Amigurumi pour mes amis

Oui, je sais que j'ai utilisé deux langues. And most people don't understand either language.  I'll admit, I barely know the latter nowadays and my grasp of the former is limited to pleasantries and the word in the title. So why am I using it you ask?

Because who wants to say "I'm making a knitted or crocheted stuffed doll" every time they're asked when they could just as easily declare "I'm making an amigurumi" instead.

Broken down into its components,  amigurumi is made of two words. Ami meaning knit or crocheted and nuigurumi meaning stuffed doll. Often the word is used to describe cute animal representations, but anthropomorphic inanimate objects such as food are extremely popular as well.

And when popular culture is inundated with animated feature films and tv shows, the obvious leap is to convert 2D images into soft 3D companions.

Instagram is filled with creations of yarn and stuffing in the image of animated characters. I have even done them myself.

For those who have an adoration of food, how about a healthy fruit filled morning?

Like this strawberry

Or maybe a tomato?

For those who need a little more sustenance, I always love dumplings!

When it comes to animated and scifi love, there's nothing a girl can't do with some yarn, a little stuffing, black beads and a hook. After all, there's a reason why we crocheters often dub ourselves happy hookers. ;)

Any Doctors out there? Or perhaps Dr lovers? If so, you need to have Oodles more fun in your life.

Or maybe you're just a kid at heart. Maybe you just need a friend. A personal healthcare companion to watch over you.

Whatever it is, you can't go wrong with any of the choices above whether they are for your own enjoyment or the love of others.

Lonely Starbucks Lovers

I started this ages past. And finished. But debated the posting.

Why? You ask. Because every time I set pen to paper and my fingers to the keyboard of my laptop, I give a little of myself away and... I wonder. Wonder if I should. Or should not.

Some debates are better left unspoken, so here is a posting from the middle of March and a little knitty goodness.

I cast on, the forest green yarn wrapped around my index finger and thumb, reminiscent of norway spruce, the color I have chosen. It reminds me of trees, of getting lost in the wild and leaving the world behind. It carries a mountain of regret and a tangle of broken dreams.

I never thought that I would feel this way. That my knitterly pride would be broken.

But when the sweater curse makes its claim, nothing will stand in its way. And in its most dire form, the creation of a sweater need not be pursued. No. For this version, the stitches have been cast for a pair of mitts, fingerless so that the recipient may use a phone, cabled for a look most elegant.

Dashing.

Oh, he was. The tousled hair. The innocent look. The loose fitting ensemble concealing a body I'd dream of at night. He was a rake. A rake of the first degree.

In a Regency romance, I would be the debutante, a diamond of the first water, and he the consummate rake, never to be tied to a woman. Yet, by some chance, we would be thrown together, our dislike stemming from shared misconceptions. For the man, the diamond is rough hewn, simple, without substance. For the woman, the garden tool is useless, unsuited for the task.

But somehow, I fall for him. I encourage the lingering glances, the meeting of one's gaze across the room, the brush of fingers across heated skin. I conceal my smile behind a hand, my eyes cast down. I blush.

I am rendered speechless and I know not what to do.

But that is a story. A story of another time. Another place. Another century where roses and romance hold sway. Where a courtship is rife with dramas, debacles, enough for a play. Where the players are pawns in the machinations of society.

I sit in bed and knit. My back propped against a bevy of pillows. Turquoise, gold and scarlet. Oh how I feel like the scarlet woman, the one of myth, of stories told. Shunned. Unwanted by those would would have her then...

But now... now a creature of disdain.

I weep.

I weep tears for a broken heart. Tears for time.  Tears for the torment I brought upon myself. For what I offered yet did not receive in kind.

*****

It is another day.

The stitches I have cast on are slowly taking shape. Ribbed for his pleasure. For mine.

The yarn rolls in the bag, chaotic movements completely at odds with the rhythmic clicking of my needles, the circuitous loop of yarn around my index finger wrapping round, pulling through.

It is therapeutic. The movements calm the thoughts tumbling through my mind, soothe my ruffled feathers, like the cock tethered to the air conditioning unit behind the apartment.

Knit 4, Purl 1. I repeat the words in my mind, silently counting.

A cup of coffee sits on the conference table, the product of a lunchtime run between two students and the need for caffeine stemming from sleepless nights and jet lag.

We talk. We laugh. We whisper and wonder.

The afternoon passes and we go our separate ways.

Home.

Alone.

