R2D2 toque

On the 9th day of Christmas (i.e., 4 days before), I finished knitting another Star Wars project:


An R2D2 toque for Jeff, the same recipient of the Boba Fett balaclava. The pattern was inspired by another R2D2 hat I found online, but because I wanted more of a toque than a beanie, because my gauge was quite different, and because I'm anal-retentive and wanted a super-accurate pattern, I made my own chart, which I will post once I have a moment to figure out how to make an electronic copy.

For the knitters: I knit most of the hat on straight needles so that I could use the intarsia colour knitting method, though there was some stranded/Fair Isle knitting in an attempt to reduce the number of ends that would need weaving in. I even decreased on the straight needles until I got to the blue circle at the very top, whereupon I switched to dpns and sewed up the seam with a mattress stitch. As it turned out, my attempts to keep the ends to a minimum were unsuccessful.

Witness the hat's insides:


But once everything was woven in and cut off, the end result was, if I may say, brilliant:



Edited Jan. 22 to add: Post with pattern and chart can be found here.

Slow news day, much?

One of these stories is factual and one is not (though both are kind of truthy). Guess which?



And it's street protests over antagonistic board meetings... this time.

Tuque and OED

My knitting group is composed of mostly English PhDs, but even they thought it was funny that I recently looked up "tuque" in the Oxford English Dictionary (online). If I hadn't though, I would never have learned that, according to the OED, a tuque is a knit wool hat that is actually folded in on itself—that is, it is a long tube, tapered at both ends, and one end goes into the other, making it hat-shaped. This construction seems to be the defining characteristic of a tuque, setting it apart from watchcaps, fisherman's hats, and wool hats in general.

And now I want to knit one.

What, no knitting geeks?

An astounding poster featuring 56 types of geeks is for sale here, with a full image here.

It's not that I know people who could be one of these geeks, it's that I know several people who are more than one of these geeks that alternately thrills and depresses me.

Glass shopping carts

Seriously? Holiday gift guides still divide merchandise into his and hers?

According to Chapters, women are interested in cooking, shopping, bland, inoffensive music by inoffensively bland young men (hello, Josh Groban!), Celine Dion, and soapy TV shows. Men, on the other hand are interested in politics, history, bland music by the shell of a formerly credible artist (hello, Eric Clapton!), Springsteen, and tragic-epic TV shows.

Oh, and Borat. Borat next to Brian Mulroney. That's almost—almost—enough to make the old-school sexism excusable.

Facebook now just Little Brother

Facebook (must I hyperlink the word?) has moderated its latest intrusion of users' privacy, Facebook Beacon, a program that sent notices to all of a Facebook user's friends when they bought something on one of 44 participating websites. These notices show up on newsfeeds accompanied by a complementary banner ad on the left.

Facebook Beacon prompted an online petition against its practices that led to today's announcement. The Becaon feature will remain, but case-by-case opt-outs will now be available and more noticeable so that not everyone will know that you bought a Fight Club movie poster on allposters.com.

Facebook is trying to walk a fine line between respecting people's privacy and making a profit so that it can stay in business. While I believe that Facebook (the application) is not "private" in any sense of the word and that users lack a private subjectivity that they possess in real life, I also believe that my personal information shouldn't be used by any kind of tracking software for such blatant marketing purposes. Ideally, what I buy is no one's business but my own.

My post was inspired by a rather dense digital media marketer quoted in the New York Times story:

“Isn’t this community getting a little hypocritical?” said Chad Stoller, director of emerging platforms at Organic, a digital advertising agency. “Now, all of a sudden, they don’t want to share something?”

The quotation, along with the existence of Beacon itself, indicates how far marketers have to go before truly understanding the mindset of the Facebook user. Yes, Mr. Stoller, all of a sudden, we don't want to share something. Perhaps you have noticed that everything we share on Facebook we volunteer. Perhaps you've noticed that users can determine which kinds of actions are published to their public newsfeed. Perhaps you've noticed that people in general don't take lightly to having their own information used without their knowledge or information. The issue, sir, is not about not wanting to share, but not even knowing that you're sharing and not having the chance to say, "no, thanks, I'd rather not."

