Stitch 'n Bitch: The Knitter's Handbook (31 page)

Unraveling a cast-on edge is not as easy as unraveling regular knitting. If you have used the slingshot or double cast-on method, you should find the end of your yarn, pick it free from where you worked it away, then follow its path to undo one stitch at a time. As you undo stitches, put the freed-up live loops on a needle (preferably a circular one that can hang safely from your work as you go along). Again, use a needle a couple of sizes smaller than the one you used to knit the piece. Once you’ve picked up your stitches, count them to make sure they’re all there (minus one, of course). Then, chop the unraveled yarn off, leaving a 6-inch tail, and just start knitting in the opposite direction with new yarn until the piece is as long as you need it to be.

This method can also be used to change the bottom of a sweater even if it’s not too short—for instance, if you decide that your ribbed bottom is too tight or unflattering and you’d prefer a loose, rolled edge at the bottom. Just unravel all the ribbing and reknit the bottom of the sweater in stockinette stitch until it’s back to the length you want—this time with a rolly edge.

Despite all the fixing tricks, sometimes you just have to throw in the proverbial towel. Entire sleeves, fronts, or backs may need to be taken out. It’s a very painful moment when you realize you just can’t salvage a knitted piece any other way. But remember that it’s better to unravel the piece and redo it correctly than to wear it unhappily for years, always noticing where the problem is. Or, worse yet, never wear it at all.

In knitter’s parlance, unraveling a large part of knitting is called frogging. Get it? A frog goes “ribbit, ribbit,” and you’re going to “rip it, rip it.” Hey, I couldn’t make these things up.

Even cornier is when people speak of putting a project in the “frog pond,” which means it’s been set aside to be completely unraveled, and the yarn will be recycled for a different project. When that royal blue sweater that looked so good on the model in the magazine makes you look like Cookie Monster, or the sparkly scarf is so itchy around your neck it’s become a torture device, it’s time to take a trip to the frog pond.

Just like hair that’s been sitting in braids for a while, unraveled yarn will have lots of little kinks in it, and it will need to be straightened before you can reuse it. To do that, wind the unraveled yarn into hanks—you can do this around the back of a chair or around your feet held about a foot apart. Secure the hanks with pieces of yarn in three or more places. Then immerse them in warm water with a bit of soap, swish them around, rinse them out, and hang them up to dry. Loop them over the hook of a hanger or over a shower head and put a weight at the bottom of the hank (a can of food works well for this) to help pull out those kinks.

When the yarn is good and dry, you can wind it back into balls until you’re ready to use it again. That sparkly yarn might work well as a pillow, or the blue yarn could be knit on larger needles to make a loose, flattering tunic.

It’s a freezing cold Tuesday night in January, and the gals at my office can’t wait to head home, but I’m happy to face the biting winds and make my way to the Java ’n Jazz café. After all, tonight is Stitch ’n Bitch, and I’ve been looking forward to it all week.

By the time I get there, the ladies have already staked their claim to the rocking chair and the coveted couch at the back of the café. The low coffee table in front of them is covered with mugs of cappuccino and tea, and the women themselves sit thigh-to-thigh on the couches in a tight circle, their heads bent over their latest knitting projects, bags of yarn and needles scattered at their feet. With a bit of rearranging, I find a way to join the circle as well.

I settle in and greet the regulars: There’s Marney, a meeting planner who learned to knit as a way to soothe her nerves after having escaped from the seventy-ninth floor of the World Trade Center on that day in September, and who has since established herself as the group’s most prolific knitter (the girl whips through socks and sweaters faster than a speeding bullet). There’s Jessica, a university professor and one of the most experienced knitters in the group, who not only designs many of her projects, but also dyes and spins the wool for them. There’s Betsey, an advertising copywriter who’s been knitting bridesmaids’ tops ever since she got engaged a few months ago; Jackie, a graphic designer who started knitting in the ’80s (and has the embarrassing photos of her in big poofy sweaters and big poofy hair to prove it); Johanna, a book editor who is known for tackling fine, lacy projects; Susannah, a public radio producer and determined new knitter whom we watched knit—and then frog—her very first sweater; and Sonya, a Web programmer who once knit a pair of cat pants (they were a bigger hit with the group than with her cat). Meema, a documentary filmmaker and knitter who is our resident felting queen, is there as well; besides myself, she’s the only member who’s been with the group since its inception back in September of 1999. Finally, there’s Dennis, a premed student and the only regularly attending male member of the group. An ambitious newcomer to knitting, he’s already made himself a pair of intricate socks, which he is wearing—and showing off—tonight.

Then there are the many knitters whom I do not yet know by name: the ones who are attending for their first time, who are just learning to knit, or who drop in only once in a while. The gaggle of fresh faces always energizes the regulars as we all get down to the business at hand: working on our own projects while checking out each other’s progress and offering advice on dealing with knitting tragedies like too tight collars and crappy-looking buttonholes.