*****

The night is more than I can bear. The silence deafening. The dim lights a testament to my emotions, the storm raging within.

I tap and type. These words... these words do not flow. They are not the happy thoughts of the week, the joy of long held dreams. Nor are they the hopes I had of a future now lost.

My eyes are wet. My heart is heavy. And the lights are yellow in this room, casting a sad glow upon my face. Like the man on the moon, I can watch all that passes but feel none of the comfort, the embrace of another.

The first cable awaits. Slip 1... 2... 3... 4...

I slip and knit my way around. Each stitch falling through my fingers, off the needles and out of my life.

How did this happen?

One day, I was still laughing. Lying in bed and loving.

The next....

I hurt.

I feel betrayed....

For, I put my trust in others and I love without restraint.

I give all of myself to those in my life and ask for naught in return.

I do not speak with the words of my lips, my tongue nor my wit. Instead, I speak with my hands and craft with them the shape and texture of what I cannot say.

I sit and I knit. The yarn is a comfort, a salve for the shards of my heart, tying knots to hold the pieces in place. The friction is a welcome rub, the fibers weaving together the rivers of my despair. The music of my needles filling the silent void in my mind.

*****

It is morning. Midweek.

And I cable. The twist in stitches confusing me further. My mind is a knot, a tangle of yarn, a skein left to the paws of a cat.

Nine rows.

One row for each month of the year leading up to our meeting. I saw him then, watching. And I looked back. But it was not to be.

We played. Feet tangled together beneath the table. Fingers locked together out of sight. And kisses stolen in the night.

A knock. And I stop, fingers stilling on my needles. There are other needs more urgent than mine.

*****

I sit. Back straight against the chair. The rooms are empty, patients gone and I sit and knit.

People pass and I smile. Nurses ask and I respond. But my heart is not involved. I speak without soul, without the feelings I possess, the animation I once threw to the wind.

Slip 1... 2... 3... 4

Another cable. Another twist in fate.

Third time lucky.

Third time doomed.

A three leaf clover of fiber, never to wilt, never to die. Always the same spring green, everlasting as the pine in winter.

 *****

The yarn... it waits.

I make dinner as the sun sets, the rays of light disappearing behind the shades. Water boils in the pot, simmering gently as pasta goes from hard to soft, the perfect tenderness... al dente. "To the tooth" Such language makes me want to bare my teeth and growl, a testament to the year of my birth.

The smell of bananas and sugar waft from the oven, telling me twenty minutes has passed. I do not pay attention to the time, the passing of seconds... of minutes... of the hours since I walked through the door.

I sit. A bottle of cider to the right of my hand. A plate of carbonara placed before me.

I eat... and I knit.

The stitches have formed a cable, a twist in the fabric of the fiber, the knots of yarn created by each loop of my finger over the needle.

Eight more rows. One for each hour I lay alone in bed that night.

1... I talked.
       2... I cried.
              3... I dried my tears and lay my head upon my arm
                     4... 5... 6... 7.... I slept, a fitful night...
                            8... I woke, wishing it were all a dream, a nightmare from which I would escape

But the tears... the tears they do not not stop. I remember and I weep. I read and I regret. I knit and I know in my heart that I will continue to love until the well of my tears runs dry.

*****

My thumb needs a place to sit. A place to call home.

The next row I count, I wrap the stitches round my hand, gauging.

Knit 14, M1R, Purl 1, M1L.

I continue to knit in pattern, the ribbing an easy task. The next row I knit, I follow the rib, adding the stitches I made. Two new stitches flanking an old. Two for the phones on which we spoke. Two for the hearts which were broken. Two for the time we may yet try again.

I increase. Another row gone. Another two stitches added.

Again and again. I add. I add stitches to the width. I add love to these loops. I add the melancholy of my heart to the mitts. And I add forever to the fingers.

Five times I increase. One increase row for each month I knew love. Each row more than the previous. Each row greater in number... greater in love... in sex and stitches.

*****

It is the end.

The end of the the week. The end of my increases.

And the beginning of the split. Knit 14 in pattern. Slip 11 to a stitch holder. Cast on 1. Continue in pattern. The words make little sense to those who do not knit. But to me, they are a beginning.

The beginning of the end.

The tears... they come only when prompted. But the pain shall remain forevermore. 11 more rows to cover the knuckles, to cover my pain and shift my desires.

I bind off.

Each stitch lying heavier than the last.
        Each stitch pulling tight on my heartstrings.
                Each stitch I cast off, I close off more of myself until the bleeding is staunched.