I believe that Facebook execs and advertisers have gone about tracking user purchases the wrong way. Facebook is unusual because its very existence depends on the public nature of its information gathering. We know that Facebook tracks us because we see it in our newsfeeds. But everytime the cashier swipes my Safeway, my Indigo card, my Shoppers card, I know that the information is flying through the ether into a database in who-knows-where as well. That doesn't seem to bother me as much because, oddly, I have no idea what the information is being used for. In other words, the information gathering seems—and only seems, mind you—more benign because I don't see the end results.

Facebook can't lull its users into the same sense of false security. But what it could do is capitalize on its users' odd penchant for sharing every bloody part of their lives online— emphasis on the "sharing". If Facebook could figure out how to make users want to talk about their latest purchases (sale notices? promotions? coupons?) there would be less backlash. I do tell my friends if my favourite store is having a good sale or if I bought something particularly nice for myself recently. I do it because I'm an excitable (self-aware but still excitable) consumer. Capture that excitement, Mr. Zuckerberg, and you might be in business.

Literary realism vs. internal logic

I've been teaching Eliza Haywood's Fantomina, Or, Love in a Maze recently and some students can't get past the fact that the story's eponymous heroine manages, four different times, to seduce a man while she is in four different disguises. Yes, she is an excellent actress and yes he's probably a little dense. I would also argue that Fantomina picks her "personas" carefully, selecting roles that most eighteenth-century men would already associate with female sexuality (prostitute, maid, widow).

But my students' inability to let this point go speaks to a larger issue about any kind of narrative art form—the question of whether or not it's "realistic" and the odd moments in a text/movie/story that disrupt the sometimes-necessary suspension of disbelief involved in consuming narrative. In other words, it's not the larger conceits that we have issues with, but the smaller inconsistencies. For example, when watching the time-travelling movie Run Lola Run, in which the same story is played out three different times with the heroine learning from the previous rendition, my friend Natalie was bothered by how the protagonist and her boyfriend seemed to be talking to each other while separated by a sliding glass door. Though she wondered how they could have heard each other, she didn't question the movie's overall concept that Lola somehow managed to travel back in time twice (do-over!) in an attempt to save said boyfriend.

I have realized, however, that the issue I'm describing is not a question of realism but rather of logic. We expect a work of art to have its own internal logic and at least be consistent in its own world: If all the animals talk, that's fine; if only one animal talks, it's weird. And as readers we somehow still expect an internal logic, things to "make sense" in the world of the movie. The need for unity is strong indeed.

Words added

Words added to my Word spellcheck dictionary tonight: Bakhtin, Bakhtin's, carnivalesque, parodic.

Why yes, I am teaching the Masquerade in Eigtheenth-century England tomorrow. Why do you ask?

Laughing baby

Of all the Internet clips of impossibly cute, laughing babies, this one is my favourite. Why? The physical comedy.

A song named Derrida

Tonight I learned, from that great font of knowledge that is Wikipedia, that there exists a song called "Jacques Derrida". It's by the band Scritti Politti, which paid cheeky musical tribute to the (then not-) late, great deconstructionist on its 1982 debut album.

The song is a rather dated, sped up bassanova (a mediocre sound file is available at the first bullet point here), but some of the lyrics make me laugh, most notably

He held it like a cigarette
Behind a squandee's back
He held it so he hid its length
And so he hid its lack

Also, singer/songwriter Green Gartside pronounces it "Jacques DerEEda".

Yes yes. I'm too easily amused.

P.S. The most recent Scritti Politti CD, White Bread, Black Beer, is worth a spin.

Ottawa

At the end of the summer, at the Fringe Fest, I won a free flight with Westjet. Due to restrictions and fine print and my tight schedule, the only time I could really take advantage was over the short November Reading break. And so, I went to Ottawa to visit Rutha and some relatives.


