I knew before I started it that the Kitri Shawl was going to be a monster. One look at its shape, at its flat dimensions, at the density of its lace pattern, and that much is obvious. But over the past few weeks I’d found myself getting a little nervous about just how much of a monster it was likely to be.

For one thing, I already knew that I had underestimated the yardage it was going to require - funny how a mere half-yard per pattern rep can skew your calculations, when you’re planning several hundred pattern reps…. This thing is going to use a LOT of laceweight, more than mumbledy-hundred yards of the red alone, and I haven’t even estimated the black yet. Well, OK, I can deal with that, I think; after all, what with all the draping and ornamentation, with the dramatic color scheme and the beaded edgings and so on, this isn’t exactly intended to be an inconsequential piece.

But then, looking at Its Blobness metastasizing on the needles… well, some of you may recall my qualms about size mattering in the early days of Swan Lake - qualms which in that instance turned out to be justified. I’m working this on a 24″ needle (shut UP! I don’t want to hear about it! it had Utility of Location!), and because of that, that and the fact that it is the proverbial lace-on-the-needles in any case, it’s pretty hard to tell just how long and how wide it’s going to be. But there were inklings enough to make me nervous. I couldn’t help thinking - what if I really used the humongous wad of laceweight that I’m now forecasting, and what if I did all the rows and columns of fansfansfansfansfansfansfansfansfansfans I had spec’d, and then… what if it turned out that the fansfansfansfansfansfansfansfansfansfans were somehow wider and shallower than they’d blocked out to be in the swatch, and what if I ended up with a piece TWO MILES WIDE AND STILL NOT LONG ENOUGH?

I know the numbers don’t exactly lie. But what if they were… mistaken? (See above re “a mere half-yard” - ’nuff said?)

What if I was being lined up for my first really drastic encounter with the deceptive properties of swatches and gauge? I’ve been fortunate in that respect so far, but I’d been reading the Yarn Harlot on that subject and I was feeling spooked. When I started having nightmares about either [A] frogging the whole thing and starting again or [B] figuring out a way to… cut… a couple of fans off the sides of the finished piece all the way along - well, then I knew it was time for a serious reality check.

I measured out a pessimistically long hank of the heavy nylon cord that I’d been using for the holes in felted lace, put it on a big tapestry needle, and threaded all five-hundred-umpteenty stitches of Red Blobness onto the Stitch Holder That Ate Long Island. Stretched it out to its full extent and laid it out flat.

Initial impressions were not reassuring. After seven full pattern reps, The Red Blob in its natural state

is about 7″ long, and a full bed-length wide.

(Yes, I know how many inches that standard bed-length comes out to. If you don’t, you can look it up. No, I’m not going to type the number. Haven’t you ever heard of denial?)

I could bind it off right now and wear it sideways as a long scarf.

Though I have to admit…

…that in its unblocked state it isn’t exactly so pretty and exciting that I’d leap at the opportunity.

Why yes, that is cat hair all over the black quilt. Clean it off before doing this? Why would I bother? Cat hair is a Fact of Life (did you think Crazy Aunt Purl had a monopoly?). On every piece I make it’s an occupational hazard throughout every part of the process.

How it gets there I don’t know. Ptolemy is not at all interested in any of this stuff.

He is SO not interested.

Not in the lace, anyway.

At least, not when I’m looking.

My mission: to dry-block HONESTLY, unflinchingly, without yielding an iota to the forces of wishful thinking; to learn the true scope and dimensions of The Red Peril.

It’s a rough pinning, of course, not bothering with all the little points, let alone my cool new interlocking floor tiles - all that can wait until it’s time to do the real thing. For this purpose, a close and reasonable approximation is perfectly good enough. Two pins for the top of each fan in the upper edge; one at the base of the corresponding fan in the lower edge; one for the bottom point between fans.

(Note to future north-bedroom guests: not to worry, I counted the pins and they’re all back where they belong now. All of them.)

Result:

Whew.

At least it’s shorter than a bed now.

And it doesn’t look quite so much like a long scraggly scarf any more. In fact, at 12″ long and…

… about 64″ wide, it’s almost exactly the shape it ought to be at this stage. Length is right on the money; width is only about 2″ over what I planned. I can certainly live with that.

And even just rough-pinned like this, the lace is showing signs of opening up pretty nicely.

BTW, that little bit of greenish ribbon? That’s the spot where I did the epic repair. I thought it might be interesting to keep tabs on it, so I marked it for future reference. Still needs a little delicate adjusting, but it’s going to be OK, I think.

So now at least I’ll be able to sleep nights.

Still and all, there’s no way around it; the thing IS going to be a yarn hog.

Just couldn’t care less….

P.S. Getting Blob-Zilla back on the needles was a major pain. It was bad enough with the nylon cord - I can hardly stand to think what it’d have been like if I’d followed Plan A and used the real lifeline, which is dark green carpet thread. Tried that for a few stitches, and… [shudder]. I still yield to no one in my appreciation for lifelines - but let me tell you, the best thing about a lifeline is never actually having to use it for its actual purpose.

This entry was posted on Tuesday, June 19th, 2007 at 3:06 pm and is filed under Lace, Kitri Shawl. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.