I pick up 4 stitches. One for each day that has passed since I last heard his voice. Since I last felt joy.

Knit 4. Purl 1.

The rhythmic chant becomes the salve of my soul, the bandage to the wound I bear. I knit and I count.

5 rows. 5 days since the first.

And I am finished.

*****

One mitt sits lone on the table, surrounded by emptiness.

And I start the other. New stitches wrap round the cable. The same number. The same pattern.

Yet different.

The cables twist wrong way round. Undoing. Undying. Another twist of fate.

Crafting Unsupervised

I realize that I have not posted regularly in quite some time prior to the last month. Truly, there isn't a very good excuse for not posting; however, in my defense, it was difficult to think beyond moving every month, doing rotations, studying for exams and finding places to live. It becomes a way of life, ignoring all the fun things. That isn't to say I didn't do an inordinate amount of cooking, less of the baking I'm afraid but fear not, even if my own adaptations don't make it up in a timely manner, I shall endeavor to regale you with recipes to try which I can attest to. As always, there's my Pinterest account which is just as good a source as I am for what goes on in my kitchen, whether it be in a shared flat in the UK, in a two-story house nestled in the suburbs of Long Island or down in the humid expanse of Miami.

This is a little post about why I shouldn't be allowed to craft unsupervised.

Top 10 Reasons Why Jenn Should Not Be Allowed to Craft Unsupervised

#1 I spend too much time procrastinating on Pinterest

            Seriously. WAY too much time. It's amazing that I get anything done when I'm constantly pinning recipes I want to try out. But it's such a good fount of information and ideas, there's just no resisting. Between recipes and DIY projects that catch my eye, I not only need a fully stocked kitchen with appliances but a complete craft room.

#2 Ravelry

            There's no counting how many patterns I have stashed on both Rav and my computer. This isn't even counting the random pamphlets, books and postcards of patterns which are scattered throughout my notebooks and desk. Now that I can crochet, it's like my fingers itch to make amigurumi whenever I see something cute. Like this strawberry that reminded me of Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs 2.

            Or I volunteer my time for test knits… which is absurd since I have other projects which need finishing. Why am I starting another… with a deadline? 

#3 Random amigurumi

            So this is mildly tied into reason #2 but I think it deserves its own category as well. I mean, my sperm was a combination of Giantmicrobes.com, the health fair and Rav. Turned out quite cute if I say so myself. If anyone hasn't seen the Fung Bros on Youtube, they have the perfect reasoning behind my fascination with amigurumi. Clearly it's an Asian girl like.

#4 I revert back to a child

            Seriously, half of the crafts I look at involve children. Whether it's a DIY costume or a hooded towel, I want it in an adult size. All those Disney and Pixar movies I continue to follow don't help the situation either. And then living with a 3 year old and 1 year old didn't help the matter either. It just gave me a good excuse to be a child.

#5 I have too much jewelry

            Alright, so perhaps one can argue that a girl can never have too much jewelry. But when every finger on your right hand but one supports a ring, something is wrong. (And occasionally the left gets adorned as well…) Never you mind the fact that I could potentially wear a new set of earrings every day for a month without doubling up a single day. That may just be a sign that I need to cut down on the accessories I make.

#6 There's just no room

            When your stash overflows the 50 gallon plastic tub hidden in the closet, you will know that the stash is too big. And yet what do I do? I buy more yarn, more fiber, make more clothes and accessories then… hide it in any and all recesses of my room that I can find. Look! A 2 inch hole, yay! It'll fit the heart I just crocheted.

#7 I have the urge to shop at Daiso, Dollar Tree and other thrifty stores

            Not only is this terrible for the crafter in me but why am I spending so much money at places that are essentially dollar stores? How can I possibly spend that much on crafting supplies? Actually, don't ask because I am not sure I can answer for that ball of yarn… or the card stock… shush… that wasn't 150 grams of pink beads.

#8 I end up cutting up old clothes

            Yes, perhaps I should also stop clicking on links from Facebook. But is it really my fault when I see a grown man cutting up a plain black swimsuit on a model and turning it into a piece of art? That is to say, I would never be able to wear such a thing; however, doesn't mean I don't want to try my hand at it.

            Some projects become like CakeWrecks or Pinterest fails, but this one turned out surprisingly well.