After a very early flight, I arrived in our fair capital hungry and tired. After a nap, tea and a snack, Rutha and I went to a lovely and very decadent Sicilian-themed dinner.

If I look a little flushed in the photo, well, that glass of wine I'm holding didn't drink itself. Oh, and this was dessert:


A little cannoli on the left and a cassata (almond pastry filled with riccota and chocolate) on the right. Soooo much sugar.... Until dessert, everyone had been getting full and mellow. But afterwards there was silliness and Sicilians spontaneously singing.

On a more somber note, the next day (Nov. 11) we went to the Remembrance Day ceremonies at the National War Memorial. The weather was beautiful and as a result the crowd was huge. If you look closely at this photo you can kind of see what's going on at the memorial. Kind of.

It was a little odd to finally "see" an event in person that I had watched many times on television, most notably because I couldn't see anything except a giant TV screen that had been set up. So despite the fact that I was "there", I still watched most of it on TV (at an angle) without clearly hearing the sounds of the ceremony. As a result, the effect of the somber occasion was bit muted.

Most of the time in Ottawa was spent just hanging out (shopping, lots of coffee) rather than seeing things, since I've been to Ottawa several times before. So we walked around the Glebe area, went shopping in the market, and I walked along the canal:


I then spent a couple of days with family, whose lovely company was enhanced with what seemed to be an endless supply of chocolate and a seriously cute three-and-a-half-year-old who never stops talking. Oh, to be young and verbal.

Nice knitting, but...

I'm on a bit of a yarn/knitting kick right now, browsing through pattern sites, looking for neat projects. Came across a pattern for a really cool-looking 5-in-1 chameleon hat that quintuples (?) as a tuque, ear warmer, balaclava, jesterish-looking hat, and neck warmer. On closer inspection (flickr photos), however, I came to a key realization.

The darn thing is LACE. The neat resemblances to chainmail notwithstanding, there's no way it will keep you warm.

Too bad. It's an awesome design.

Broken Bodum, take 2

For the second time in six months, I have broken a bodum. The first time was entirely my fault—I accidentally knocked it over and it shattered into a million little pieces on my kitchen floor. Clean up was a bitch and I mourned my Bodum-brand French press for the duration of an afternoon.

This time, all I did was press the plunger down. And this happened:


Note, though, that the piece of glass on the counter does not match the gap in the bodum.


Which means that the other piece is in my coffee. Which means that I cannot even drink my coffee for fear of little glass pieces. Which also means that I won't be buying a cheap-ass IKEA bodum again.

And yes, those are homemade chocolate chip cookies in the photo's background. You know what goes great with chocolate chip cookies?

Coffee. That's what.

Oatmeal at 10:45

Guess which of the following status updates was not written by a grad student?

Some wasabi with your Hallowe'en candy?

For Hallowe'en this year, I dressed up for the first time since I was young. My sister gave me the costume idea and I had much help from a friend with a sewing machine.

Starting with one T-shirt (size XL, ladies), bought cheap from the Army and Navy. Cut off the sleeves and sew it into a pillowcase.


Stuff pillowcase and paint on white lines:


Attach with elastic straps and wrap with a dark green "belt" while wearing a white sweater:


Sushi! (specifically, salmon nigiri)


The costume wasn't as obvious as I thought it would be. Though a handful of people at the party immediately knew what I was, other guesses ranged from pincushion to ladybug. I had to provide clues such as "smaller" and "edible".

Next year: wasabi purse and giant chopsticks. More Hallowe'en party pics here.

Hat #1 (sort of)

This is not the first hat that I've knit. Before knitting this hat, I had even graduated to balaclavas (which require, let me tell you, way more yarn).

But after a summer full of gift knitting, I was determined to knit a hat for myself.

Here it is:


3 AM Cable Hat knitted with one 50g skein of Rowan Classic Yarns Soft Tweed, colour Thistle, on 7.0mm needles (circulars and dpns).

