Hello, my name is Django MacDougall

As regular readers will know, music plays a significant role in the TSMK household. So much so in fact, that some of us - while no doubt under the influence of Euterpe – will forget to wear clothes.

We’ve yet to come across a musical genre that wasn’t liked by at least one member of the family. My tastes are all over the proverbial map and, actually, if they were to be plotted on a map I think I’d be able to identify at least one favorite artist or style from six continents, and many regions within. I say six not because I’ve affirmatively ruled out Antarctica, but rather because I don’t think I’ve yet come across any music from that area. Who knows - one day I may hear a recording of some particularly syncopated stylings from a group of Aptenodytes forsteri and then I’ll be able to claim victory on all seven.



One of my long favorites is gypsy jazz. I can listen to recordings of Stéphane Grappelli, Django Reinhardt and the like for hours on end. It makes great accompaniment for knitting, reading, playing with the kids, enjoying a hand-rolled cigar or drinking a fine glass of just about anything. My only trouble with the genre is that it makes me somewhat inadequate. For most of his career, Reinhardt had the full use of only three fingers (well, two fingers and a thumb) on his left hand. And yet his fretwork is lithe, fluid and blindingly fast. I have full function of all my fingers, but can’t play the transcriptions of his solos (although I don’t play guitar to pay the bills – I might be better if that was my day job. Alternatively, I might starve).

Although I will concede that it doesn’t make for terribly good music to knit by, I also enjoy bagpipe music. I’m not sure why. Perhaps my affinity for the bagpipes is linked to whatever genetic flaw causes me to also enjoy the banjo. In any event, my love of the pipes is one which is unshared by Mrs. TSMK or, indeed, by my two oldest boys. It’s too to say whether the baby likes the pipes – but I’m telling myself that he will. The dogs seem something between noncommittal and outwardly hostile toward the music. The cat is aloof.

So with all that being said, I’m pleased to report that on Christmas morning, I rushed downstairs with the children to see what Santa might have brought. This year, Santa brought the children and Mrs. TSMK a number of nice gifts. But he saved the best (in my opinion) for me: a set of highland pipes, a practice chanter, and an instructional book with accompanying DVD. I was in heaven. Mrs. TSMK – not so much – but she is being a good sport.

To accompany the pipes, and yet tip my cap to my enjoyment of gypsy jazz and its predominantly French influence, I decided I needed a new hat. So I looked through some beret patterns, as well as some patterns for tams, and came up with my own design. Here it is in all its glory. It was a quick knit – started on Friday night and finished Sunday morning. I used Cascade 220 for both colors – and then felted it very slightly.

Santa wasn’t the only one who was good to me on Christmas, however, I also received some wonderful knitting stuff from Mrs. TSMK and the kids. Two hanks (one shown) of Plucky Knitter 8-ply cashmere in a light blue, one hank of Plucky Knitter lace weight 50/50 silk/merino (700+ yds!) in a wine color and two hanks (one shown) of Jade Sapphire hand spun Mongolian Cashmere in "Kelp". Plus, a set of ebony circulars and a set of rosewood circulars, and an awesome new book: The Knitter’s Book of Wool by Clara Parks. Now what to make. . .?

~TSMK

There is no spoon

In the climax of The Matrix, Neo is finally able to see through the "reality" of what is appearing before his eyes. Instead of seeing Agent Smith he sees a stream of cascading information. He sees that the walls of the tenement building in which the scene occurs are actually luminous bits and bytes of data. And he sees that the bullet that has been fired at him is also data: data which can be manipulated however he sees fit. Neo has finally realized that there is, indeed, no spoon.

Usually, knitting lace is a lot like that scene. Honestly.

It sounds strange, but I typically find that somewhere in the course of a lace project, the pattern suddenly makes sense. I am able to see where I am in the pattern. To see how my current stitch relates to the pattern as a whole, and to see how one change of that stitch might change the pattern in significant ways. This is a kind of epiphany - and I always enjoy the chance to play "Neo with Needles".

Except, of course, for those occasions when the epiphany never arrives.

Unfortunately, that was my experience with the Curved Shawl with Diamond Edging from Jane Sowerby's Victorian Lace Today. Frequent readers of this blog will note that I've complained of this pattern before. The piece is now done, and I'm pleased with the result, but I have to say that I never did have an opportunity to express my inner-Neo with this one. The pattern simply never made sense.

Each individual stitch made perfect sense. Also, each of the rows was relatively straight forward, but the relationship of one row to the next consistently confused me. Partly, I think this is because there really aren't any rows of rest. Most of the lace work I've done has been in either straight stockinette or straight garter stitch - meaning that the wrong side of the work is either straight-across purl stitches or straight-across knit stitches. This pattern is arguably garter stitch in nature, but the wrong-side works a number of yarn-overs and decreases as well. Incorporating those into the work made it very difficult for me to see where I was at any given time within the context of the four-row repeat.

Also, once you manage to get the central section completed, you have the opportunity to work the edging all around the piece. Because the 16-row edging repeat connects to four rows of the central section, this takes quite a while. I managed to frog the edging section multiple times before getting it right.

All that said, I'm pleased with the result, and Mrs. TSMK seems to be as well. It came off the blocking this morning, and she immediately threw it over her shoulders to head out the door.

So, here it is. Curved Shawl with Diamond Edging - done in Plucky Knitter two-ply lace weight cashmere - Color is "Mouse of Madrone."

~TSMK

Frogging in Public

In my family growing up, "to frog" was a verb, and not a very pleasant one at that. Frogging was something that you wouldn't do in polite company, and certainly never in church. It was the kind of thing that I've been told British people never do, and the kind of thing our family dog seemed to do all the time. She was a Boxer - apparently they're known for it.

In any event, when I first began knitting, I marveled at the number of references to "frogging" a project. What could this mean? If it meant what I thought it meant, how was it even logistically possible? Growing up I'd heard stories of people trying to light these things (never seemed like a good idea to me), but never before heard anything about this mysterious nexus between knitting and flatulence. I was flummoxed.

Later, of course, I learned that "frogging" in the knitting context simply meant to rip something out and start over.

Still, frogging is something I'm loathe to do in public. To me, there's a bit of a feeling of failure involved. If I'm going to admit defeat, I prefer to do that in private. With that in mind, I typically rip things out late at night, when the entire TSMK household is asleep.

All of this is a long way of saying that I've again ripped out the Victorian Lace pattern with the error (http://thestraightmaleknitter.blogspot.com/2009/08/to-rip-or-not-to-rip.html) and started over. A few readers suggested that if I didn't do this, my eye would be drawn to the error immediately, every time I looked at the finished piece. Those readers were right, of course. Although I'd secretly hoped that someone in the ether would agree with Mrs. TSMK and tell me that I'd never notice the error once it was finished - not a single person echoed her sentiment.

This time, I'm trying to convince myself to use lifelines. I typically prepare a brief chart that I can use to check off my rows. For lace patterns, I like this approach because it lets me see not only which row I'm on, but also which repeat. For this pattern, I've included a reference to lifelines in the chart. We'll see if I have the discipline to follow my own instructions.

So far, using the lifelines has helped. I'm a few hours into re-knitting the shawl, and so far everything is going according to plan.

-TSMK