#9 My closet nerd comes out

            Silly scifi quotes. Check. Plain mugs. Check. Successful hunt for paint pens. Check. Truly, my love of reading has spawned something greater over the years. It all began with small classroom libraries which morphed into a library card where I could browse the shelves of public institutions for hours on end, filling my bag with science fiction, fantasy, paranormal adventures. Then, once computers and high speed internet became the norm (Yes… I realize I'm mildly dating myself), it was easier to indulge my interests, the hobbies and delights which helped occupy my free time and keep me from boredom.

            So perhaps it's a bit extreme to fill my life with quotes and accessories relative to TV shows and books but no more so than carting a WIP around for 6 months

#10 I put together random packages for friends

            So this isn't necessarily a bad thing, at least not for those on the receiving end. But between USPS cutting delivery days and the exorbitant fees UPS and FedEx charge for a simple package, if it doesn't fit in a flat rate, you will probably never receive it. Unless you are truly that special… and some people are. J

            However, I do believe the strongest deciding factor in whether or not gifts are received circle around the act of getting to the post office itself. Now, this is the true reason why hats have outgrown infants and tunics must be knit at larger gauge.

What (K)not to say

I do believe the best thing about Ravelry is the community.

It's not snarky like some online communities. It's not full of little old ladies sitting at home alone with 40 cats like some people may think. And it is definitely not as placid as the design would have one think.

So what is it?

From ravelry :) See the joy?

It's all of that and more (well... maybe not the cats... at least, not for one person). It's a place where we can ask for advice, whether seasoned knitter or newbie at the craft. It's where you can garner medical advice that eventually culminates in "See the doctor!!" (But we'll always ask to see if everything is alright.) And it's where yahoo articles get dissected, not necessarily for the content, but for the knit scarf in the picture embellishing the model's neck.

Just as other social media sites have different groups, boards and topics, so does #Ravelry. On this particular board, I skimmed through the topic titles until I found one that seemed suitably humorous for the end of the day.

What not to say to a knitter...

Truly, how could I resist? Opening the thread was like opening a can of worms. See for yourself some of the comments which graced the article itself.

Now, I cannot say that her reaction was the most appropriate. Nor can I say that the continued insistence on the statement being a compliment was completely necessary. However, let it be noted, she has some good points.

I believe her last point is the one that speaks to me the most -  "emotional connection." Not only that, but it reminds me a great deal of Mastercard commercials.

Yarn - $20
Needles - $5.49
Glove pattern - $3.99
The look on their face when they unwrap the box - Priceless

We all have our stories, hers involves her husband, yarn from another country and the search for the perfect pattern. Mine generally involve the people I love as well.

My first scarf took me three months to knit. It was 1x1 rib in a worsted weight wool on size 10 straight needles and a heathered forest green. With tassels. My second scarf took me just as long. Not only that, but I made a rudimentary pattern from a stitch dictionary and even wrote it up and offered it up to other beginning knitters. That was the beginning of a trend.

I knew from that day on, seven years ago, I would never again knit a scarf unless I loved them. Why, you ask? Because a proper scarf must be a minimum of 5 feet, or the recipient's armspan. Because a proper scarf must be able to wrap around their neck twice to offer the most amount of warmth. Because the same pattern gets just the teeniest, tiniest bit boring by the time you reach two feet, 3 balls of yarn, however you wish to quantify it. I even went so far as to proclaim that I would knit a laceweight shawl before I ever knit a scarf again.

To look at the recipients of my scarves would be indicative of the place they hold in my heart. My best friend from high school. My mother (she got a scarf AND a shawl... and a hat...). My grandmother. My brother.

But to be fair, any recipient of a knit or crochet item holds a place in my heart. From the time I choose a pattern, match the yarn and cast on... to the weaving of ends (which I hate - another sign of love if you don't have dangling bits of yarn), I knit a little of my heart into each piece. Memories soak into the fabric, reminding me of the past. Pictures of the final product with their new owners fills the hole that was left behind when gifted. And stories of their use, misuse and garnered compliments remind me why some people will always be knitworthy.

True love <3>

Knit a Story

Each ball of yarn has a beginning and an end, just like a story, just like life.

I posted about this project at the beginning of the year and here it is in its entirety now. These boot cuffs can be a bright addition to a gloomy winter outfit of blacks and browns and greys and are an easy knit to boot. Yes, yes, terrible punning. Truly, there are times when I cannot help myself. But I digress.

The Old English Lace Boot Cuffs are simple yet elegant in appearance. The addition of a bow adds a special flair of femininity without being overtly flamboyant. And best yet, they take less than a skein of sock yarn. So for a bit of stash busting (we all know there are skeins languishing in the back closet waiting to be knit up and not enough for gloves or a pair of socks) pick up your needles and click the link above.

