"I am so smart! I am so smart! S-M-R-T! I mean, S-M-A-R-T!"
(three updates at the bottom)

My gran taught me to knit when I was about four, and we spent many, many days knitting away happily in the garden. Not long after we started, I noticed that the things my gran was making were far more interesting than the warped, holey, lopsided scarves I was struggling to make - some of it was as holey as mine, but seemingly deliberately so, and some of it was in multiple colours.

At the time, I was desperate to learn to do this lacework and two-coloured knitting, but as Gra fairly pointed out to me, first I had to learn to do basic knitting properly.

Ten or twelve years later, after producing many, many, many warped, lopsided (generally unfinished) scarves -- I picked up the trick of not dropping stitches relatively quickly, but even tension eluded me for awhile -- I got the hang of basic knitting. Then I figured out ribbing - it's still loose, but it's OK - and shaping, and officially had the skills to be able to make something other than scarves.

I decided that, given my limited attention span, I should make something small, so that I had a chance of finishing it, and that's how I came to make myself a pair of mittens. When I made my second pair, I wanted to work 'L' and 'R' onto the backs of the hands; Gra had made me a pair like that when I was a kid, and while the lesson didn't take, I thought it'd be fun to have them in adult sizes. Apparently, though, on something small like mittens it's easier to embroider the letters on afterwards than to work them into the piece -- this eliminates the floating threads which fingers get caught in so easily. So, I learnt to embroider from my mum, and the lessons on two-coloured knitting were put off again.

Two pairs of mittens, one beanie and a third of a scarf later, my burst of knitting activity wore off again, and I didn't pick up the needles except to give lessons for a good few years. Then my mum shoehorned me into knitting blanket squares for her women's group, who were making blankets to send to a local women's shelter, and that set me off on another burst of knitting.

This time I've been more productive than usual. This is not to say that I've gone back and finished any of the UnFinished Objects floating around in my knitting box, but I have very nearly completed a looooooong scarf -- the first one I've ever got this close to completing.

Alas, disaster struck at the last minute. I was right near the end of my last ball of wool, nearly ready to cast the scarf off and start in on the hated chore of sewing the loose ends in, when I realised that, lost in my knitting, I was late to meet a friend (as an aside, this excuse, when relayed to engineers, will result in far more mockery than refusing to go out because Doctor Who is on). So, I rolled the thing up, set it down by my favourite green chair, and rushed out the door.

A couple days later, I picked it up off the floor, unrolled it and prepared to finish it off -- only to discover that, in its sojourn on the floor, I'd stepped on the project and snapped one of the (plastic) needles into three pieces. This would not have been disastrous, were it not for two things: Firstly, the broken needle was the one the work was on, leaving me with dozens of stitches to pick up; and Secondly, I'd been using stupid fluffy wool, and couldn't see the stitches to pick them up. I did what any girl would do in my situation -- swore copiously, and put the problem aside until my mum comes to visit me next week so she can fix it.

In the meantime, I went back to my other optimistic project -- a jumper with a hot-pink skull knitted into the front. Now, this one has been a real drama. Not only is it the biggest thing I've ever attempted to knit by a long shot, but it's my first attempt at knitting anything more complicated than horizontal stripes in two colours. It's been an experiment and a learning experience; my gran never got the chance to teach me how to do it, and my mum doesn't know how.

Anyhow, the technique has proven to be simultaneously easier and more complicated than I'd expected. I've been twisting the yarns together whenever I change colours, and while it doesn't look pretty on the back (and, from my examination of things other people have knitted for me, doesn't seem to be the accepted technique), it has so far been successful, insomuch as I don't have little holes in the fabric where I've changed colours. But -- and, cliched though it is, there is always a but -- I've found it really tricky to get the tension right when floating the yarn across, with the result that my skeleton is seriously puckered about the lower face. I've gotten better as I've gone along, so he's not quite so misshapen now that I'm working on his eyes, but it looks utterly demented early on.

Last night, in a burst of procrastinatory knitting zeal, I decided to attempt to make my own knitting pattern, so that I could make something utterly unique and wonderful, and also so that I could make something which wasn't puckered and demented like the skeleton is. I'd been browsing the Dresden Dolls site earlier looking for any indication that the rumour I've heard of an Australian tour later this year is true (looks like yes - I found Amanda saying they were planning to come at some point over the summer, and they might be playing the Big Days Out, but if that's the case, I'm hopeful for side shows), and it popped into my head to make a Dresden Dolls knitting chart.

I poked around the website some more, and decided to try the logo with the two D's and the nautical star. This one ...



I pulled the image up on the computer, dug out some graph paper (aha! An advantage to being a failed engineer! Having graph paper easily to hand!) and tried to copy it down. Boy, did that not work.

The next attempt was more successful -- I turned the contrast on the computer wayyyy up, stuck the graph paper to the top of the screen, and traced it off. Then I pulled it down, turned all the curves into square edges, and decided that there were way too many stitches, and that the design would be huge.

The final attempt, working from that traced picture and eliminating all pointless detail, looked more successful. The design is 55 stitches wide, 32 high, which in 8-ply wool and on 4mm needles is probably about the right size to put on the chest of a jumper -- with my tension, about 25cm wide and maybe 15 high?

I'm in the process of knitting it up now, and it looks good so far. If it turns out okay, I'll post the finished dimensions and a tidied up chart (as in, not covered in white-out and properly divided) later. Looking at the experimental piece now, it looks like it'll be the right size and shape to turn into a laptop case, which would be totally rock and roll -- but I'm concerned that, being wool, it might get staticky, and I don't know how good for the laptop static is. Don't computer bits come in anti-static bags? I need a technical adviser on this one ...

UPDATE: To my considerable surprise, the finished dimensions are precisely what I thought they'd be - 25cm wide by 15 high. I'm getting much better at eyeballing measurements like that. The letters and the blocks came out really well; the nautical star, by way of contrast, is completely fuuuuuucked. The shape is just way off. I'm going to have to tweak the pattern a bit (a lot) and try it again.

UPDATE 2: I had a better idea than starting again - I went through and changed the shape of the star by duplicate-stitching over the more demented parts, and it's been pretty successful. I'm going to change the chart to reflect the changes I've made today, and then maybe post it. I'm totally pleased with myself right now - the thing looks tip-top. Now, what to do with it ...

UPDATE 3: I am grateful for engineering friends who don't ask questions when I phone up shortly before midnight to ask if I can please borrow a protractor - not even, 'What, right now?' The new chart is much improved, and I'm going to knit it up tomorrow (or more to the point, later today, it now being twenty to one). And now I am going to go to sleep.