My sister and niece are going to a bridal shower this weekend (for the wedding we’ll all be going to next month). Look at the lovely gift card my niece drew:
Isn’t that sweet? She’s so talented!
Me, I don’t really have any plans for the weekend. Cindy might come by for a sock heel lesson, but other than that . . . I suppose I have some cleaning I could do . . . Exciting, huh?? (grin)
Have a great weekend, everyone.
I was right in the middle of writing a post last night, when our cable modem went out. It’s been doing it a lot lately, and it’s always frustrating–suddenly, no Internet, no access to the outside world, no blogs, no yarn sites with tempting things to buy. Frustrating and all-too-frequent.
And yet, really, a year or so ago, I only rarely read blogs. Two years ago, I was still using dial-up. Ten years ago, all Internet access was the expensive, minute-by-minute kind which put a serious crimp on how much time you could spend browsing the ‘Net. Fifteen years ago, I had a “laptop” computer that was my college graduation gift and weighed about the same as a pile of bricks. It had a monochrome, LCD screen, too, which was impossible for anything other than word processing . . . (I think my dislike for computer games with any more action than your average game of solitaire dates back to trying to use that screen.) Twenty years ago, we had one computer in the house–the one I got from Drew when I started my Freshman year. It was part of their Computer Initiative, a program of the very first liberal arts college in the country to give a computer to every single incoming student (The Epson QX-16, the second one, was the one I got. For that matter, Drew’s was also the first voicemail system I ever experienced, and my first taste of the Internet–anyone else remember Bitnet? I’d talk to students all over the world, and I think I was one of the few who wasn’t studying computer sciences). It didn’t even have a hard-drive, for goodness’ sake, you had to boot it up each time off of floppy disks. Before that the only computer I had had any access to at all was the mainframe at Dad’s office, which I was able to use once a year to type up my English papers.
If you keep going back, my father worked in the programming department of one of the very first banks to use computerized accounting, the Howard Savings, back, just at the cusp of computers entering the business world, in the 1950-60s. He’ll tell stories about the total amount of RAM stored in huge rooms filled with machines–miniscule amounts. (I’d tell you the amount, but my brain tends to shut off when I start hearing techno-babble . . . I can tell you though that my current laptop is, er, substantially stronger.) About computers that had just switched from vacuum tubes to transistors. How ladies walking past the room at quitting time would kill the machines from the static of their skirts. How trucks driving down Raymond Boulevard would cause the computers to crash by vibrating the vacuum tubes.
Now, Juno wrote a nice little paean to the space program the other day, and how we forget how impressive it is–because it IS amazing, being able to leave our planet. And there are so many things we can do, that we have now, without thinking, that just weren’t around when I was a child in the 1970s. Answering machines. Calculators. Personal computers. The internet. VCRs. Fax machines (remember when they were the cat’s pajamas in terms of “high-tech?”). Overnight delivery services. Cell phones. Satellite communication. Cable television. It puts being able to play solitaire on your computer in a whole new light! And the space program? It’s about more than just drinking Tang. People in the 60s got that–it was a marvel, a miracle–now it’s humdrum, yeah, yeah . . . and it should never be that. Never! I blame all the special effects in movies, myself, for making the incredible look ordinary. If it weren’t for Star Wars making it look so simple . . . (grin)
With all the terrible things going on in the world (you don’t need a list, you know the things I mean–terrorism, war, famine, pollution, global warming), sometimes you just have to stop and look at the things on the plus side of the ledger. I’m not saying that technology is all wonderful–convenient, yes, but not without its downside. I don’t need to tell you knitters and spinners that, either. You folks understand that there is value in the simpler things in life, or you wouldn’t be spending your time figuring out how to spin your own yarn, or making baby gifts by hand instead of just buying something at Baby Gap. But at the same time, this community of knit-bloggers–which I love being a part of–couldn’t exist without 21st-century technology. I love the irony of sitting behind my spinning wheel, connecting with the past, and then then turning around and connecting with all of you. Modern technology has opened so many doors that would otherwise have been closed–if I’d even known about them at all.
I know some people–the modern Luddites–fret that the modern world doesn’t leave room for people to connect to each other any more. We’re all too isolated in our air-conditioned houses, driving our private vehicles, sitting in front of glowing screens (whether television or computer) . . . and yet, I feel I’ve made more friends in the last year than I have in the last fifteen put together. That IS a modern miracle, and one which I am grateful for, and so I wanted to take a moment to point out some of the things that we take for granted. Sure, there’s nothing quite like getting together in person with family and friends, sharing good food and good times, all of that.