Another finished project this year is my Date Night. So I exaggerated a slight bit upon posting it two weeks past on another social media network; however, I do believe that this project was very much like creating a newborn.

Close up

First off, it took over 30 weeks. True, full term would be 38-40 weeks so my dress was a bit premature. But thankfully needed no bethamethasone for fetal lung maturity, seeing as it was never truly alive... (Sheep don't die when their fleece are shorn). And I luckily did not have to gain a pound a week beginning halfway through my second trimester, but instead was lucky enough to gain only 200 grams in plied wool for the endeavor.

Besides the time, the love in caring for my work in progress (WIP) followed me through to the end. I kept the unused balls separate from the project. All the supplies,  extra needles, yarn and tape measure were carted through five states, six cities and more than seven different apartments. I brought my baby everywhere,  kept her in my purse for long bus rides, in my backpack for the plane, strewn on the bed as a reminder.

Now... now she is born and there is no good occasion to wear her. For the warmth she brings by covering my body is almost too much for a sunny day. But the lace features openings for wind and fog to creep in on cold San Francisco nights. My dress is fickle but she is mine even if there is no companion for the date I made her for, her namesake, the pattern.

For more details on the changes I made to the pattern for a dress length vs. top, follow the link to my Ravelry project page. :) Happy Knitting.

Happy New Year!

Another year has passed and we are now 15 years into the new century. What will the next 365 days bring? As always, may this year be joyful and bright, full of memories to be made, friendships to built and maintain and perhaps a bit of love to blossom? ;) Now I get ahead of myself, that will be a post for February.

The beginning of the year is full of enthusiasm and optimism, wiping the slate clean and starting anew. A common question people ask of one another is: What are your New Year's Resolutions? Some hold that they are merely made to be broken. While others use them as jumping off points for goals of the year. So I ask of you the same question, as both a writing challenge for the new year and as a promise to yourself, what are your resolutions for the coming year?

Myself, I am not going to pretend that I will be posting as much as I want. But neither will I let my creative juices lie stagnant for long. This year, I want to continue to find myself, who I am, who I want to be and all the little nuances of my personality I have yet to smooth over and figure out. But most of all, I'm going to enjoy the little things in life, the aspects we all take for granted and make the most of each day. For a more concrete resolution, at least 10-15 minutes of each day will be used for something creative, whether it be working on a story, continuing a knitting project or crafting a new set of earrings.

So far, I think I've done fairly well, for those who follow the fiber crafts, this is the Year of the Ram (or Sheep) however you wish to translate the Chinese. And what is more integral to our craft than yarn, plies of wool spun from the combed locks shorn off woolen beasts and dyed into vibrant colors for our pleasure. This will a year of fiber and fun, of more knitting to come and crochet to learn.

Already, I have finished a test knit for a pair of boot cuffs by another Raveler, the name of the pattern which is yet to be determined.

Lacey, a pop of color to brighten up any set of boots and a layer of extra warmth against the cold winter, this pattern took no more than a few days of careful attention to finish. Links to follow when the pattern is released. Until then, stay warm. :)

Daily Writing Challenge - Austentacious

On December 16, 1775, Jane Austen was born. Now, in the year 2014, 239 years after the author was born, today is marked as the very first Jane Austen day.

I remember my first introduction to the world of Austen. It was 2004, the lights in the classroom had been dimmed and the small 12" TV hooked up to a corner of the ceiling started playing classical music. We only watched small excerpts of the 1995 BBC miniseries based upon Pride and Prejudice but from the moment I heard Elizabeth tell Darcy that he could not have insulted her in a more despicable manner, I knew I had to watch the rest.

Ever since that first introduction, I have read and re-read the novel a multitude of times and played the videos in the background as I studied an interminable number of times and yet still I do not tire of the story. There is something alluring about Elizabeth's independent nature and her tempestuous relationship with Mr. Darcy that cannot be explained. She is pert and sarcastic, with a witty nature that draws others to her, In contrast, Darcy appears to be aloof, cold and intolerant of the stupidity of others. Yet, they are perfectly matched. *sigh* Truly, one of the best historical romances I have ever read and a classic at that.

Today, as part of the daily writing challenge, I draw upon the world Jane Austen grew up in, the country of her heritage. Today, it is not so much a writing exercise but an exercise in humor, in craft and the incorporation of historical events.

