individual components of a stitch when they are broken down into units of motion? As I successful teacher of things like English grammar and history of science, I also learned very quickly that teaching someone to do something with a strong physical component was a whole other barrel of monkeys, an unfamiliar barrel of monkeys.

Long story short, what started out as a lesson for my friend became a genuine learning experience for me. It was humbling. And useful. And fun.

Teaching a kid to knit has all those same rewards–and isn’t it great, ultimately, to welcome a new knitter to the fold?–but I knew I should probably get some more expert advice. Here’s a compendium of the good advice and helpful tips I got from those more knowledgeable than me:

1. Some five- and six-year-olds can knit, but not all. Kids will be at different developmental points with their hand-eye coordination and small muscle control. Some kids won’t be ready to knit until they are seven or eight. How to gauge their readiness? The advice I got was that the child is probably ready to learn to knit if s/he likes to draw, can form letters reasonably well for his/her age, can tie his/her shoe laces or make a braid, button small buttons etc.

2. The great needle debate: here there was frankly no consensus. While some people suggested US #5, 6, or 7, this met with an unfavorable response elsewhere by those who swore by US #9 or 10. A maverick even threw down the gauntlet when she argued strongly for US #15.

No shots were fired, however.

There was no agreement on materials either. Acrylic, plastic, bamboo, or good old Boye aluminum?

Well, ask a contentious question, get a contentious answer. I should have known that knitters would have strong opinions about the tools of their craft. (I, for instance, knit almost exclusively with Addi Turbos and have sunk a dollar amount close to the 2005 GNP of Moldova into their purchase. I will admit, however, that they aren’t the best needle for lace. But that’s as far as I’ll go in my concessions…)

So in the spirit of traditionalism, I chose for Miss A. the closest approximation of the needle I had learned on, lo these many years ago: the Susan Bates US #8 aluminum. It was a short needle although the exact specs elude me now.

3. Which brings us to…yarn. Since this is my blog, I’m just going to pull rank on this one and say that you should go getcha some Brown Sheep Lamb’s Pride worsted.

Fabulous, fabulous results because this yarn is a bit sticky so that when mistakes are made (as they inevitably are) or the needle slips out and clatters to the floor (as may well happen), the stitches just stay put. Most excellent! And as you know, Lamb’s Pride comes in a vast range of delightful colors, many of which are bright and would appeal to children. Find out your pupil’s favorite color and go with that. In A.’s case this was easy: pink.

Luckily, both A. and I are pink freaks, so I felt well qualified to help choose a pink yarn for her. We went with the fuschia. We’re nothing if not subtle.

I would not choose a color that is too dark because it makes it harder to see the stiches and therefore more frustrating.

4. Scale. A small project like a potholder or a little garter stitch dishcloth is a nice, doable kind of thing. Here’s a couple of the latter, now faded, but still doing their job:

Or you can just cast on 12 to 15 stitches for your student.

Take-home message: nothing too big or too daunting.

If your student gets frustrated, suggest a break. Most people recommend 10-15 minute sessions. I found that with my little friend that she could knit for quite a bit longer than that, but that she was very astute about when she needed a break. So I could just wait for her to make the call. I’m sure this varies with the kid’s personality.

5. Teaching the knit stitch. It helps to use this rhyme:

“Up the tree
Around the back
Down the tree
Off jumps jack.”

I believe there is a purling rhyme too, but Miss A. and I have not gotten that far yet.

6. Technical advice. Here I will just quote Allison, from Circles, upon whose wisdom I cannot improve:

“I usually cast on and then start knitting very slowly teaching the
child the rhyme. Once she has mastered the rhyme, I have her put her
hands over mine while we go through the motions and repeat the rhyme.
Then I put her hands under mine. Then I let her hold the needles while
I wrap the yarn (and keep the yarn tension). Then I let her try to put
it all together.

I’ve had five year olds that get it in one session and others that took
several times and some that simply needed to wait.”