Most of us are fortunate enough to live in a place–wherever in this world it may be–where food is plentiful at the grocery store, we have shoes on our feet, decent healthcare–and if the world is all too literally blowing up around us, at least the world that has created suicide-bombers and terrorists willing to fly planes into skyscrapers, has also created this online community of caring and giving people. I can’t count the number of blogs I’ve read in just the last six months that are raising money for charity, or knitting for charity, or knitting for online friends in need. The Fiber Random Acts of Kindness group, which exists solely to spread a little comfort through the world. Stephanie’s Knitters Without Borders group, which as raised a whopping $78,747 for Doctors Without Borders–just since last year’s Christmas tsunami. And I can’t remember how much Wendy raised last year for Heifer International
Talk about modern miracles.
And, you want another one? My Union Square Market Pullover is finally starting to behave itself.
Finally–as we’re all driving around, dealing with other drivers’ stupidity and road rage and traffic jams and all that (this assuming you don’t regularly use mass transit), I read this interesting article, about how singing while driving can keep you more alert and more even-tempered, and therefore safer while you drive. Isn’t it nice to know that I’ve been doing something so smart all these years? I always sing in the car.
Well, my headache finally went away last night around 9:00, after a crescendo of throbbing around supper. (Never underestimate the therapeutic powers of a shower and a scalp massage for a bad headache, kids.) Thank you all for your good thoughts–I’m sure that helped.
I didn’t get any knitting done last night (the throbbing and light-sensitive eyes, you know), but I did read an entire book by Anne McCaffrey. Luckily, I can read almost anytime–unless I’m so sick I can’t keep my eyes open, I can follow a story, but it’s got to be a book, not a magazine. Easier on the eyes.
I also got some spinning done after I came upstairs at bedtime. This–surprisingly–is a pretty good rendition of the color, too. It’s really a lovely orange.
And also, for that spinning thing, these have arrived. Hand Woolcombing and Spinning by Peter Teal, and the Summer 2004 issue of Spin-Off, featuring an article on wool combing. Both were recommended to help me turn that bag o’wool in the next room into something actually spinnable. Far be it for me to resist reading material!
And that would be a good thing, because as Cate mentioned, the website for Rhinebeck is up. Now, I’ve never been to a sheep and wool festival before, but now that I’m, you know, spinning and all, and it is technically within day-trip driving distance, and October is one of my favorite months of the year and very pretty for a drive . . . don’t you think that I really should go?
As to knitting, I’m finally ready to finish the hem for my Union Square Market Pullover. I didn’t actually measure it this time (I admit, I was afraid), but I knitted half of it off onto a second needle again and held it up and just eyeballing it, it looks pretty close. And considering this is the fourth time I’ve knitted this hem, it had better! I picked up all the provisional stitches (although I used the crochet-cast on), which took me about 20 minutes, and it was getting on toward bedtime by the time I’d finished, so . . . actually knitting the hem closed will just have to wait until tomorrow. The possibility of using the main color . . . the thought makes me giddy!
I’ve been fighting a caffeine-related headache all day. Now, I don’t drink a lot of caffeinated beverages during the day–a cup of half regular-half decaf coffee in the morning, and a cup of tea at night, after my shower. On weekends, there may be a cup of tea in the afternoon, or maybe a little extra coffee in the morning, but generally, two cups a day, neither one exactly overflowing with caffeine. However, my body is used to having that much (yes, isn’t it wonderful to know you can become addicted to such a small amount?), and when it doesn’t get it, it gets cranky. Like, say, on days when your office coffee maker is broken. Sure, I could have made a Dunkin Donuts run, but, I didn’t, and by lunch time, the corpuscles in my brain were clenched tight and making their displeasure known. So–an unusual thing–I made myself a cup of tea while home for lunch.
Here’s the tricky thing. When my head starts clenching from any caffeine-related cause (too much or too little, doesn’t seem to matter), trying to solve the problem by adjusting the internal caffeine level is either going to be wildly successful, very quickly, or more or less catastrophic. As you may or may not know, a hot, sweet cup of tea or coffee can help almost any normal headache–the heat, the sugar, and the caffeine, dilating the nerve endings of the brain, (or something like that)–all contribute to helping ease the pain on its way–but when my headache is caused by caffeine, it’s like playing with fire. I have yet to figure out any kind of pattern like “When headache is caused by A and is at B extreme, adding C amount of caffiene is successful.” It’s a guessing game–one which I’m sure you can guess, my mental synapses SO enjoy!
Right now, 3:30 in the afternoon, there’s definitely a headache. It’s not a walloping one, but more or less a vascular, throbbing kind of pressure at my temples, behind my eyes . . . but more like those brushes drummers use than the full-on parade, big, bass drum. If I’m very, very careful (and very, very lucky) the drummer will keep it down and I can deal until bedtime. If he pulls out the drumsticks and picks up the tempo, though, there may be a problem (grin). Here’s hoping!
