The quest for thread

Yarn substitution can be a tricky process. If you are lucky, you will not find yourself substituting yarn for a project that calls out discontinued yarn. The more time passes, the higher the likelihood of this being the case. Fashions change, as well as resources, so what may have been considered a common yarn 20, 30, or even 80 years ago may not be as common now. It may be so uncommon that serious research is involved just to find out what it really is. (More on Victorian knitting later!)

 

The Daffodil Doilie project I have been crocheting calls for discontinued yarn. Specifically, either J. & P. Coats or Clark's O.N.T. Best Six Cord Mercerized Crochet, Size 30.

I consider myself fortunate that these brands at least ring a bell. J. & P. Coats and Clark's is now more commonly known under the name Coat's and Clark's. According to their website (which has a fairly entertaining timeline about their history, if thread history interests you) O.N.T  ("Our New Thread") is a special six cord, soft finished thread for sewing machines first marketed in 1860.

 

Now, I don't know about you, but I'm fairly certain this pattern from 1949 is not asking me to crochet this doilie out of sewing machine thread. I gather that O.N.T. has become a trademark, having made a big splash back in Victorian times. A straight Google of O.N.T. Best Six Cord Mercerized Crochet, Size 30 gets me more in the realm of what is typically thought of when we say "crochet thread" - that is, this discontinued thread. 1949 really wasn't very long ago, and if I was die-hard about it, I could probably set up an alert on eBay to purchase the exact thread this pattern calls for in vintage yarn.

 

I opted for something manufactured within the past decade instead, and for several reasons. I didn't really want to wait to find the thread and wait for it to be shipped. Who knows when it would turn up? Waiting during shipping is hard enough. But impatience aside, I've learned the hard way that cotton just doesn't hold up as well over the years as wool or other fibers. I've had many a strand of vintage embroidery or crocheting thread disintegrate on me as I worked it, but have never had it happen with wool. 

 

There are several big players in the modern market of crochet thread. Aunt Lydia by Red Heart (which is owned by Coat's and Clark's) and DMC come foremost to mind. However, in size 30 both brands come in a limited range of colors. (Think "50 Shades of White.") In the end, I went to a brand I'd never heard of, Omega Hilo Crochet in Pistachio and Bright Yellow. I still don't know much about them, but I do know something essential: they have Size 30 crochet thread in OVER 60 COLORS. And it's accessible. (More on my heart wrenching quest to get Brown Sheep Nature Spun Fingering balls in specific colors later.)

 

Conned again by the weak and aged

I spent Xmas visiting my grandpa at the hospital. He's 88, and apparently has very ironic luck, because he was speeding down the hall at my mom's and tripped on a carpet he made and broke his leg. A case of the revenge of the handicraft? Perhaps. (I can only hope that I live to be old enough for my knitting to attack me.)

So I'm visiting, hearing about his bladder and his violin making and his leg, just shooting the breeze, so to speak, when other relatives start talking about my knitting. (I guess it's hard not to, because I am covered in it.) Grandpa mentions the beautiful sweater I made him. (His adjective - I should have felt some kind of warning right then, but I was still unsuspecting. I've haven't been around Grandpa for about eight years, so I'd forgotten that he was wily.) My oldest brother immediately began angling for sweater, which I guess was a further distraction, because he's a big guy and that's a lot of knitting for me to think about. I managed to talk it down to some fingerless gloves, but while I was in the middle of doing that, my grandpa managed to get me to agree to make him another sweater out of some yarn he has. I was in the car already before it really sunk in.

Somehow, I had managed to agree to make an Aran sweater with a 48" chest out of unknown and unseen yarn that my grandpa has been hoarding for 25 years. (Do you see that "hoarding" link? That's worth a look.) Yesterday I was out at his house, trying to find the yarn. It wasn't easy. It wasn't easy even to find the bathroom. (Did I mention my family is a bit eccentric? Take a look at that "hoarding" link again, and then think about what happens if the person is crafty. Because Grandpa is crafty, in more ways than one.) I found a lot of yarn. Some of it dates back to the fifties or earlier. And I found the yarn in question.

I don't know what kind of wool this is. I'll have to ask Grandpa. But it was from a sheep he owned, and it was hand spun and plied. I think it's about Aran weight, fortunately, and frankly, it is awesome yarn. I hope it's enough.