The brim is a little short, yes. I finished the hat (knit bottom to top) and had a little ball left over. Decided that the best thing to do was to pick up stitches at the bottom and knit in the 2x2 rib until the yarn was all used up. Turns out the line where I picked up stitches works as a natural fold. I like the pattern a lot, but wish there was a way to knit the hat top down so that I could be more efficient about yarn usage and not worry about how long to make the brim. I am tempted, however, to buy more yarn (I've been thinking a lot about Bunny Paint colorway 071 that I've seen at a couple of stores) and knit another hat using this pattern. We'll see.

And if I could figure out how to line this hat, I could even wear it in freezingest Edmonton winter. Suggestions?

Don't do it, Mr. Gore

Now that Al Gore has won the Nobel Peace Prize, the question everyone seems to be asking is, "Will he or won't he?" Run for President of the United States, that is.

For my money, the better question is "should he or shouldn't he?" And the answer is a definitive "no".

There are all sorts of reasons to do so, including the power, retribution for 2000 and... okay, mostly the power. But power at what cost?

1. Public image: Presidential campaigns can get notoriously unethical (Swift Boat, anyone?). Does Gore really want his Nobel sheen (TM me) to be sullied by the dirt that will inevitably be thrown his way? What if he starts levelling accusations at other candidates? Gore has effectively positioned himself as a man outside politics, and global warming as a non-partisan issue that the entire world should be concerned about. Why re-enter a divided public forum with a grade-school level of discourse?

2. Time: Campaigning for president (and then actually being president, should he win) would take potentially five years away from Gore's environmental focus. He has other (non-endangered) fish to fry, so to speak.

3. Cool Al: Like any presidential candidate would ever agree to go on live TV and do this:

I know it's German yarn, but still...

Another one for the "you knit what?!" pile.


And hey, the pattern is even on sale.

My First Turkey: A Photo Essay

Butterball turkey, in the packaging.


Old Fashioned bread stuffing.


The bird. Stuffed and in the pan.


Cooking.


Finished. Golden brown. 5.2 kg, 4 hours at 350 degrees F.


The carcass.


Cranberry sauce, clearly from a can.


Dinner. Sides provided by lovely guests. I forgot to take a photo of the desserts (there were three!)


Digging in. With gratitude.


Happy Thanksgiving!

Dove: Campaign for Real Profit?

A new Dove ad is making the viral rounds, the latest in its "Campaign for Real Beauty" that has included billboard ads featuring real, unPhotoshopped women as models and the award winning Dove: Evolution ad that shows an image re-touched beyond recognition in accelerated time. The latest salvo what Slate.com has called "cheap feminism" is the following:

Talk about it at Videocracy


I'll leave the Onion comments section to snark on the imprecise title ("Dove Onslaught"? Really?). Seth Stevenson at Slate.com has already ably deconstructed Dove's "on the side of real women" stance here and here, helpfully pointing out that the Unilever family of products ironically Dove alongside Slimfast and (harbinger of gender enlightenment in advertising) AXE.

My mixed feelings about the entire campaign are as follows:

1. Yes, there is a problem with the portrayal of female beauty in the media. But when the company behind a series of effective, award-winning ads drawing attention to that problem is out to sell you something, then their altruism is clearly undermined. Dove/Unilever has managed to simultaneously exploit women's insecurities about their bodies (that's firming cream being sold in the "Real Women Have Curves" ads) and tap into a populist, uncritical "you go, girl!" ethos that mistakes attitude for feminism. Should we really be falling all over ourselves congratulating a multinational corporation for suddenly seeing the harm that the advertising they commission is doing to society?

2. The campaign for real beauty still defines "beauty" as physical. Until Dove develops and markets a brain tonic, I suppose it will remain that way.

