Ickle Baby Cthulhu won’t wear gloves. Whereas he has the wit to come in from the cold at home, travelling in the cold weather* can be a problem, notably the childminder run. As I don’t drive (yet), this involves a trip across a straight-from-the-Urals windswept quarter-mile twice a day. It doesn’t take long, 10mins or so at speed, but sometimes his normally toasty little hands freeze. Need I mention that he won’t tolerate a Cozy-Toez(TM) or similar? Only his ‘Bilankent’ will do, a manky old third-hand ripped-up crib duvet with the stuffing hanging out to which he’s taken a fancy simply because his little girlfriend at the childminder’s has a blankie too (for the same reason, he also has to travel with Mooly Cow or Sleepy Hippo, and all attempts to separate him from his dummy are doomed. Peer pressure is a terrible thing. They even swap dummies from sheer lurve. And pink dummies can cause all sorts of misunderstandings).
I’ve bought numerous mittens, even attached them with string through his coats, to no avail. He cunningly manages to lose at least one in the 10-min journey. Now with the tantrums, getting them on him involves holding him down as he’s howling No! No! No! and the ringlets slap into my face and the beefy little fists flail and the boots land in painfully intimate areas – let’s just say I’m not winning this particular battle.
Daddy, on the other hand (no pun intended. Well, maybe), has his Purple Pirate gloves from a few posts back, and Daddy Can Do No Wrong. Not like boring old Mommy and her stupid mitts! He will happily wear one of Daddy’s gloves for some considerable time, admiring the ‘Piwate’ and shouting “Yarrrh!” intermittently. So cunning old boring Mommy had an idea. A psychology PhD has some uses after all!
So Christmas Day evening, I cast on a pair of purple mitts for him, and finished them last night – two days! Based on a vintage pattern, with some mods. Okay, a lot. The cuff is shorter, the thumb is longer, and the top isn’t decreased to a rounded cap. Instead, it is a ‘finger muff’, a portion of loose ribbing made with the larger size dpns used for the stocking stitch. This muff can be folded back for a fingerless mitt, or rolled up for warmth. The link to the free pattern with these modifications is available on the right, under Knitzsche’s Patterns – please note the copyright notice is a bit stricter than the one for the Hair Scrunchies.
They’re too small for the skull and crossbones motif on Daddy’s gloves and I was in too much of a rush to modify. I had hoped instead to put in an intarsia Makka Pakka (face only!), but wouldn’t you know it, I’m permanently low on boring browns in my stash. So I decided to Swiss darn the image using some chenille I have in cream, nutmeg, and black – not the taupe/beige/snoooooore needed, but close enough for a 2-year-old. Sadly I am piss-poor at eye-needlework. The darning did not work, possibly because the chenille was just too different to the DK – flat, ribbony and downright uncooperative – but more likely due to my sewing crapulescence.
So instead I was forced to ~shudder~ For-Real embroider the image on, backstitching 3 times across each stitch in the pattern. I would like to record that each stitch was lovingly crafted with a mother’s blessings for her beloved only child, but it would be an infamous lie. Rather, each was filled with blood and cusswords the like of which would shame a sailor as I yelped and stabbed my way through the 47 piddling knit stitches of the design. The imprecations and involuntary donations continued through the simple 2-st smile and french-knot eyes. HOW do you stab yourself with a tapestry needle, I ask you? Once on the going in, once on the way out is how. Grrraaah!
So Makka Pakka only appears on one mitt. Tiny husband did me the good service of removing the tapestry needle from my self-inflicted stigmata and taking me to bed before I could put out an eye or circumcise something.
His little nibs was quite pleased. He even wore them for a long period, exclaiming over Makka Makka (as he calls it), and enquiring in hushed and worried tones as to Makka Makka’s absence on the second glove… Ooops. I told him that that Makka Pakka had gone to bed (as it does! end of every episode) and that seemed to satisfy him.
While doing this I was reminded of how much I love working with dpns. Straight needles don’t inspire this love. I need 30cm+ needles for most projects, but my forearms are so short I get little bruises on my biceps where the ends dig in. I’ve never found a comfortable, natural way of knitting that avoids this. Dpns are different. they’re short, barely longer than my big man-hands. And I simply adore the juggling of the needles and the speed I can build up, way faster than straights. I feel the same about cable needles. I love ’em. I LOOOOOVE them. I have all sorts, shapes, colours, compositions, but sometimes I use toothpicks, broken dpns, matches, just to live dangerously. Sometimes I store the cable needle in a piercing. Sometimes I light the match. I know two (or 3-ish) ways to do cables without cable needles, all of which feel uncomfortable and inappropriate, and deprive me of the joy of cable-needle juggling. Hurrah for cable needles!
That is all.
* FYI, while we don’t get the spectacular snowfalls of some parts of the world, winter night temperatures of -10degC (14degF) to -20degC (-4degF) are getting to be normal here in Brum. People die walking home from work because public transport shuts down.
** I never bother about rows per inch, preferring instead to measure and/or fit.