Here's a blurry close-up:
I also scored a lot of other yarn, a ball winder, a rice cooker, vegetable steamer, vegetable chopper, hand held drink mixer, and a jar of olives. Because I was just skimming the surface of the Hoard. (Grandpa is a compulsive small appliance buyer.) I was a bit surprised there wasn't an airplane or something. (Do you think I'm kidding? Grandpa has a pilot's license. The last time we cleaned his house, my oldest brother scored a half-assembled ultralight.)

So stay tuned. I'm supposed to bring him the test swatch next weekend.

Boggled

Today I:

• had a piece of toast with cream cheese and a cup of coffee for breakfast
• have had a lot of coffee since then
• am having leftover fish tacos for lunch
• am desperately searching the Internet for Aran patterns

Weds. night I was pleasantly surprised when I got home by the arrival of two packages: my KnitPicks order and the promised yarn from my grandma. I was also late for the Stitch 'n Bitch meeting, so I only had time to rifle through them in cursory manner before running off excitedly with a bag full of yarn samples. So, it wasn't until I got home that I was able to take a good, hard look at what I had.

I was thoroughly boggled.

The KnitPicks order was not very boggling. Everything was in order, even the stuff I'd forgotten I ordered, like the dpn point holders. Below: 6 50g balls of "Coal" Wool of the Andes

Much to my relief, "coal" is just another word for black. The picture on the KnitPicks website had be thinking it might just be a very, very dark gray.

Below: 10 50g balls of "Avocado" Wool of the Andes

I expected an apple green color, and what I got was more like pistachio, or green tea ice cream. It is mellow and rich. This is not a bad thing. As luck would have it, it's my favorite color in the world (aside from black). I may have to order more. (Cat not included.)

Grandma's Care Box
I'm sure you've gotten one of these before, but not necessarily from your grandma: a box full of used clothing, new socks, packages of hot cocoa and a tin of homemade cookies. Just the things to make a snow day better, if you're not picky. My grandma happens to excel at Care Boxes. Alas, this time, there were no cookies. Or socks.

There was clothing. I'm wearing one of the sweaters now. It's agreed that if it doesn't fit me, or suit my style, I am free to do what I will with it. This sometimes means making a Care Envelope for Sibling #1 or a trip to the thrift store. None of the clothing in the latest Care Box was very boggling - that is, if you're familiar with the ways of the '70's.

This skein was a little perplexing, but not boggling. A quick flame test declared it to be acrylic. No more mystery there.
The "shaggy" yarn Grandma warned me about did give me a slight pause. That isn't an impaled sheep. It's a sweater. Here's what is was supposed to look like:
This Sumptuous Shag of Gespa Yarn is 38% wool, 56% acrylic, and 60% nylon, it claims. Does that add up? I guess it's genuine, 154% ecru fug, but I know what to do with it. It came to me almost immediately:

Bath mat.

Here is the boggling bit. Grandma said she had an unfinished project that she wasn't going to touch again, made of white worsted wool, and that there was probably enough of it to make a sweater.

Yay! I hoped when she said "white" wool, she meant "natural white" wool, because I have been dying to make an Aran sweater for some time now. I thought cabling in one color would be boring, but Kasumi's hat taught me otherwise. I have been searching like a woman possessed for a good Aran pattern ever since.

And then the yarn arrived. And not only was it "natural" white (Yippee!) and didn't smell funny or have moth holes, etc., it was a WHOLE LOT of yarn. Not SOME yarn, which is maybe a handful (enough for a hat, or one sock), or A LOT of yarn, which is what I call the amount of yarn that can be fit into a backpack and conveniently carried, but a WHOLE LOT.

A WHOLE LOT is considerably less than the notorious SHITLOAD (which is approximately twice A WHOLE LOT), but much larger than it's close neighbor A LOT. A WHOLE LOT doesn't fit in a backpack. A WHOLE LOT takes more than one trip to carry. For instance, you could say that in my apartment I have A WHOLE LOT of yarn, since it rivals the furniture, but I wish I had a SHITLOAD, even though I have no idea what I would do with it.

Which brings me to the boggling. I was so boggled when I saw that it was A WHOLE LOT of yarn that I said something that I rarely ever, ever say:

Dude.

Do you see that blanket? That's about 3'-6" by 4'-6", and it's meant to be cannibalized for yarn. Those balls on the blanket, the smallest is 6" in diameter.

This stuff is old, too. Look at this label. This is a testament to my Grandma's fastidious ways.

Dude. I'm 5'-1", about 110 lbs. On a chubby day I wear a size 5. How many sweaters is this? Tams? Twined knit mittens?

I think I need to go lay down.