3. The in-house charity reeks of the kind of corporate exploitation I cannot stand. Charity is only really charity if you get nothing in return; mounds of good publicity is hardly nothing. One cyncially hopes that the self-esteem material will not have the "Dove" logo splashed on every page in an effort to inculcate brand loyalty. Too cynical? Perhaps. (Turns out I'm half correct: a PDF of the workbook for girls mentions Dove copiously on pg. 2, then again on the last two pages as sponsors. The sample School Program guide places a logo for the "Real Beauty School Program" at the top right corner of every odd-numbered page. It does make one wonder whether a school adminstrator or teacher would actually use non-sanctioned materials in class. Could they?)

And regarding the rather clichéd Onslaught ad specifically:

4. The blatant "oh, will someone think of the children!" fear-mongering that appeals to one base instinct (protect the young!) while reviling another (Me want pretty!)

5. While girls might develop self-esteem and body image issues from the bombardment of unrealistic images of the female body in the media, what about the little boys? What kind of unrealistic view of the opposite sex will they develop as they grow up? And what about men? If the Dove campaign wasn't so focused on selling its products to its target demographic (women), it could make a bold statement by pointing out that unrealistic beauty standards affect the other 50% of the population as well. But no. It's not about Y-chromosomes or even X-chromosomes. It's all about the almighty $.

Advantages to living in Alberta

The chance to take photos like this one:


More photos here.

Anna's Champagne Birthday

Anna's champagne birthday (the birthday where your age matches your birthdate) was yesterday and we spent it taking our cousin and his wife, who are currently visiting from China, on a whirlwind tour of the Rockies, which included going to B.C. and seeing Emerald Lake and the Natural Bridge, a quick stop at Lake Louise and Moraine Lake and then a drive through Banff to the gondolas where there was no line up (no one!) to go up Sulphur Mountain. And then home by 6:30 for dinner, after which I was put on the Greyhound back to Edmonton. Whew!

In between all that, we managed to squeeze in non-Champagne-region sparkling white wine (my instructions were to get "one step up from Baby Duck"):


I think she liked it.

Big book

This came in the mail today:

It's a 1000-page reference book that I ordered from an American used book seller over abebooks.com last Thursday, back when the US/Canadian exchange rate was near but not quite at parity.

It is a former public library book that is in pristine condition. Seriously. The binding is a little wonky, but there is not one mark in it. (Thank you, Wolfeboro Public Library!)

I didn't expect it to arrive so quickly, so when I saw it in front of my door (the mailman had kindly left it there, underneath my newspaper), yes, I squealed.

Because not only is it an excellent reference book edited by one of the giants in the field (Richetti), but it cost me only $22 USD. That includes shipping.

So on the one hand, it's sad that this lovely though perhaps too-academic reference book was underused in a public library. On the other hand, it's great that it remained in excellent condition until I was able to give it the appreciative home it deserves. Used books, yay!

Recommend this, Amazon!

Tonight, in a weird pique, I got pissed off at Amazon's stupid "Recommended for You" feature and tried to circumvent it not by signing off my account like any sane person, but by going through the list of "Items You Own" and deleting all of them. The same list showed me items I had bought from Amazon, which could not be deleted but whose "Use to make recommendations" setting could be deselected.

My act of defiance (ha!) did not stem from any concerns about privacy or the company's attempt to make me buy more things using my personal purchasing patterns. No. For while it was kind of interesting to see how Amazon reconciled my Austen purchases with my purchases of Simpsons DVDs and a Christmas-related purchase of the children's classic The Hungry Caterpillar, I usually ended up getting insulted by the recommendations. Just because I like The Simpsons doesn't mean that I like The Family Guy, okay? In fact, I hate The Family Guy. And just because I bought some Austen-related books, it doesn't mean that I'm interested in a poorly written sequel to one of her clearly superior novels. And being inundated by recommendations for a plethora of children's books based on one (one!) purchase seems a little excessive as well. As it is, Amazon didn't really seem to know what to do with my ownership of Habermas' The Structural Transformation of the Public Sphere or purchase of Foucault's The Order of Things—except to recommend The Birth of the Clinic.