7. Books. I didn’t use them, but some that were suggested to me were:

Kids Knitting, by Melanie Falick
Kids’ Easy Knitting Projects, by Peg Blanchette
The Workshop Book of Knitting, by Ursula von Wartburg (Out of print; probably best found in your library or on eBay)

I can’t opine on these, but others seem to have used them successfully.

8. If you knit with your student, let him or her see you make lots of mistakes and then model an “appropriate reaction” by being breezy and cavalier about it as you masterfully fix them and show your student how easy this is.

This is great advice. The problem in my case is that this tactic involves, ahem, quite a bit of acting talent. But a lot of you are probably better people and can do it with no problem.

9. Patience is a virtue. Cultivate it, for it will be required.

10. Have fun and hang loose.

Today was the last day of summer school–woo hoo!!  Now, I really shouldn’t complain, since I just worked the mornings from 8:30 a.m. to 12:30 p.m., and plenty of other people were stuck at school every day until 4:00.  But it does seem a tad gratuitous to put in 5 more weeks when you’ve just finished up a whole school year.

In any case, now I have seven weeks of sweet freedom before school starts in the fall.  And you know, don’t you, how I’ll be spending the bulk of that time?  Why, that’s right:  pursuing fiberish fun.  I have many, many things I’d like to accomplish–no doubt more than I’ll ever finish.  But, you must aim high, no?

I’ve been working on the simple summer sweater and have completed the body.  I got started on the first sleeve the other night.

Whenever I can I knit sleeves from the top down, picking up stitches around the armhole.  I follow the directions in Knitting From the Top (Barbara G. Walker) for knitting set-in sleeves from the top.  (By the way, Knitting From the Top is a wonderful book which I recommend that everyone have in their knitting library.)  So that’s what I’m in the process of doing here:

 

The end is in sight for this sweater, although I still don’t know what kind of edging I’m going to put around the neckline.  I may turn to Knitting on the Edge (Nicky Epstein) for inspiration there.  It needs to be something delicate looking, yet sturdy enough not to flop over.

In spinning news, I am working on a couple of handpainted rovings, which have related although not identical colors.  

(They are actually more related than these pictures show.)

I will be plying these together–in fact, I already have some plied, and it is lovely, although I am not including a picture today so as not to induce fatal wool lust in my sister.  I’ll post a photo when it’s all done.  Both rovings are 8 oz., so I will have a very usable total of 1 pound of yarn when finished.

And now, off to enjoy my freedom!

Before I tell you about Miss A. and our knitting lesson, I would like to take a moment to enlist your aid in persuading my sister to GIVE ME THAT YARN she is spinning. You know, just a word or two in the comments about how you think I could give the yarn a good home and raise it properly to be the best yarn it can be… That would be great.

Because that is really some beautiful handspun.

Meanwhile, my friend Emily and I have had success in finding my wedding gown! I shall be ever grateful to her for helping me sort through the bewildering options. Although I don’t want to destroy the surprise element by showing you the whole dress, here’s a little peek at what the fabric looks like near the hem of the gown:

Emily and the lovely saleswoman, who had an unexpected gravitas and exuded life-wisdom, both endorsed this dress, which has a sweet, vintage quality. The second choice, upon reflection, was just a bit too much in the “hootchie-mama” category: plunging neckline, body-hugging silhouette, va-va-voom trumpet skirt.

The lovely saleswoman said sagely, “It will be your wedding. You will be standing with your husband, greeting people, seeing his family and your family.” Then noting my unimpressive stature, she added quite gravely, “They will be standing over you. You do not want them to see your bosoms.”

An apt point, I thought.

So once the dress was chosen, we could turn back to other things. Like knitting. Emily’s elder daughter, A., had extracted a promise from me when she was three that I would teach her to knit when she was six. To my surprise, she had never forgotten this, which is remarkable given that she’s had to keep it in mind for literally half her life. But such is the power and the allure of knitting!

A. is a very intelligent child, and she has a sensitive and loving soul. She has a poet’s depth of feeling. And she does karate. But she is also a bit of a perfectionist. Her mother was a tiny bit worried that A. might become frustrated in the process of learning to knit and have a slight meltdown. Since people much older and much more experienced than A. have had slight meltdowns over knitting (I mean, just once or twice…nothing major, of course…not the kind of thing that involves screaming and crying and swearing and throwing the knitting in the general direction of the bookshelf where it lands on your copy of the Clinton biography…not that kind of thing), I assured Emily that it would be no problem even if it did happen.