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You Are a Plain Ole Cup of JoeBut don’t think plain - instead think, uncomplicated |
Still more frustration with my Union Square Market Pullover sweater. At this point, it’s just lucky that I like the sweater so much, or I’d be about ready to give up on it. Why, you ask? Because apparently my gauge has changed yet again! I was just finishing the hem–for the third time–and slid half the stitches to a second needle, just to be sure my gauge was still where it needed to be . . . and somehow, it has changed again. Last time I did this, with 200 stitches, the sweater was 42″ around. Well now, with 186 stitches . . . guess what? Still 42″! How, I have no idea.
So, obviously, this is frustrating, and I said as much to Mom last night, with my voice edging into those upper registers, “How is this possible? How can my gauge have changed from 4.8 stitches to an inch to 4.4 stitches? Everything’s the same!” Argh . . . again!
This little outburst of disbelief, though, prompted my boy Chappy–ever attuned to his mother’s state of mind–to jump up onto the ottoman, wagging his tail. “Are you okay, Mom?” He is such a sweetie, I tell you, and does not like to see me upset. If Mom and I squabble over something, the minute our voices start getting tense and high, he comes running over as peace-maker, getting between us and climbing up my leg to make me smile . . . and I tell you, it’s not possible to maintain anger when you’ve got your sweet dog looking so adorably concerned–you just have to smile.
Or sick, either–when my allergies were making me miserable in April, he’d frequently come over to sniff at my nose, my breath, as if checking to make sure my health was still stable. He did the same when I had bronchitis in December–every coughing fit would make him run over to check my breathing, and there was one morning where he kept running between me and the door all night long, but the minute I got up in the morning and opened the door for him and he saw I was upright, he calmed down. I swear he thought I was deathly ill–I wasn’t, mind you–but it was the first time in his 3 1/2 years that I’d been sick at all, and he didn’t know what to make of it, and I had tasted the tiniest bit of blood at the back of my throat from all the coughing, and I’m convinced that that freaked him out.
Basically, I think Chappy has nominated himself as my own, personal watchdog in all senses of the word–he’s not just concerned about keeping me safe from burglars or scary UPS delivery people. No, he’s going to keep my mental state as happy as possible. It’s touching, really. All our dogs have made me smile, but none have overtly made it their purpose in life before!
Anyway . . . so . . . I’ll be frogging the sweater AGAIN tonight. But really, how the gauge changed over the course of three days with exactly the same yarn, same needles, same location, same time of day, same lighting, same state of mind, same environment (thanks to central air conditioning) . . . I have no idea. HOW could it have changed? Like I said, it’s not my math I’m distrusting, it’s the chameleon-like way this has of playing tricks on me.
And, oh yes–I’d twisted the stitches when I joined the round, too. Thank heaven I know how to fix that*, though . . . because, you know, if I hadn’t needed to tear everything out tonight because it’s too huge for me, it would have been really frustrating . . . although, of course, that’s the word for the day.
I placed an order last night for some size 2 Ebony circulars, thinking they might help . . . but at the same time am reluctant to try any other needles–if I can’t get consistency from my preferred needles, what makes me think I will from something altogether different? (Not to mention that the gauge, at that point, will theoretically also be different and I’ll have to re-do all the math . . . again.)
Anyway. Other causes for frustration? My entire family went down to Freehold to visit my aunt and cousin today–the first time since my uncle passed away in April. And I couldn’t go. For whatever reason, my sister decided to schedule this for a weekday rather than a weekend, and naturally picked the one week during the summer when I absolutely cannot take a day off, since my boss is on vacation. (I know she’s said how busy their weekends are, but I don’t recall hearing about anything specific this weekend just past, so I don’t know why it couldn’t have been yesterday. The weather was better, too.) So anyway–the entire family is visiting without me, and I feel terrible. I just hope my aunt doesn’t feel that I didn’t want to come because, while I really do tend to want to stay home with Chappy pretty much whenever possible, I would definitely have wanted to see her–I haven’t seen anyone from that side of the family since my uncle died, and I would have liked a chance to pass on some condolences in person. (Sigh.)
And, oh yes, I have to go to the dentist this afternoon. We had some huge, rolling thunderstorms overhead this morning which even woke me up (always an accomplishment–I’m lucky I hear my alarm clock beeping at me in the morning). Chappy is home all alone for basically the entire day–except for lunch–and of course, I’ll be getting home late as it is because of the dentist, so I feel badly for him, too. I even broke not one, but two fingernails opening the door to the office this morning. (It’s not that I’m vain about my nails, don’t do manicures, but darn it–that affects my typing and my knitting!)
