I took these pictures last night and then forgot to put them up here!
I’m nowhere, I mean, nowhere near done on the Tunisian crochet afghan (though, wow, is it really calming and nice to do while watching tv or listening to podcasts), but I’ve been thinking of how cool/funny it would be to make a granny square afghan–like an old-school different color every row, traditional–granny square afghan with big bulky yarn and a huge hook, so that the squares are comically large.
But I can’t find any examples online of anyone else doing this, which makes me worried that there’s some unforeseen reason to not do this. Some terrible problem that can’t be overcome.
Do any of you know of one?
I suppose it’s also possible no one has pictures of this because it’s super easy and nothing special. But I’d still like to see one.
Oh, wait! I found this. Okay, so it can be done and I think would amuse me.
Since I finished up the surprise afghan, I set about teaching myself at least some basic Tunisian crochet. The important thing I think I learned is that my Grandma’s hook must be for sock-weight yarn. But I found this pattern on Etsy and it’s really easy to follow and the leftover yarn from the surprise afghan is working up really beautifully.
I guess, if you’re going to learn any kind of crocheting, I have two recommendations for you. 1. It’s easier to learn on bulkier yarn. 2. It’s easier to learn on wool.
The parts of the stitch are easier to see on bulkier yarn. Plus, it works up quicker, and when you first start out, you’ll need some early victories to keep going. And wool. Okay, it’s expensive. I don’t recommend you buy a whole project’s worth of wool yarn if you don’t know what you’re doing. But having a skein of wool yarn, the kind that’s fairly stiff, to try out new stitches on is really invaluable. Wool holds its shape where as a lot of other, softer, types of yarn don’t. Soft yarn is awesome. Don’t get me wrong. And, once you know what you’re doing, floppy stitches aren’t going to stop you from finding the parts of the stitches you want. But man, to have a yarn that holds its shape, that has the stitch parts right where you’re looking for them as you’re trying to learn a pattern? That makes a huge difference.
So, needless to say, I spent a big part of the afternoon trying to learn this Tunisian crocheting with soft, acrylic yarn. It was brutal.
Switch to wool? Suddenly, everything is right where the directions said it would be and it’s coming together. Or at least I can see how it will come together.
In happier news, I’m about to start piecing the surprise afghan together. I hope to have pictures soon.
The squares for my secret project are done. I just need to tuck tails and put them together.
When I’m done, I’m going to teach myself Tunisian crochet, since that is, apparently, what the long hook my Grandma gave me a million years ago is for.
I’m sending this to my friend in Australia. I tried to surprise her with it, but I can’t keep secrets. I had to send her a picture of it a while ago. But, finally, it’s done!
If you want an illustration of how Ashland is going, I set aside my baby blanket after a gross miscalculation about how much yarn I would need and started an old-fashioned granny square, something that would sit in my hands and require no thought.
Reports from my readers are coming in and, I swear, even when you say to yourself, “Yeah, something’s not quite right here and here and here but I can’t figure out what it is” and then you say “Hey, guys, can you help me?” when they say “Yeah, something’s not quite right here and here and here and I think it’s this and this and this,” my immediate reaction is “Why does everyone hate me and think I suck?” Like, seriously. At this point, having been through this a few times, I know the feeling will pass. But it’s ridiculous.
I’m going to say that, in a way, I kind of get the Puppies. Not in the slating or the cozying up to that Nazi, but I get the massive amount of pouty hurt that they run around with. I feel that same pouty hurt. I totally get the impulse to say “Well, why can’t my shitty thing be good enough? Lots of shitty things are good enough! Fuck it! My shitty thing is good enough and I will destroy everyone who says it isn’t!”
Plus, that approach has its victories. It’s satisfying.
Whereas, the thing I have to do now is not satisfying. It’s scary. I have to crack this thing open and fix a lot of things. And, at the end of all that work, there’s no guarantee that it will be good enough.
That sucks and, like I said, is scary. But that’s the way to get to where I want to go.
So, I’m moving the black book full of notes back into my purse and I’m back to mulling and mulling and making granny squares with my hands so my mind can focus on other crap.
HOLY SHIT! I want to make ten of these. Maybe not ten. But damn. Damn. Damn.
I’m done with the tripping jaguar afghan except for the blocking (and the bragging, of course), which I will do tomorrow. I haven’t spread it completely out, but I feel like it’s amazing.
I took the left over yarn and started a baby blanket for a friend and I must say that one thing that makes me proud is that, though the baby blanket will be lovely–because it’s a lovely yarn–I don’t think it quite has the wow of the tripping jaguar afghan. So, it’s not just the yarn that makes the afghan, it’s also picking the right thing to do with the yarn. And the perfect thing to do with self-striping yarn, it turns out, are squares.