But instead, A. was focused, professional, and completely cool (her full initials are A.C.; just coincidence?). Here we are encountering a slight problem:

Recovering:

And continuing on our merry way:

What was fascinating and wonderful was how much A. improved her knitting skills overnight. Literally. When we came back to it the next day, she had integrated a lot of the hand movements that were awkward for her at first and had gone ahead by proverbial leaps and bounds. It was a delightful thing to witness. I predict a full and productive career for A. as a knitter.

Her younger sister, while still too young to knit, is a dab hand at imitating an airplane:

And a good time was had by all.

The drawback to using the beloved five-pitch English combs is that you are left with quite a bit of waste fiber.  Now, being the frugal soul that I am, I had to purchase a smaller set of combs so as not to completely waste said waste fiber.

So, when I combed that handpainted roving, I ended up with little bundles of fluff.  I combed that fluff with my double-row handheld Louet combs, along with some short pieces of mohair, and spun up the resulting sliver into a fine singles.  The colors became even more muted with the additional combing and with the addition of the white mohair.  It was a very pretty little bobbin of yarn, but it was indeed quite little.

 

I let this little beauty sit for a little bit, while I thought about what to do with it.  I knew I wanted to ply it with something, but what? 

A couple of weeks ago, in a moment of weakness, I purchased this largish bag of raw kid mohair from a woman in the local spinning guild.

 

What can I say?  The price was right, and she’s a local breeder of angora goats.  This is fiber from a bona fide Missouri goat.  That makes such a purchase almost noble, no?  (Supporting the local economy and all.)  But this stuff takes some serious fiber preparation.  First off, there’s the washing–we won’t go there in this post.  Suffice it to say that it is no joke.  After that, there’s the combing.

 

 

Then you have to pull the sliver from the combs.

 

You end up with something quite, quite lovely in and of itself, but it still isn’t even spun into anything yet.

 

Then you spin.

Then you have to ply the mohair strand with the mohair/wool strand.  (Because, as you probably guessed, that is what I decided to do with that little bobbin of singles.)  Wind it off on your trusty kniddy-knoddy, and you end up with one (!) skein of mohair/wool 2-ply yarn.  (Pictured on Monday, remember?)

And, because I do this for fun,  I’m going to do it all again with the leftovers I get when I put this roving through the five-pitch combs.

Then I’ll have two different, yet coordinating, skeins of yarns.  Yup, that’s the plan.

It’s been a quiet week here Chez Knit Sister because Alex, designer of this website, soon to by husband-of-mine, and general all around great guy (shown here looking for all the world like junior faculty at Princeton),

is out in Berkeley for a few days doing, you know, Berkeley things: drinking only shade-grown coffee, practicing Bikram yoga, and haranguing passersby with unasked for and unwanted tirades about attachment parenting. Okay, he’s not. I lied. He would in fact never do such things. That’s why I love him. He’s actually working on a website for a Berkeley professor.

But either way, Shelley and I are making the best of things, mainly by air conditioning the bedroom down to the temperature of a meat locker and enjoying all the things a dog and a girl can enjoy in a super-chilled room: crossword puzzles, books, beef bones, DVDs, squeaky toys, and of course knitting. Progress on Rogue:

Finished those socks:

I knit a lot of socks, as you may have noticed, and this has a direct relationship to the fact that I live in the greater Boston area, home of a functional public transportation system of which I am an enthusiastic and frequent user. I spend a lot of time riding the T and the bus. A lot. And this is time that is well-spent knitting socks. I’m not the first, and I’m sure I won’t be the last, to note that socks make a good portable project. I always knit mine on two circular needles, thanks to the remarkable Cat Bordhi, so I’m never in danger of losing my DPNs on the bus. It also provides a ready-to-hand topic for conversation with other riders and a chance to recruit others to the knitting life.