You know, really, it’s just . . . Monday. It’s a very “Monday” Monday.
*To fix a twisted, circular join, after you’ve knitted a few rows so that it’s clear to see where the twist actually lies, work it around to the first stitch–the one where you joined the circle in the first place. Drop that stitch and run it down to the cast-on row. Physically work the twist off your needle so that it’s in that “run” stitch, then pick up and re-work the laddered-stitch. You’ll have a tiny twist at the actual cast-on row, which will barely show, but the knitting itself will be twist-free. Much better than frogging the entire thing and starting from scratch!
(Note: This twisted-fix is not my idea. I read it somewhere online, but can’t for the life of me remember where or find it in order to give proper credit. Somebody more brilliant than I came up with it–I thank whoever you are!)
Lots of Saturday stuff to tell you. First, the weather is finally lovely–mid- to upper-eighties, no humidity to speak of. Actually pretty pleasant. (Take that as intended, as a compliment–I’m really not a “summer” person.) We took Chappy out for a walk this morning–his first in two weeks (yes, you heard me), and we all enjoyed that.
Then, Mom and I went out. We decided we’d scope out the new LYS, Nonna’s Yarn Cafe . . . you know, scout it out to make sure it’s twin-proof for Risa. (See, purely a charitable gesture, not any, um eagerness, to get in there to see the yarn or anything like that!) We didn’t know what time they opened and got there around The sign said 11:00. Okay, no problem, it IS still kind of early. We headed over to Starbucks for some refreshments, and walked back to the shop around 11:15. Hmm. Still closed. We peered through the window, a little disappointed, then walked back down the steps to the car. Just as I started the engine, two ladies walked up the stairs . . . saw us looking, and waved . . . well, gosh, we had to go in now!
So, we did. The shop, we found out, is run by two sisters, Josephine and Nickie, and is named for their mother, who taught both of them to crochet, knit, sew, and all sorts of crafty things, but who passed away just before they opened. The two of them are both dedicated crocheters, and only recent knitters. There’s nothing wrong with that, of course, but I think it explains the lack of much sock yarn. They had some nice yarns–Debbie Bliss, Gedifra, Noro, Berroco–and Nickie got very excited when she talked about having all these beautiful yarns to experiment with, and eager to add more and more yarns to the collection. (I believe it’s her intention to knit or crochet a sample of every yarn in the shop, and she sounded very excited about it, too.) There were novelty yarns but also some “classic” ones, which is a relief because, really, I don’t much like novelty yarn (grin). I like to show off my stitches, not the “fancy” stuff a yarn designer decided to throw into a yarn.
I would have liked to have seen a little more sock yarn, or a little more lace-weight yarns, and I didn’t see a single circular needle (unless there were some hiding in the basket of bamboo needles in the back), or “gadgets” like stitch markers, row counters, and the like, but all in all I thought it was a nice shop. Sunny, airy, clean (which is not something you can say about every yarn shop). The back half is a little coffee area with some very yummy looking desserts and biscotti. Could use some more books, but then, we all know I’m a biblioholic and want to see books just about everywhere I go. Tina said that the owners were very “normal,” which I take to be a compliment. I thought they were both very friendly and easy to talk to (though they seemed a little on the shocked and appalled side when I said I didn’t like crocheted sweaters–of course, Nickie was wearing one at the time, so it might not have been very tactful of me, but it was nice and I was speaking generally!). They also want to start doing get-together nights for crocheting and knitting, and get some lessons scheduled . . . although I wonder if they’ll be having advanced knitting classes, since Nickie is still a beginner at knitting.
Oh, and I did introduce myself as Chappy’s Mom after we’d been talking for a little while. If I’d hated the store or found them unfriendly, I probably wouldn’t have, but they were nice, and knew about my blog, so . . . I did! I also bought five skeins of Debbie Bliss Alpaca Silk in a gorgeous shade of red. Incredibly soft, and just a lovely color. I don’t know what I’ll make with it–maybe a scarf kind of thing for winter. Or a lacy shawl. Or . . . well, I don’t know yet, but whatever it is, it’s going to be soft.
Mom, Chappy and I sat outside on the deck for a while this afternoon, in the shade, with a breeze, and no humidity to speak of. Very nice indeed–at least, until my allergies started complaining. And when the mail came, guess what I got?
A box from my Secret Pal!
That’s two skeins of sport-weight yarn from furryarns.com in nice, pastel-y shades of pink and blue. I haven’t ordered from that site yet, but have been eyeing her hand-painted Zephyr for some time, so it’s nice to see some of her stuff in person!