So, good for me!
I finished piecing the afghan together last night and I’m into the border. I’ll be able to block it this weekend! I’m pleased with both how light it is and how warm. I guess that’s wool for you.
It’s really beautiful. I am pleased. Anyway, pictures when it’s done.
I got the potato salad made, but then I went to the state museum with the Butcher, his girlfriend, and her kids, which was much more fun than vacuuming. I did finish the squares on the tripping jaguar afghan and I’ve begun putting them together. I am really, really pleased. It’s really gorgeous and I can’t wait to see it finished.
I need to make potato salad, clean the bathroom, and vacuum. I really want to finish this afghan.
Can it all happen?
I doubt it. I have a lot left of the afghan. But I’m close enough to taste the end.
Yes, I’m tasting my afghan. What of it?
I had to lay out the tripping jaguar afghan to motivate myself into believing that it is close and that it will eventually be done. I just have fourteen more squares to do. I think it’s really amazing looking. I’m not blocking the individual squares before I sew them together. I may regret that, but I figure the seams will help pull the squares square in the end. Plus, I have a spot I can dry the afghan–the bed covered in towels. I don’t have a good place to block 63 individual squares. Well, except the bed. But, damn it, I’m not blocking the same square twice!!!
Anyway, I’m pleased with how this is going. It reminds me of some modernist artist’s work, but I can’t place who. I was thinking Klimt but I looked through his gallery and no, that’s definitely not it.
I think my favorite thing about this color scheme is that it looks like the colors metals become as they oxidize. Some scientist is going to look at this and go–copper, iron, brass, etc.
I haven’t said much about the afghan, but it’s coming along. I’m doing it seven squares across, nine squares down. I have four sets of seven done. This weekend, when I finished up my third set, I said to myself, wow, the afghan is 1/3 done. And last night, when I finished up the fourth set, I thought, in three-and-a-half squares, I’ll be halfway done. So, it feels like it’s going quickly. Kind of, anyway.
You’ll be proud to know that I’m tucking my ends as I go, so there won’t be the usual moaning about all the ends I have to tuck at the end of all these squares. I can’t wait to see how it comes together. But the corners are so weird that I’m kind of wondering if I should block the squares before putting them together. And that makes me kind of want to gouge out my eyes. But it is a wool blend. It would take to blocking very well. Still, man, you know I’d rather wait until the end, when I have the seams to help pull everything into the right shape and size.
I can return to the tripping jaguar afghan. I really love it. It might be a little muted for the room it’s going in, but it’s wool, so it’s a winter afghan. I think people are allowed to curl up under something warm and dark during the winter.
I finished a very rough outline of the end of Ashland, which was helpful in that I realized I had in my head the wrong person doing the incredibly stupid thing. I also realized I kind of have a vestigial husband and I either need to bring him into the action or cut him loose. Also, I definitely have a kid who needs to go. Not be murdered or anything. Just, his parents need to be childless. And I have a couple of other kids who probably need to be a little younger. Plus, probably some neighbors need to be nosier.
But all that can be fixed.
The dog and I had a really nice walk this morning. The orange cat joined us coming and going, though he was smart enough to stay out of the road. Every time the cat walks with us, I think, isn’t it weird that cats, so vicious, so ruthless, were never used as animals of war? And then the cat, for no reason, decides to walk between my legs and almost trips me and I see why they were excluded from the armed forces.
I feel like this is the kind of afghan you would find while exploring in a remote jungle and stumbling across an ancient terraced pyramid. You drink something bitter. You throw up. You start to trip.. You wrap yourself in this afghan, but it’s not clear to you if the afghan is part of the vision or if it is the only real thing left in the Universe. A jaguar is also tripping. His vision is of a never-ending Grateful Dead concert where you meet William Shakespeare and he offers to tell you the secrets of life. You agree and he leans in and whispers something that, when you wake, has slipped out of your head. You still have the afghan.
The cats are coming in the house in shifts, I guess so that they’re able to rest while the black dog gets hissed at non-stop. Sonnyboy has been eating the black dog’s food like he’s some kid of metaphor for Western Imperialism, but this morning, the black dog, who doesn’t normally eat breakfast, ate Sonnyboy’s breakfast.
The Return to Hill House afghan lived through the wash! It’s sitting in the dryer as we speak, and I’ll have to go take it out here in a second and declare the afghan either a success or a failure.
I finished a chapter in Ashland that makes me wonder if my book is about to include ghost fucking and, indeed, if ghost fucking would be considered a type of haunting or, instead, a very specific type of possession.
Whoa, I just did a test square to see how it was going to work. I love it.