But most importantly, knitting on the T keeps me occupied, which keeps me from reading public service ads about health issues. Boston is full of public health schools that are eager to spread the word to the people of Our Fair City about disease prevention, screening, and good health habits. All great. Except that some of us, while certainly not what you’d call hypochondriacs, heaven knows!, are susceptible to worst-case-scenario thinking when it comes to health. This is kind of a problem because, when you think about it, the body only has a limited number of ways of expressing its outrage. That means that most symptoms you experience can legitimately be either (a) a sign that you should eat smaller meals and maybe exercise more or (b) the first indication that by this time next year you will be dead.

So without knitting, here’s how it might go: I toddle down to Ye Olde Tea Party Square, head over to Felipé’s, consume a Super Burrito with cheese, black beans, guacamole, salsa, extra hot sauce, and a couple of jalapenos and wash it down with a 352 oz. Diet Coke. Then I hop on the T. I ride a couple of stops, communing with the mellifluous sound of metal-on-metal as the train rounds the curves, and then…I notice the public health ad above the head of the rider directly across from me: “Are you experiencing bloating? Lower abdominal pain? A feeling of fullness? Vague gastrointestinal complaints like nausea, gas, or indigestion? Do not ignore these symptoms. They can be signs of ovarian cancer, the deadliest of all gynecological cancers…”

My heart skips a beat. I am experiencing bloating, gas, and indigestion right now! I feel full. I feel vaguely nauseated. Could it be? Am I truly not long for this world? It says right there that I should not ignore these symptoms. I better get off this train right now and go to the doctor! Or maybe I need to think about “putting my affairs in order.” Oh Lord! Why? Why me?

Just as I am getting hold of myself and preparing to be brave and noble in the face of certain death, I remember. The Super Burrito. The 352 oz. Diet Coke.

As they say in medicine, when you hear hoofbeats in the hall, don’t go looking for a zebra.

Now I could try to work on myself and try to become less crazy and less apt to be convinced I am dying every time I read one of these public health placards and more Zen-like and all the rest of it.

Or I could just keep knitting socks:

P.S. Sarah, I would be happy to take that new skein of mohair/wool blend off your hands. It will be a burden, of course, but one I will gladly shoulder. It ain’t heavy, it’s my sister’s handspun…

While walking Hugo this Saturday morning, I saw what I at first took to be a horse trailer parked downtown.  Of course, Hugo, with his super-sensitive nose, knew better at once–these were no horses, these were alpacas!  I immediately scouted out these alpaca people, (who were sitting on some benches around the courthouse) and asked somewhat lamely, “Are some of you the alpaca people?”  Of course, they were very nice about it and didn’t even poke fun at me for my dumb question.  Turns out, there were not one but three groups of alpaca people:  two groups who own alpaca farms in Kansas, and one group who owns a fiber shop and fiber mill in Kansas.  They were all there for the county fair shindig going on around the square on Saturday.  They had live animals, fiber, yarn, and other fiber-related goodies.

Well!  What could I do but invite myself to come sit and spin with them that afternoon?  So, at about 1:00 p.m. I trundled myself up to the square and horned in on Kay and Sally, two sisters (!!) who run a fiber shop in Phillipsburg, KS.  I took the Joy with me:

 

Kay was spinning up some alpaca on her Kromski Mazurka wheel, so I happily sat down beside her and set up shop, so to speak.  Her sister, Sally, was warping a small Kromski table loom in preparation for weaving a scarf.  They graciously let me join them and even more graciously treated me as though I were an old friend.  We all sat and chatted for about an hour, and then, off to the west, some very threatening storm clouds started to blow in.  Kay and I moved in under their tent.  It started to rain.  It started to blow.  Then it started to thunder, lightning, and pour.

Soon, Kay, Sally, and I were involved in Operation “Save the Alpaca Fiber.”  We frantically threw books in their truck, tossed skeins of yarn into bins, and bundled up beautiful woven and knitted alpaca goods, all the while trying to hold onto the tent, which was threatening to blow away in the wind.  Eventually, the tent did blow away, right into the nearest store front.