But I shouldn't be too angry with Amazon, really. It's not like they've taken one look at my purchasing history, categorized me as a "hipster intellectual" and offered me a reading list based on said categorization. Or asked me to take a quiz to determine which reading list my lifestyle would be the best match for.

(Found while searching for a recently married friend's wedding registry.)

Most delicious sign of global warming?

Blueberries.

To be more specific, blueberries in September. Until this year, I have never been able to buy blueberries at my local Safeway after August. Imagine my surprise when today, at almost the halfway mark of the month, they were still on sale. They are smaller, but also sweeter.

If this is the end of the world, I will take it in pancake form.

Cavities and stomache aches

This post is co-sponsored by Karine, who shared most of these links with me.

Only in America would they think to repurpose a dessert food as another dessert. I present to you: Krispy Kreme bread pudding.


Don't be deceived by the yummy-looking food porn photo. This dessert is made from twenty four Krispy Kreme doughnuts and is drizzled with a sauce that calls for an entire pound of confectioners sugar. Moreover, though bread pudding traditionally includes fruit, this recipe ups the preservative quotient by using fruit cocktail—syrup included. Ugh. Someone's asking for a collective coronary aneurysm.

And if that doesn't make you sick thinking about it, then try pickles soaked in Kool-Aid, of which "children are the primary consumers".


I do like the Kool-Aid spokesperson's reaction, though:

Upon learning of the pickles, Bridget MacConnell, a senior manager of corporate affairs at Kraft, recovered, and then pronounced, “We endorse our consumers’ finding innovative ways to use our products.”

In related beverages-of-questionable-nutritional-value news, I've finally learned how one can deep fry Coke. Where, though, would one find Coke syrup? I doubt my local Safeway carries it. Alas, I guess my first taste of fried Coke batter will have to wait.

And finally, a Nigella Lawson repurposed recipe that would offend Jews and Mormons: Ham cooked in Coke.

I think I'm going to eat some fruit, now. And not from a can, either.

The first birth metaphor of the process

According to my friend Karine, female grad students have baby dreams whenever they experience dissertation anxiety. I have already taken note of the phenomenon here and here. Karine has thought about posting a photo of her finished dissertation on her Facebook account as a counterpoint to all her friend's baby photos (I wonder what the grad student equivalent of cat/kitten photos would be?). And lest you think that the use of birth language is limited to neurotic female grad students, at my meeting with my supervisor about chapter one yesterday, in response to my description of the difficulty I'd experienced with the writing, she compared the first chapter to a "breech birth".

Which makes me wonder: what metaphor for the dissertation writing process do men use? The birth metaphor might seem a little clichéd but it has its uses. Being able to compare the writing process to something momentous and life-changing validates the dissertation, accords it the importance that it already has but that others might not understand. It speaks to the long gestation, the difficulty, the highs and lows of the process, and (presumably) the relief once it's over but also the fear of "now, what?" that follows. The more I think about it, the more I think the metaphor is appropriate.

And it's not that it's a new comparison. In her letters, Jane Austen herself twice compared her novels to children, noting of Sense and Sensibility that she could no more forget it "than a mother can forget her suckling child" and calling Pride and Prejudice her "own darling child". Interestingly, in both cases she was referring specifically to the finished, published novel. Clearly for Austen, the process ended not with the last sentence, but with the last binding.

Poor, inarticulate thing

I'm guessing that Miss Teen South Carolina is in hiding or doing damage control as her inarticulate, rambling answer during the Q&A portion of the Miss Teen USA pageant continues its viral rounds on the internet.



Honestly, though, it's starting to feel like the world's longest dumb blonde joke (and her accent doesn't help). Yes, it's a terrible answer that mangles rhetorical devices ("like such as") and references countries-in-crisis du jour. But not everyone is good on their feet. And how would you have answered the question under the same circumstances?