There’s also some shea butter handcream in there, in a scent called “Rainy Afternoon,” a box of adorable, pear-shaped candles. Some lip balm.
And not one, not two, but three bags of goodies for my boy Chappy for his birthday. Isn’t that nice? He’s already had one of the special, frosted ones and has been looking for more ever since.
She also made me some stitch markers (her first attempt, she said!) and I think she’s doing a much better job at them than I am (grin). (I’m getting stuck on that whole wire-wrapping part–everything’s round. How are you supposed to hold one end of the wire still while the other end wraps? It’s a mystery.)\
All in all, a nice Saturday. And now we are all going to go to dinner at Stewarts (the root beer people)–one of the few places that still has car service so that you can bring your dog. Needless to say, it’s Chappy’s favorite restaurant.
Oh, and look at this site of baby hummingbird pictures. Pretty remarkable!
Dinner:
I wouldn’t want you to think that I’ve given up spinning, what with all the talking about knitting and felted wool lately. Tonight, I pulled this bagful of Corriedale from the closet. (It photographed remarkably accurately for color, too–just a trifle on the bright side.)
I haven’t gotten very far with the actual spinning yet, but I started, anyway. (At least with spinning I don’t have to worry about gauge–grin.) I did, however, experiment with long draw again, with still the same result. Thick and thin yarn, which always breaks at the thin spots. (No comment.)
But still, it was behaving better than my Union Square Market Pullover tonight (the saga continues). I ripped out what I’d knitted . . . again . . . and cast on my new number of stitches (186) . . . but by then the outer layer of yarn from my skein had decided to unwrap itself and was a nice tangle at the bottom of my knitting bag. I worked that snarl out and safely rewound it around the skein. But by then, the yarn I had just frogged had managed to tangle itself around itself, the needle, the skein . . . and oh yes! Somehow it got caught in the wire of my row counter–how, I have no idea! By the time I’d gotten everything untangled and back on track . . . well, let’s just say that my sweater hasn’t exactly gotten very far tonight.
And I’ve been making [very slow] progress on the pretty roving that Liz sent me in May. (Yes, May.) Spindling is supposed to be more productive than wheel-spinning because it’s easier to pick up at spare moments . . . and yet, it never seems to work out quite that way. But I have been working on it, and I do love the colors.
Meanwhile, my poor Ashford Kiwi sits in the corner, unused and feeling like a bizarre kind of chair, since I’ve got the bench from my writing desk straddling its treadles. Poor thing.
I’m so glad it’s Friday–it’s going to be an interesting three weeks coming up at the office. My department (which really is two, overlapping departments) has 5 people. My boss is on vacation this week, with one of our other people out next Friday. Then one person is out for the next two weeks, at least one of which is going to be overlapped by one other person. In other words, we’ll be short either one or two people, out of five, for every day for the next three weeks. Oy. (To be fair, though, the worst of the shortfall is on the “other” side of our department from me–I’ll try to help out, but the worst of the over-work/stress will fall on the other folks. From my point of view, at least that’s something–just a little extra guilt to deal with for me!)
Okay . . . here’s hoping that the third time’s the charm.
I knitted eight of the border rows for my Union Square Market Pullover, and thought it would be smart to just double-check the gauge before I completed the hem and switched over to the main color. So I knit half of the next row onto a second needle (so as to be able to stretch the stitches out) and . . . well. Turns out this was very smart. This is still huge. Not quite as huge as before, but still big!
How big, you ask?
42″, give or take a fraction.
Now, according to my gauge swatch of 5.25 stitches per inch, this should have been 38″. But no. Apparently I’m getting 4.8 stitches to the inch.
And this is Fingering weight yarn (Rowan 4-ply Cashsoft), with an estimated gauge of 28 stitches over 4″ (10 cm) on US size 3 (3.25 mm) needles.
I’m getting 19 stitches over the same width using US size 2 (3 mm) needles. How ridiculous is that?
Apparently, at this gauge, I’ll need 182 stitches to get the right size. (I say “apparently” not because I doubt my math skills over such basic math, but because this is my third attempt–it’s not the math, it’s the fact that my gauge keeps changing!)
Now, I figure I have two choices. (Well, technically, three, but giving up on the sweater is not one I will allow myself to consider. I am hosting the knit-along, after all.) I can either (1) go with 182 stitches and recalculate every number in the entire pattern as I go. Or, option 2, I can pull out the lace-weight Misti Alpaca I bought and make a gauge swatch out of that and see what I get! (I thought it would be too fine and was kicking myself for buying it, but maybe it wasn’t such a crazy idea after all.)