Yesterday, I:

• had a piece of toast with cream cheese, coffee, coffee, coffee, a banana, and a fish taco at the Cheesecake Factory
• then had potato gnocchi with Newman's mushroom pasta sauce and some rose wine
• stared at A WHOLE LOT of yarn
• finished my Pocketbook Slippers
• had a sore wrist, so I couldn't knit much
• watched more Dark Shadows
• stared at the yarn again

Trapped?

Today I:

• had a warm croissant and a coffee with chocolate rice milk for breakfast (out of bread and nutritional yeast!)
• having some weird cream cheese mushroom sandwich for lunch, courtesy of yesterday's lunch lecture
• am a disgruntled worker, still!
• am going to go out tonight, buy some beer, and... update my work portfolio. (The beer is a bribe for the owner of the computer I am going to use.)

It is looking distinctly like my workplace has a policy against allowing employees to use their drafting work in their portfolio, which is nonsense. I have to show what I have been doing to advance at school, and in the field. I can just picture me standing before a review board at The Boston Architectural Center explaining to a hostile jury of professionals that I actually can draft, despite having absolutely no proof. Maybe my Project Manager will write me a note.

To Whom It May Concern:

Christine is a diligent CAD monkey, well on her way to carpal tunnel syndrome. She can always be found at her desk wrapped in a giant shawl as protection against the virulent overhead vents that blow cold air on her all day. She does not even leave the computer to eat, but sits in front of it, staring wildly like a mole in spectacles. Christine is so obsessed with the walls being plumb and the gridlines actually corresponding floor-to-floor that we do not even bother to think about it anymore, we just assume she will fix it.

Sincerely, Her Keepers

Not that I am bitter.

To console myself I have made a KnitPicks order:

• 10 50g balls of Avocado Wool of the Andes
• 6 50g balls of Coal Wool of the Andes
• and 2 of those funny dpn end caps that are supposed to prevent your stitches from slipping off when you're not using them.

You may laugh, but this is a real problem I have, being someone who almost exclusively uses dpns and carries projects around in her purse all day, just in case I actually secure a free moment.

Those of you familiar with the Wool of the Andes color range may be cringing at the Avocado. My only excuse here is that it's a craving I have right now. Hopefully, it will not pass until I have made the sweater and worn it for a couple years.

I think I am going to make a vest with the Coal. That is also a current compulsion. It is so frickin' cold. Where did all this winter come from? Yes, I know I said I was going to try to be Winter Person, but I am walking to work across the Fort Point Channel, where the wind is peeling the flesh off my face and hands. Maybe I can get a job somewhere closer to my apartment. In the meantime, I better start some gloves for myself, and actually get somewhere on the black alpaca basketweave scarf I started at last night's S'nB. And try not to pity myself too much. Sibling #1 lives in a trailer in Albuquerque without heat - today it's 11 degrees F there!

Maybe I should order more yarn and knit her a sweater.

The Stash That Would Not Die

Yesterday I was organizing my yarn stash and I came across my long-ignored needlepointing stash. I sorted it out and got to thinking. The yarn was given to me nearly five years ago by my grandmother after she cleaned her attic. How old the yarn is, I have no idea, but it ranged from shockingly colored acrylic to subtly-toned pure wool.

When I first got it back in 2001 I knew raw resources such as this shouldn't sit around forever. I wracked my brain for ideas and eventually settled on needlepointing a bass guitar strap for my boyfriend.

That's right: needlepointing an entire bass guitar strap.

Previously, I had consigned and sold a Scotch plaid strap I'd made at a local guitar store. I've never owned a sewing machine that operated properly for more then five minutes altogether, so the strap was made entirely by hand. (As were my quilts, dresses, jacket linings... I had a lot of spare time.) Because that wasn't complicated enough, I decided to needlepoint the Celtic Tree of Life. It would be 37 inches long.

And then I made it.

Okay, I admit it's not quite finished. The needlepointing took only a couple months but the black canvas backing has taken years, simply because it's boring and tedious work. (You can see at the bottom of the strap the loose threads where I haven't finished it up.)

I know that sounds funny coming from someone who did 148 square inches of customized needlepointing in one go, but I think variety was what kept me interested.

However, the bass guitar strap did not significantly diminish the stash. In desperation, I made a pair of Fair Isle socks for a little girl I knew and then put the stash where it would be out of sight, out of mind. I haven't seen it since 2004. Now I have dredged it up again, something which in itself is not a problem, necessarily, except that it does beg the question:

"What am I going to do with it?"

I still have two big shoeboxes of it left!