Reversely Cabled (a free scarf knitting pattern)

Show and tell for my knitting readers...

Knitters know cables are a one-sided affair. One side looks marvelously complicated and the other side looks like a lumpy mess. Most cabled knitting is knitted on one side and purled on the other – with a few stitches separating the cables. Because of this patterning, projects with cables are not reversible.

A Design Challenge As someone who designed knitting patterns for a short time, I rarely take the easy knitting route. But, I do like designs that have a repetitive pattern that you can quickly get the hang of and rotely knit. I had seen a cashmere reverse cabled scarf at Barneys. I know what you're thinking … She shops at Barneys? Well, Barneys is lovely, and I have had a few shopping moments at Barneys, but I drooled over the scarf at a Barneys outlet store. I wish I had taken a picture of it.

I had it in my head that I would create a similar scarf with reverse cables. There were a few requirements for the design: no background stitches between the cables, no edge stitches, and the cables should produce an irregular wave-like panel.

After a few failed attempts, I tried cabling a K2, P2 rib. The 2 X 2 rib naturally pulls in and creates the magical wavy edge. Even more remarkable, it looks the same on both sides! I promise, this pattern is not as hard as it looks.

The Magical Reverse Cable Scarf

Materials: Yarn: Natural Gray Blue Sky Baby Alpaca Sport Weight ~ 4 skeins Needles: U.S. Size 8 needles, cable needle

Directions: CO 50 st. Row 1 Sl first st as if to Purl with yarn in front, P2, K2 across, end k1. Row 2 Sl first st as if to Knit with yarn in back, P2, K2 across, end k1. Rows 3, 5 and 7 same as Row 1 Rows 4 and 6 same as Row 2 Row 8: Sl 1st st as if to purl with yarn in front, work next 16 sts in pattern. *Put next 8 sts on holder, hold to back, work next 8 sts in pattern, work 8 sts in pattern from the cable needle*, work next 16 sts in pattern, K1 Rows 9-15: repeat rows 1-7 Row 16: Slip the first st as if to Purl. Work cable from * to *. Work next 16 sts in pattern, repeat cable * to *, K1 Work for desired length. End with row 15. Bind off in pattern.

Happy Knitting!

Muddy Comments

Here’s the first comment I read Monday morning on an article I wrote for Care2 titled, 10 Ways To Help Kids Cope With Japan:

“my god how stupid is this article? coping with what the tv says? are parents really this stupid that they need an article on how to explain natural disasters to their mentally ill children?” ~ Jay

No caps, just hateful spewing.

Hopefully by the time you read this, the next few commenters will clean up Jay’s vomit. That’s how it often works on blogs. Maybe they’ll be all over him, and the conversation will go humming back to normal. Maybe. Websites have the ability to deem the comment inappropriate and delete it. They haven’t. If it’s cleaned up, the post might continue to get hundreds of constructive and adoring comments. Yet, this one guy feels entitled to bring us into his revoltingly unsafe world.

After three years of blogging, I rarely get nasty comments. I don’t let these types of comments get to me anymore. They used to. Now I just wonder where these people come from, and why they even bother to comment?

I checked Jay’s profile. Here’s a shortened version: Age: 37 Lives in: Canada Causes: women's rights, violence against women, violence against children, pro-choice, environment, endangered species, civil rights, children welfare... About me: sweet, loving, silly, strange, cat owner, loyal, average intellect... What Bugs Me: unfriendly people, the destruction of rural areas, people who won’t use their minds!, people who rape, ignorance, cruelty, bullying… Passions: writing, nature, making a difference…

What a crock. I’m going to take back an earlier statement I made. This does bug me. While I might be stuck in the mud with writer’s dismay, I have a few questions for you: Do you think all of our advancement towards becoming a more global community through the Internet has made us any more tolerable of each other? Should I moderate comments here? I don’t (except for spam). Is it only a matter of time until these slugs find Econesting and muddy it up?

I’m closing my computer.

Photo: Juliet Harrison

Japan: 10 Ways To Help

I shudder to think that Japanese children are getting tested for radiation as I write this.

I can't look away.

CLICK HERE for a round-up of 10 organizations I put together for Care2 that are aiding in the efforts to help Japan recover.

I'm giving to Save The Children...

”We are extremely concerned for the welfare of children and their families who have been affected by the disaster. We stand ready to meet the needs of children who are always the most vulnerable in a disaster.”

Credit: Kyodo/Reuters via Global Giving

Pothole

“I got the key to the highway, and I'm billed out and bound to go I'm gonna leave here runnin', cause walkin' is much too slow” ~ Eric Clapton

I was cruising down the road Saturday morning maintaining a respectable speed, and listening to music on my iPod that would make my son, who was arriving any moment for spring break proud. My little Jetta diesel was humming along when it hit a pothole and started to shake. In that split second, I remembered not to slam on the brakes and lose control. Slowly, I drifted over to the side of the road to inspect the damage. The right front tire was obliterated.

Next, I did the least gender-bending thing I could think of and called my husband. So much for all those women's studies classes in the ‘70’s…sexism reigns when there's a flat tire. He was about 20 minutes away at the hardware store – his Saturday morning home away from home.

After about a half an hour, a very pleasant police officer pulled over and surveyed the damages. I explained that my guy was tool ogling and would be by shortly. The nice cop and I discussed how to deal with the broken highway. He said he’s seen a sharp rise in pothole vs. car incidents these last few weeks. He had no idea when the highway department would get around to making the repairs on all the potholes. After a short discussion about our mutual love of rockin' to Clapton while driving, he bid me farewell and said he would check back in about an hour - just in case my knight in shining armor forgot about me. Ha, cute cop.

As it turned out, I did have a bit more time to think about the pothole situation.

If the highway department fails to deal with the craters before they eat up tires and rims, we might need to find a swifter, slightly more subversive alternative. I had written a post over on Planet Green that might be the key to the highway…Go Bomb Something With Yarn - Knitting Over The Edge.

Credit: Flickr - Pothold Project via CMYBacon

Muscle Memory

My daughter used to be a figure skater. Not an Olympic champion, but the best skater around here. So when she and her boyfriend came to visit a few weeks ago, I suggested going to the rink. After days and days huddled inside eating and…eating, we all needed to get out and get moving. My daughter lamented that she hadn’t skated since last year and probably would be rusty. She perked up when the plan included hitting the outdoor rink set deep in the majestic Hudson Highlands at Bear Mountain State Park.

We laced up our skates and stepped onto the ice. Kids bundled up in winter gear were racing around the ice in all directions - falling right and left. My daughter and I took the first few laps together. I’ve mentioned before that my dad was a hockey player and the members of my immediate family know their way around an ice rink. Being more cautious than I can ever remember, I found myself looking for openings in the ice where I wouldn’t get run down by the brightly parkered pack. I finally made my way to the sideboards and noticed that many of the skaters had stopped and were facing center ice with broad smiles across their faces. They were watching my daughter spin her magic. She still had it.

Once upon a time, I was a teacher and focused on one thing that I did very, very well…kids. Teaching kids became so casual and easy. It defined me. Purely and simply, the kids loved me, and I loved them. So, when a young boy whizzed by my twirling skater and crashed hard onto the ice while she was in mid-spin, without thinking I glided over, crouched down and scooped him up. He smiled up at me. I still had it.

Muscle memory - we’ve all got it. What’s yours?

Amazing image captured at Bear Mountain Ice Rink by Ben Ross Scott