Well, we did get everything packed up into their truck, more or less safely, although not before we were all absolutely soaking wet.  Actually, I think we all gave up on the idea of staying dry pretty early on.  (At least I know I did.)  The phrase “soaking wet,” doesn’t really convey how wet we were.  Sopping, sloshy, drenched, down-to-the-underwear wet comes closer.

I invited Kay and Sally to come back to my house to dry off a bit before heading home.  (It was the least I could do after having invited myself to their party…)  They towelled off as best they could and I gave them a couple of old t-shirts.  Here they are, standing in my kitchen, still smiling after everything.

 

(That’s Kay on the left and Sally on the right.)

You know what the worst part of the whole day was?  I didn’t even get a chance to purchase any of their lovely alpaca roving before the storm blew in.  Sorry, ladies!  But, at the risk of sounding sappy, I now have two new fiber friends.  Thanks for the adventure, Kay and Sally!

In other weekend news, I finished this skein of mohair/wool:

More mohair news on Wednesday.

I would like to linger for a moment here over Sarah’s suggestion that we henceforth refer to her as, “Sarah, Woman of Transformation.” Not only is this incredibly apt, it certainly makes a whale of a lot more sense than, Alchemy, Yarns of Transformation. I hasten to add that I adore and covet Alchemy Yarns (of Transformation) and that I have warm feelings toward their delightful Charles Rennie Mackintosh design elements, yet…this whole “Yarns of Transformation” business is just…so…well…Sebastopol, CA.

In the name of great yarn and even greater dye jobs and colorways, however, we will forgive them.

Meanwhile, my sister, the Woman of Transformation, continues to transform piles of roving studded with “vegetable-matter” into lovely yarns like these. As “Sister of Woman of Transformation,” I am transforming her handspun into Rogue:

Cunning kangaroo pocket, wouldn’t you say? Sadly, with the incredible heat in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, we have experienced a work-slowdown on Rogue. Cotton/wool blend socks, however, continue to be knitted at previous rates of production, in accordance with the goals of the most recent Five Year Plan set out by the Supreme Knitting Soviet:

On the positive side, the heat and sun have produced limited successes in horticulture,

which is miraculous given that my gardening strategy rests on three pillars of strength: ignorance, absentmindedness, and Darwinian survival of the fittest. Here in Darwin’s garden, only the strong survive!

Other parts of the yard, meanwhile, are increasingly jungle-like. Here, an unidentified beast, captured by Wildlife Photographer Ellen, checks the underbrush for domestic felines and hidden bones.

To come full circle, our alchemical fiber friends out in Sebastopol actually have something to say about gardening on their website: “Without seed no fruit can be born, without soil no seed can grow.” These quasi-mystical, and yet somehow completely obvious, words of Isaac Holland’s remind us that it isn’t just ignorance, absentmindedness, and Darwinian tenets that make a garden grow. It’s also soil. And seeds.

A little Miracle-Gro doesn’t hurt either, I hear.

Well, I don’t know about this whole “knitting is the new yoga” thing.  I myself feel that knitting is the new tae kwon do.  No wait, I think I mean that tae kwon do is the new knitting.  No, that doesn’t make sense either.  Maybe I just mean that tae kwon do is my new knitting.  Oh, hell, just forget it.  (I do have to say, however, that I find more stress relief from punching and kicking and yelling than I ever did from the Downward Dog.  My Dog was plagued by the fact that I am a heavy sweater, even while doing yoga, and my sweaty palms would habitually start to slide away from me, making my Dog look more like a Downward Inchworm as I tried hard to hold onto the damn thing.)

On the knitting front, I am continuing to plug away on the Simple Summer Sweater:

I have gotten up to the point at which I switched to a straight 5×2 rib.  You can see the side waistline shaping up above, and here is a closeup:

You can see where I’m increasing back out to the bust measurement.  Now the question is whether or not to include short-row bust darts, and where to put them.  Big Girl Knits recommends starting the beginning of your bust darts at the level of your bra band.  I’ll have to think about that a bit.  My standard practice up until now has been to place the bust darts about 1 1/2 inches below the underarm bindoff. 