The plus side for the first option is that at so few (relatively. few) stitches, the knitting will go faster. For this size sweater, the original pattern calls for 250 stitches–I’d have almost 70 less per row. That’s a bonus, right? And the yarn knits up very nicely–very soft and comfy–I’d like to try to see it through with this. And doesn’t it seem crazy to make a sweater out of a lace-weight yarn? (I mean, you do what you’ve got to do, but some things seem more reasonable than others.)
I’ll mull this over . . . I think I need to start another lace project, pronto. At least gauge isn’t as important, there! Lace is beautiful, and easy, and generally good for morale.
In other news, my friend Cindy (last I heard) is at the hospital with her brother, because her sister-in-law went into labor this morning. In fact, she called me at work this morning–she wanted to bring her sock with her, but needed a quick refresher on how to do the short-row heel. I did tell her over the phone (with the reminder that it’s exactly the same as the toe she started with), but she was so giddy with new-Aunt excitement, I don’t know how much sunk in (grin). I hope everything’s going well!
We also had a quick visit tonight from my sister’s brother-in-law. He’s getting married next month and his bride wanted to borrow some old photos of him and Mike, growing up, but getting to my sister’s house in Pennsylvania was going to be tricky. He works not too far away, though, so my sister brought them here, for him to pick up. But the funny part is that, in the almost 17 years that his brother has been married to my sister, he’s never once been to our house. He’s been invited, and when he worked even closer, he had a standing invite if there was ever a particularly bad snowstorm. He even literally comes within a mile of our house on his way home (sometimes, depending on the route he takes) . . . and yet, this was the first time he’s been here. Obviously, this has to change. Especially now that his and Mike’s parents have moved to Delaware, Mom and I think that, one of these weekends (after September, anyway), we’ll have to invite him and Betty over, on some weekend Patty and her family are here. It would be nice!
And, good gracious heavens . . . poor London. Not again! (Not that I’m deliberately burying this at the end of my post, like it’s old hat, old news. Just . . . I can’t believe it. I’m just grateful that there apparently weren’t any fatalities this time. Thank you, God.)
One more thing. Head over to the birthday girl’s blog tomorrow (Friday) and wish her many happy returns. I’ll be catching up to her in November!
Well, the weather was at least marginally better today–still hot (ugh) but not so hazy. You could actually, you know, breathe. And see! I actually caught a glimpse of Manhattan off in the distance this morning. It’s been obscured by humidity for over a week now. Thank heaven for central air conditioning
The other plus side was that there was actually some sunshine. So I took my Flower Basket Shawl out to play.
Not that the conditions were ideal–by the time I was able to get out there with the camera, the sunlight was dappled out on the deck, and I had to drape it over the mesh chair, so you still can’t quite see the pattern or the beauty of this yarn.
I did try, though! It’s frustrating that I can’t get you a photo that shows off how beautiful this shawl really is. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow. It can be my new hobby!
I’ve restarted my Union Market Square Pullover, too. I was having trouble getting the gauge, you’ll remember–by rather a lot. Knowing my gauge was a little big (ahem), I cast on the 226 stitches called for the smallest size sweater, hoping they would come out about right . . . Um . . . Not so much! Huge! So . . . frogged the several rows I’d knitted the other night . . . but managed to salvage the cast-on row so as not to have to mess with the crochet chain again. (I opted, obviously, for the crochet-cast on rather than the “invisible” one.) Then, I pulled out the calculator and crunched numbers for what I really need. I’ve got 202 stitches on the needles now and it looks like it might be closer . . . the trick will be that I’m not going to know my row gauge until I’ve knitted a couple inches, and that will affect some of the shaping. Because, apparently, my gauge swatch was completely useless–the gauge I was getting from knitting in the round was different than the swatch, anyway, so I can’t trust that for row-gauge, either. Or, anything at all, apparently. Oh well. All part of the fun, right? At least the colors are nice.
I had plans to visit the new Yarn Cafe with Risa this weekend, but she badly sprained her ankle the other day and we both agree that trying to hobble around the yarn shop–on crutches–with twin toddlers–is not a good idea! (And I didn’t even tell her that there are some steps to climb to get to the shop–negligible for someone on two solid feet, but really not a good idea in these circumstances. See, Risa? I’m just looking out for you!) Anyway, go on over and give her some moral support–the twins haven’t been feeling great, either, this week, and her parents willingly gave up a vacation to help out, and . . . it’s just not a good week! Not getting to the new LYS is really nothing compared to that. (Though, she did tell me that I could go ahead and “scout.” I don’t know, it just seems wrong . . . !)
Guess what my Mom did today? She and my niece went into New York to see Carly Simon. They went in to be part of the studio audience for the taping of her interview for CBS’s Morning Show (to be aired on Monday). And as they were walking through Times Square–up there on the marquee–Carly Simon’s interview from Good Morning America, which aired this morning.