For the most part, more stitching than bitching takes place at these sessions, but talk has ranged from Martha Stewart’s status as a feminist icon to whether people who wear low-slung jeans should wear knit “belly warmers” and which of the Muppets we would choose to sleep with (I picked Animal). We bring show-and-tell items—projects that we’ve completed or our latest knitting book purchases—and we bring our problems. A discussion about a sweater that’s too big for a current boyfriend soon becomes a discussion about whether said boyfriend really deserves a hand-knit sweater. By the evening’s end, I’ve usually made good progress on whatever I’m working on, and I’ve shared some laughs with a bunch of smart, funny ladies (and gentlemen). I always leave looking forward to the next week’s meeting.

No matter how loosely it’s organized, a Stitch ’n Bitch is fun. For the obsessed knitter, there’s nothing as exciting as finding like-minded people who share your passion and with whom you can discuss the craft. (I
can just imagine how my friends’ eyes would glaze over if I ever started raving about a great new yarn store or some knitting technique I’d just learned.) But even new knitters who aren’t yet consumed by the craft can enjoy an evening spent stitching with others—aside from the opportunity to learn things from the old hands, be inspired by them, and get advice. Best of all is the fact that a Stitch ’n Bitch group makes knitting, which can be a very solitary activity, a communal one.

I started the New York City Stitch ’n Bitch for exactly that reason: I had become so obsessed with knitting that I wanted to do little else, and I soon found myself feeling rather isolated. Why not start a group, I thought, where I could spend time in the company of others while engaging in my favorite pastime? A weekly knitting session would also be a great way to involve the many girls I knew who’d expressed an interest in knitting. I could just tell them to show up, and I—or one of the other knitters—could give them a quick lesson.

I chose a local café as the location for our group, set up an e-mail list, and invited friends to join and to spread the word. I also mentioned the group’s e-mail address in an issue of
BUST
magazine. Soon we had a group of about twenty women meeting every Wednesday night. I dubbed the group “Stitch ’n Bitch,” but the name dates back to at least the 1950s, when housewives held these types of get-togethers in an effort to mix the business of chores with the pleasure of each other’s company.

Shortly after she heard about our NYC group, knitter Brenda Janish began a Stitch ’n Bitch in her native Chicago, created a Web site for it, and even developed a cartoon mascot. “Purl” is a combat-booted knitter who proudly brandishes her knitting needles, representin’ for the new generation of knitters and gracing canvas knitting totes. Today the Chicago group is one of the largest Stitch ’n Bitches going, and their e-mail list boasts close to five hundred members. Brenda’s bunch, in turn, inspired other knitters to begin Stitch ’n Bitches in such places as Los Angeles; Portland, Oregon; Washington, D.C.; and Toronto, as well as Melbourne, Australia; Aberdeen, Scotland; and even Zurich, Switzerland, all of which can be contacted via Brenda’s Web site,
www.stitchnbitch.org
, which lists information for twenty-eight different groups.

Maybe you’d really like to start a Stitch ’n Bitch, but it’s just not practical: You live in the Arctic Circle, you are the only knitter in a hundred-mile radius, or you’re a hermit who doesn’t like people enough to get together with them once a week. With a computer and an Internet connection you can still be a part of the knitting community without ever having to leave your house.

One of the oldest knitting communities on the Internet, the KnitList is a worldwide knitting e-mail list, and boy, do these knitters have a lot to say. Signing up to be part of the list means getting an inbox full of knitting-related posts on a daily basis—some of which will be helpful, and some of which will be frustrating. Limit your messages to technical types of questions, however, and you’ll be greeted with a wealth of useful information. I’d advise you to receive the posts in “digest” form—meaning you’ll be e-mailed one file a day of all that day’s posts—because the KnitList can easily overwhelm your inbox.

Starting a Stitch ’n Bitch is easy—after all, it’s just a bunch of folks getting together to knit, nothing more, nothing less. It’s pretty much guaranteed that if you plan it (and get the word out in the right places), they will come. Here are some ideas to get your knitting party started:

LOCATION, LOCATION, LOCATION
:
Choose a meeting spot where it will be easy to find seats for a varying number of people—the most popular café in town is probably not the best choice. A café off the beaten track, or one that isn’t known for serving the best coffee in town, is a better idea. Next, you want it to be someplace where it’s okay to nurse a cup of tea or coffee all night long. Case the place to make sure that they have empty tables on the night you plan to hold your group. (That way, you can be certain that your group won’t be putting a large dent in the waiters’ wallets.) You want a place that is relatively well lit. Finally, if you live in a big city, it should be somewhere central, close to public transportation (and to available parking).

I don’t recommend holding meetings at anyone’s home, because it makes it difficult to establish a regular night and time for your Stitch ’n Bitch. If your host has a conflicting engagement, or isn’t feeling well, that’s the end of your meeting that week. Plus, newcomers might not feel as comfortable dropping in to a stranger’s house as they would to a random café.