Ellen, I can’t believe you own some Alchemy yarn and you hadn’t told me!  And I thought we were close!  Have you been holding out on me about other things as well?

That stuff is seriously gorgeous.  (Actually, I just like to say it:  “Alchemy Yarns of Transformation.”  Not exactly sure what that means, but it sounds pretty cool.  Maybe I could adopt something similar as my own personal motto:  “Sarah Woman of Transformation.”  I realize that sounds a bit like I am a werewolf or shapeshifter, but no matter.)

To finish today, a somewhat gratuitous picture of Hugo hanging out in the armchair:

 What a sweetie.

We’ve been hearing for a year or so now that, “Knitting is the new yoga.” Like most of these kinds of catch-phrases, it doesn’t hold up well to scrutiny. (I also have issues with, “Forty is the new thirty!” Since I am nearing forty–but still vigorous!–I often get this from salespeople at stores like Sephora. If forty really were the new thirty, they wouldn’t be trying to sell me products like Philosophy’s When Hope is Not Enough. When I was actually thirty, hope was enough. But I digress.)

But for some of us, knitting and yoga do seem to coexist in our lives: see, for instance, the wonderful Yarn Harlot post of a couple of days ago. She wrote so delightfully about her problem with competitiveness in yoga class. I, too, both knit and do yoga (see below my yoga mat in its little bag surrounded by supportive balls of yarn my sister spun for me),

But as a few of you must have realized from my comment on her post, my problems go much, much deeper than hers. I figured I’d just come completely clean.

Although I have gotten a lot of benefits in terms of stress relief, illusory tallness, and general mellowness from doing yoga, I’m still like someone unclear on the concept. I have been known to pass the time while “relaxing” in the Downward Facing Dog position by fantasizing about what Chinese takeout I am going to order when I quit standing on my head with my posterior in the air. Or, since all I can see in that pose is my own feet, by becoming obsessionally seized with the conviction that I have painted my toenails the wrong color and that my toes look like horrible little sausages.

Part of my problem was that I started doing yoga seriously while I was living in Berkeley (of course!). I’d be the first person to say that Berkeley, CA is a great place to live. If you are not me. It never really worked for me; what can I say? I lived there for three years and never felt at home, not for one minute of any given day. It kind of wore a girl down some.

And as far as not fitting in, yoga class in Berkeley was where the rubber really hit the road. I used to go to yoga about three times a week, which was all fine until the morning that our yoga instructor wanted us to do a two-person pose that involved running straps around the other person’s waist and in between his/her legs and pulling in ways that seemed potentially damaging to the person’s long-term, um, fruitfulness. Remarkably, everyone else just fell into line. When the yogi asked why I was standing aside, I said, “Sir, my cultural heritage does not prepare me to assume these positions in public.”

So I already had that black mark against my name when the fateful day arrived. Here we were in the Tree Pose when a man fell over–just fell right over!–and before I could stop myself, I yelled out, “Timber!”

No one laughed. Needless to say, I was no longer welcome in that yoga class.

So now, even though I no longer live in Berkeley, I do yoga only at home. This poses its own difficulties, most of them related to my dog.

She likes to check on me when I’m doing yoga, which occasionally even means going underneath me when I am doing Downward Facing Dog (how fitting, yes?) and plopping down on my sticky mat. I consider this part of “working at your own pace.” You know how on the DVDs the instructor is always pointing out the woman who will be doing the “modifications” (translation: the easy stuff for the total losers)? She’s always named Natasha or something exotic. Natasha will be doing the modifications; Ellen will be working around a hyperactive, 50-pound dog. But that’s also fine! We are all about acceptance. It’s all good!

Here’s a shot that combines knitting (note progress on pair of socks) and yoga (note over-the-top sticky mat with paisley pattern):

In other knitting news, although I’ve repeatedly sworn off all lace-weight mohair, I keep falling off the wagon. It starts with a couple of social skeins, and the next thing I know I’m waking up in a welter of Alchemy Haiku and Kidsilk Haze, with no memory whatsoever of how I came to have this yarn.

Perhaps I need an intervention.