Leave the poor girl alone. It's not like she's the US President or something.

Leave your father out of this, Alberto

Beseiged by both Democrats and Republicans for months, U.S. Attorney General Alberto Gonzales resigned today, having endured controversies over illegal wiretapping and accusations of politically-motivated firing of other US attorneys.

In the news, the most quoted sentence of Gonzales's incredibly brief statement was one that alluded to his immigrant upbringing and his being living proof of the American dream:

Even my worst days as Attorney General have been better than my father's best days.

I guess how you take that statement depends on how you feel about Gonzales. I think that under his term, the reputation of the Department of Justice has taken a hit and that the civil liberties of Americans have been compromised. As such, and as an immigrant myself, I feel that the mention of his "father's best days" is disingenuous.

First of all, in terms of the basic necessities of life, of course Gonzales Jr. had it better than his father, what with the food, clothing, and shelter one can afford on a high-level government official's salary. To compare his own suffering to his father's undermines what his father might have gone through. Secondly, for Gonzales to invoke the so-called "American Dream" where anyone can succeed if they work hard enough insults those very ideals. Someone who "sought to limit the legal rights of detainees at Guantanamo Bay" most certainly does not subscribe to the US tenets of "liberty and justice for all", nor does he care about the rights of American citizens, whose privacy he sought to invade by tapping their phones. Finally, it's as if the reminder about humble beginnings will somehow mitigate the criticism Gonzales has faced, the rhetoric equivalent of "you wouldn't hit a girl, would you?" To go back to point one, once you've had lunch with the President at his Crawford ranch, you can't really play the oppressed card anymore.

So while rising from a disadvantage background to become US Attorney General is indeed an accomplishment, speaking from a position of faux-humility is ridiculous. Once you've attained a certain level of power, it's no longer a question of how far you've come. It's what you do when you get there that counts.

Photo red eye conundrum

Quick survey of the minuscule Excessively Diverted readership.

When fixing red eye in photos, what do you do when only one eye can be fixed? Do you fix one and not the other, or do you leave both red? On the one hand, one fixed eye must be better than none. On the other, symmetry is also good.

What to do, what to do...

Boba Fett balaclava

So, he likes it. He really likes it.

(Phew.)

Boba Fett Ski Mask

After learning many important lessons from my first attempt at my somewhat-well-designed but clumsily-executed prototype, I started a second ski mask, this time with better yarn.

Here is the front part, from the wrong side and the right side:



Here's the completed front part, and the two parts about to be sewn together:



Put together and worked in the round:



And almost completed, but not completely bound off in just case it doesn't quite fit Jeff's swelled head.



It does, however, fit me:


I've debated about whether or not to share the design, for two reasons:
1. The mask was made by special request. I like the idea of it being one of a kind, something special.
2. The mask's design is a little counterintuitive. The type of colour knitting I used (intarsia) can't be worked in the round, which would be the logical way to go about knitting a ski mask. There's really no point in knowing how I knit this particular ski mask if all you're looking for is a basic ski mask pattern.

General tips, however:

• Starting points for the mask included the brief instructions here and here (scroll down). Honestly, if you can knit a hat in the round, you can knit a ski mask (or balaclava, or what have you).
• The neck section should be at least 4 inches long and have fewer stitches than the rest of the mask. Cast on about 10 fewer stitches than you would need at the widest point and definitely work in a rib (probably 2x2). Increase to the number of stitches you want for the head over 2 or 3 rows once you've finished the neck portion.
  
• The eye slit is made by simply binding off the appropriate number of stitches (mine was 6.5 inches' worth) and then casting on the same number of stitches when you get to the point again. Definitely go for the cable cast on over the single cast on.
• BO for the slit at the 7 inch mark. Knit a further 5 inches before beginning decreases.
  
• I didn't continue the 2x2 rib when I reached the "head" part of the ski mask, but instead switched to stockinette. However, the three rows above and beneath the eye slit were knit in 1x1 ribbing, for added security.