For those of you who don’t live with a rabid Carly fan, she’s got a new album out, released yesterday, of old, classic, love songs–Moonlight Serenade, I’ve Got you Under my Skin, In the Still of the Night…that kind of thing. She’s obviously working hard promoting it, and was supposed to be on CNN last night, too, but got bumped for the new Supreme Court nominee. (Imagine a news network finding that more important! My mother was crushed.)
Here’s Mom and Tiffany, with Mom’s e-friend Meme and her stepson Mark in the background. Meme is another Carly fan and the four of them met up at Port Authority and walked together to the studio.
They hung out in the waiting room before going into the studio–which was also standing-room only–and they unfortunately couldn’t get very close. There were apparently more important fans in a different waiting room that got into the studio first, got the better view, and had a better chance to meet Carly afterward when she came over to shake some hands.
It’s a running kind of joke that my mother, huge fan though she is, has not yet gotten to meet Carly Simon. She’s the member of a close group of online fans, and when Carly gave her two concerts at the Apollo Theater in Harlem last December, the group that went on Friday night got to slip backstage and say hello, but the group on Saturday couldn’t. (Bill Clinton was there, and apparently the security was extra tight.) Almost every time Mom goes to Martha’s Vineyard–where Carly lives–Carly’s out of town. (Not that Mom would get an invite or anything, but not even a chance of bumping into her on the street!) In fact, Carly’s doing a cd-signing at the store she co-owns in Vineyard Haven at the end of the month–one week before Mom will be on the island. It just seems like they’re never going to have a chance to meet, which is a shame, because my mother would be darn entertaining–she “bubbles” so well when she’s excited!
The sad part is that a friend of mine actually did bump into Carly Simon while waiting for the ferry to MV a number of years ago. She checked to make sure it was, in fact, her, and told her she enjoyed her music, Carly said thank you, and that was it. When she told my Mom the story . . . well, you needed to pick Mom’s jaw up off the floor!
They had a great time, though, and enjoyed the music and the interview. Tiffany took a couple little movies with my camera, but didn’t know how to turn the flash off to take photos . . . and I can’t get a still photo off of the movie clips, which is a darn shame. (I’m not saying it’s not possible, just that I don’t have the software to do it.) They got the 2:30 bus leaving the city, and I got to leave work half an hour early to pick them up at the bus stop. Tired but happy–I’m just glad for their sake that it wasn’t so humid today–still in the 90s, but at least you can see (and breathe). The haze level the last few days has been horrible.
And, oh yes! Mom got home to an Amazon box and assumed that it was the copy of Carly’s CD that she’d pre-ordered months ago, and wasn’t going to open it (since she bought 2 copies at Barnes & Noble yesterday–just in case there was an autograph opportunity) . . . but she did, and it turned out to be a gift from one of her fellow fans. A CD of Kate Taylor (sister to James). He’s a friend of hers, and she’s apparently performing at a restaurant/club every Thursday night during the summer on MV, and the last night Mom will be there in August, she’s going to go, and he thought Mom should hear her music beforehand. Wasn’t that nice of him? It’s not just knitters who think to do these kinds of things! (And of course, we all know how important it is to look inside every single box before ever throwing it away!)
So . . . it may be time to just accept it. That this whole combing wool thing just isn’t meant to happen. Or at least, not with me.
I’ve had this bag of Gotland (yes, Gotland) wool–slightly felted from my inept cleaning of it–sitting in the guest room since February. I’ve tried carding it with some [economical but small] dog brushes. I’ve tried combing it with these combs that I bought. And basically, I’m not really having any luck getting spinnable fiber.
Some of it, no doubt, is because I did accidentally felt some of it when I washed it last winter. (Yes, it’s been sitting, waiting for that long. February.) I am sure that my handling of it made all of this more difficult. So, I’m trying to teach myself–these things are bound to happen. The somewhat solid chunks of wool are entirely my own fault. Mea culpa.
However, I am having no luck whatsoever getting the non-felted parts combed. Nor, using those–admittedly small–dog brushes is the carding thing working very well. Maybe I bought the wrong kind of combs? But anyway you look at it, at this point, I can’t tell if it’s my amateurish skills (read as “no skills”), or if it’s that I’ve ruined the wool and it’s never going to be usable for yarn, or if it would be salvageable in expert hands. But either way, it’s kind of sad, don’t you think?
At this point, I’m almost willing to put the combs up for sale on Ebay, pass the dog brushes on to Chappy, and throw away the wool, with my apologies to the sheep that grew it. It’s lain around the guest room long enough.