As I am sure many of you have encountered, the slogan KEEP CALM AND CARRY ON has permeated even American society. But at the beginning, it was a motivational poster created by the British government in 1939 to rally the public in preparation for the Second World War. This was the third of such posters created; however, never printed. The other two read "Freedom is in Peril, Defend it with all your Might" and "Your Courage, Your Cheerfulness, Your Resolution, Will Bring Us Victory."

A number of parodies have evolved from the initial campaign but the idea behind the posters remains. The slogans are often motivational or serve to create a following.

Today, the challenge is to create your own KEEP CALM poster. A number of sites are available to create your own posters, the one I used is the Keep-Calm-o-matic.  You can link it to a social media account or make your own with anonymity.

Here are some of my creations which tie into interests or have a loose association with events or people from my life.

In honor of this day

For my knitting buddies and Ravelry

Because who wouldn't want a cuddly ball of fat?

Back to Childhood

April is not yet half over and it's already been a busy two weeks, (Alright, this has been a post in the making for too long and it's actually the beginning of May now. But the rest still applies in terms of busy, what with starting Peds (or as the Brits spell it, Paeds), and planning sneaky dinners consisting of bill hijacking (I really did have to use the WC!) and baby shower baskets of sweet little newborn necessities.

As opposed to my usual food inclined posts, this will be more knitterly based. Yes, I realize that most of the words I'm typing aren't grammatically correct, nor are they real words. But as I've said previously, since I know what proper English language should be like, I continue to ramble along without heeding the rules.

It's been almost a year since we left the island and I had to say goodbye to all the babies and kids I've watched grow up for two years. It was definitely bittersweet. But just last month, I learned of more newborns who will be joining the world this year. That and my 6 weeks of pediatrics has changed the bittersweet feeling into excitement.

To start it off, I thought a little button-up vest in blue for newborn baby boy #1 in July would be absolutely adorable.

After looking through loads and loads of patterns on Ravelry, I decided on Pebble aka Henry's Cobblestone-inspired Manly Baby Vest. However, I may have un-manned it a little bit by duplicate stitching the whale from Save the baby whales! on the front. Since the chart was for working top down, the whale was upside down. Thankfully Adobe had the forethought to allow rotation of the page so that I didn't even have to transpose the chart myself. :) Lazy much? haha.

I hope it fits for a little while at least. :) And since I had quite a bit of the ball left, I thought a matching hat would be cute. There was only going to be one stripe but then I thought two would be even better. For the hat, I used the basic pattern of the Berry Baby Hat but instead of making the berry top, I just knit in the dark blue.

And now, the two together! Hopefully, baby's mommy will give me permission to post a picture of the finished outfit on baby boy when he is born. :)

Caribbean Chick with Sticks

The Caribbean is all well and good, sunshine and warmth, interesting flora and fauna. But what is a knitter to do without a LYS nearby?!?

I have to say that despite the lack of fiber-y goodness in close proximity, I had the forethought to bring a project with me. Happily and sadly, it is now finished. And part of the knitting process was even done at Tantra, a club in Maho, while we were waiting for the PhiChi/AMSA Date Auction to begin post-block 2 on Valentine's Day. =D

Granted, this is a terrible picture of my Vixen Camisole and it took an absurd two months due to studying and such. It was little short, so I added a few rows of single crochet at the bottom to a) decrease the rolling despite blocking and b) add a little length so it was less indecent. I probably should have knit the dropped stitch section longer, but I was beginning to get impatient. =PHopefully, I get to take more pictures of knitting in interesting places.

Diamond of My Heart Shawl Pattern

So... After much dithering, playing around with Excel, and realizing my charts looked exceedingly wonky, Diamond of My Heart is finally up for download. This is my first ever knit pattern.

It came about as my former roommate and I contemplated designing our own shawls after seeing all of the other pretty yet simple shawls available on Ravelry. I have no preference whether the pattern is "easy" or "hard" while my friend likes something of a challenge. So, this is for those who like a little bit of both.

The main body is a simple diamond eyelet stitch while the edging requires a little bit more attention due to the addition of hearts. This is a shawl for all those who think that diamonds are a girl's best friend.

Pattern Link Diamond of My Heart

Larger Version of Chart 2 With More Hearts

The sample was knit on US 6/4.0 mm 24" circular needles in Misti Alpaca Lace Canada - Colorway Blue Mist Melange and used less than 1 skein at 437 yards/50 grams.