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New In the Shop This Week

I have a couple new sections up in the Tiny Dino Studios etsy shop this week.

Along with feeling the pull toward lace weight myself, I jumped in and bought a bunch of it to sell!


I am listing two skeins in each color way, which is more than enough to make a sweater. My new lace line is called Oviraptor, after the small, but sharp little carnivore. It is 100% superwash merino wool, and you can feel the strength of this seemingly delicate 2-ply when you hold a skein in your hand. There are 875 yards or yarn per 100g skein! At $24 each, that’s one sweater for less than $50, which is less that I usually pay for a ready made one at the store that doesn’t quite fit properly.

Second, I have new worsted weight yarns, or as we call them, Pteranodon yarns, for winter. I have been thinking for awhile that I would like to do larger lots of my worsted weight yarn so projects other than a hat or a pair of gloves would be possible. I would like folks to be able to make sweaters, vests, and really big cushy scarves or shawls if they like.

My first two colorways are in my favorite of my new winter color stories:


5 skeins (1090 yards) of Sugar Plum


4 Skeins (872 yards) of SemiSolid Teal

Pteranodon yarn is available for $16 a skein, which makes it very affordable. Plus, you get the unique character of building a garment out of hand dyed yarn.

Now all I need are patterns to go alone with it all. Which, believe it or not, I am working on.

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Tiny Dino Studios is Open For Business

And it only took my three days to make the official announcement on my blog. That’s a bit of a fail.

Sunday afternoon, I spend a couple of hours prepping some photographs and double checking my product descriptions and officially got my etsy shop up and off the ground. It was a quiet opening, and there have been no sales as of yet, but I think that is mostly my fault. The only promotion I have done is tweet once that I was open. That will change soon, I am sure.

Look for more updates soon, and feel free to stop by the shop!

A preview:

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The Sock Curse

I have a problem. A horrible, terrible, dastardly no good problem. It’s a very strange problem for a knitter to have, particularly for someone who enjoys knitting socks so very much. You see, in the eight months since I began knitting socks, I have knit six pairs of socks. That’s twelve socks that have come off my tiny double-pointed needles, and yet, I have no hand-knit socks to wear. Now, I am not a selfish knitter, one pair of socks was for my sister, Audrey, who spent last semester in Russia where wool socks are essential. I have even made two pairs for my boyfriend, because he is demonstrably appreciative of having warm feet, and there is something greatly satisfying about watching something you have made shuffling about being useful. I like to knit for other people, but I also like to knit for myself. In fact, the other three pairs of socks I have knit were meant to be worn by my very own feet. Yet I have none. The Culprit: The Sock Curse.

The first pair I knit for myself were in KnitPicks Felici in the Time Traveler colorway. The colors were very similar to the The Doctor Who Scarf. This summer I happily knit them up, all excited for the opportunity to where a Dr. Who tribute on my feet. When they were finished, like a good knitter, I washed them before I wore them. I pulled the socks out of their soak in my bathroom sink, and I felt them grow in my hands. I did not worry. They were superwash. I could probably just throw them in the dryer and shrink them back up. So I did. They did not. Thus, the first pair of socks were no longer mine. They grew to gigantic proportions. My feet are big, but not gigantic. My boyfriend, however, does have gigantic feet, so he now owns the Dr. Who socks.

The second pair of socks I knit for myself were some 100% Merino which I dyed myself. They were hand-wash only socks  in a beautiful mock cable pattern with my variegated green and pink dye job. The fit perfectly in the heel and the toe, and they were snug, but not too tight in the cuff. They were warm, but since I knit them when it was 100 degrees outside, they sat in my drawer waiting for a drop in temperature. But these socks were not content to simply sit in a drawer. They were beautiful, and they knew it. They had to be seen. The pink mock-cable socks allowed their vanity to best them and jumped out of the drawer and onto the floor where they could be briefly admired before being scooped up with the rest of the laundry and tossed in the washer. By the time I found them, it was too late. They were still beautiful, but now they were delicately felted pink mock-cable socks that might fit a six year old. Since I know no six year-olds, and maybe because I was really upset that my perfectly perfect pink socks (I really like pink, and I am not afraid to admit it) were no longer fit to be worn, I threw them away. Hours and hours of work in the garbage. Throwing away knitted goods, even if ruined, might be considered a knitting felony in some circles, in which case I claim temporary insanity–which actually might not be too far from the truth, as I am still too scarred to knit another pair.

The third pair were this semester’s sanity socks, because school came dangerously close to actually driving me crazy this semester. It worked out, quite nicely might I add, that I often-times arrived in Lawrence for school just around the time the yarn shop downtown opened up. Since the yarn shop is just a hop, skip, and a jump from campus, I might have gone in a couple of times instead of being on time for class. One time, I might have skipped my astronomy class altogether and bought two balls of Mini Mochi and a set of needles and cast on for a pair of socks right then and there. The yarn was so beautiful:  a superwash single-ply in blue, violet, and green with long color repeats. I was in love, and knit them up in my free time over about a month or so. I finished them on laundry day, and since they were superwash, I tossed the pair in with the regular washing. I thought I was being so smart, saving time and (my) energy, and I would have a brand new pair of wool socks to wear the very next day. It turns out that mini mochi is only mostly superwash. At least, this pair decided they would felt just a little bit. They probably were trying to teach me a lesson about skipping class to knit, because when the socks came out of the wash, they were a teeny bit sturdier, but also a teeny bit smaller. I tried them on and tried to match up the heel of the sock with my own heel, but my giant size 10 feet weren’t having it. The sock heel kept slipping down to my arch. These socks, originally tailored to fit my long feet were now shrunken down to fit the feet of someone who wears an average size 7 in shoes. Yesterday, after washing them again and making sure they would not shrink any further, I offered them up to the other women in my family, all of whom have much smaller feet than I do. They went home with my sister, Caroline, and I hope they serve her well.

I still don’t have any socks. It is a curse.

I was dyeing sock yarn regularly from July through October (what I have been doing since October is its own post), so I have a lot of sock yarn laying around. I have made a couple pairs of mittens with some of it and a couple pairs of socks with some more of it, and it hasn’t even made a dent in the sock yarn stash. I currently have plans to start on two different pairs of socks for myself. One, just a regular old, plain pair of stockinette socks out of some of my hand-dyed yarn. (Pictures to come once I actually cast on). The second pair I am going to use one of Wendy Johnson’s lacy toe-up knee sock patterns out of some 100% merino I dyed hot pink. I have never done toe-up socks before, but I figure if I am going to go for it, I might as well really go for it. They should be stunning.

Of course, I am going to do all of this while finishing up school (I passed my astronomy lab! I will graduate in May!), working full-time, learning to spin, knitting a few sweaters, dyeing yarn and roving, starting an online shop, and being a mom. ETA on finally owning a pair of my own hand-knit socks?

3.25 years.

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Autumnal Ennui

It is officially fall, even though in Kansas the temperatures are still nearing the 90’s during the day.

And believe it or not, I have been working!

But probably not as much as I should have.

I finished the wedding afghan, did a lot of reading, got over a cold (mostly) and just generally have felt rather low in energy. I used “ennui” in the title, but I did not really mean it. It sounded better than, “I have been really freakin’ worn out, and I am attempting to preserve my bandwidth, and I don’t want to stretch myself too thin right now.” I think working all the time might be apart of being a small business in the long run, and honestly, I prefer being busy. I like having a to-do list that is two miles long. I like checking everything off that list by the end of the day. But then I have to be practical about what I can get done in one day, considering that I basically have 2 full-time jobs already, on top of a family. I have finally realized that I can give myself a break. I an sit down and listen to Craflit (I started with Persuasion, my favorite Jane Austen), and work on plain-jane socks and it’s OK if that’s all the energy I have.

So, I have been spending a lot of time listening to Jane Austen and knitting socks out of mini mochi. They have beautiful color transitions, and it makes me want to knit and knit and knit to get to the next one. I might be going on to a sock knitting kick right now. I want to be knitting about six pairs of socks at a time. It doesn’t hurt that it’s getting to be sock-wearing season around here, or that I now have so much hand-dyed sock yarn, that I really could be working on six pairs of socks at once–though I might need to get some more needles.

My hand-dyed stash has become so large that it now has its very own bin. For the record, the hand-dyed stuff far outnumbers the commercially dyed stuff.( And the three sweaters worth of yarn I have doesn’t count, because those are all more-or-less works in progress.) Spinning adds to the hand-made stash as well. If you look at the above photo and notice the little pink ball of yarn, you will recognize my very own hand-spun. That’s right, my very first knittable hand-spun yarn. I made a cowl out of the rest, which I have yet to photograph, but it is awesome, believe me.

And just to prove that I have been doing a little dyeing at least:

Chestnut BFL with some Gunmetal Merino trying to muscle its way into the photo.

And a light, half turquoise, half chestnut in Merino, that I think will be beautifully obnoxious knit up into a pair of socks, and I can’t wait to get started on it. Most likely the next pair of plain-jane socks for myself. The pushy gunmetal will probably be socks for the boyfriend. Or the Chestnut BFL.

Someday, I might get some of these guys up for sale. Am I inspiring you to pick up the needles yet?

I think I am going to go work on making some yarn a nice pumpkinny orange.