I think, for the time being, I’m just going to stick with commercially prepared roving. (grin) Poor Gotland. It deserved a better home.
You know, I really wanted to be able to show you a lovely picture of my Flower Basket Shawl, all blocked and ironed and looking beautiful.
The problem is that–it seems every time I finish a project, we get weather like this.
Cloudy.
Rainy.
Practically no natural light at all.
Downright depressing, in fact.
So that this is really the best I can show you. Draped over my arm in what little sun we had yesterday. (And I think you can tell by the photo that that wasn’t much! But you know, it’s misty. The Dementors are breeding.)
Or this one, laying over the ottoman in the front window. The colors are not glowing, they’re not shining, they’re not glimmering from their depths–because there’s really, again, no natural light to speak of.
Really, you’re just going to have to take my word that the shawl looks beautiful and that the colors are wonderful. At least until such a time as we have a sunny day and I can provide better photographic evidence. At least you saw the blocking pictures from the other day. That’s something, right?
I’ve been reading Robertson Davies today. I find that after flying through a much-anticipated book, that trying to read anything afterward that’s too similar is a mistake. Almost any other Fantasy book would be compared to Harry by my currently Harry-obsessed brain, and almost definitely be found lacking in fun or some, indefinable quality. Later, after other readings, I’ll be able to follow him up with, say, Diana Wynne Jones (always a treat) or Robin McKinley, or some other, similar “feeling” book and be okay, but for the first reading? It would be a mistake–like asking somebody to come out and sing the Star-Spangled Banner right after Ethyl Merman, or Blue Suede Shoes after Elvis. It’s just too much to ask. The only thing you can do is bring out someone who excels in jazz or country or anything that’s different than what your star just sang, but who is equally good.
Hence, the Robertson Davies. A Canadian man of letters, erudite but funny. Quirky but elite. Accessible but a little bit of work. And absolutely no wizards, wands, prophecies, or evil villains. I picked the Salterton trilogy, whose first two books I love. (Though the “Lyre of Orpheus” is my favorite of his.) Because this is the other trick–to force your brain to settle into something else when it’s thinking “Harry. Harry. Harry.”, or after any book that catches your imagination and doesn’t want to let go. You have to pick something else you already love. Trying to follow it up with something new is a mistake, because if it’s not sterling-good, it won’t keep your attention, and you’ll just blame it for failing. You can’t know how good it’s going to be until you’ve read it. No, you have to pick a book that you already know you like and is worth the read, so that if your attention flags you can urge it onward, knowing there’s a good pay-off coming.
(See? This is what happens when you’re an obsessive reader who is just as happy to re-read an old book as read a new one. You learn lots of little tricks to make sure the brain up there doesn’t get bored!)
Hey, did anybody else catch that Dumbledore knits? He mentions enjoying reading Muggle magazines for the knitting patterns. Aw, sweet!
Ack!
(Don’t worry–I would never give away any spoilers–I promise this is safe to read if you haven’t read or finished your copy yet.)
So . . . I got up this morning at 8:00, had a bowl of Cheerios for breakfast, and then went out to pick up my copy of Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince. While I was paying at the grocery store, a girl got on line behind me, and said, “Is that the new Harry Potter book?” I nodded, and she asked, “Is it any good?” Heavens–even I don’t read that fast!
I started reading at 9:15.
As slowly as possible, to savor the whole thing.
I even paused for lunch, for tea breaks, to unpin and iron my Flower Basket shawl. I talked to my sister on the phone for a bit. Minor stuff like that.
But this was my view for most of the day–sitting on the loveseat, in the front window, with Chappy and The Book.
Incidentally, my second copy, destined for my sister’s house, arrived in the regular mail at 1:40, by which time I was already on page 352. Glad I didn’t wait!
I finished page 652 at 4:10, so that’s just under 7 hours for the whole thing. Which means I averaged 1.57 pages per minute, and I swear, I really was reading as slowly as possible. Really! I paused after every chapter to reflect on what I’d read and everything.
Opinion? A slow start, but good. (Again, I promise there won’t be any real surprises given away.) I need to absorb some of this because, just like the last one, a lot happens at the very end. I can see why JKR enjoyed it so much–she’s said that she’s very happy with the way it came out. There’s some nice interaction between Dumbledore and Harry . . . which, really, given the covers shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone . . . and there’s a lot of background and answers given in here. Not as urgently-paced as, say, Goblet of Fire (until you get closer to the ending, anyway) but it ties a bunch of things together.
What will I tell you? You get a peek into Fred & George’s store–not a surprise if you heard the internet clip from JKR’s reading in Edinborough last night. You meet up with the new Minister of Magic (JKR had said there would be a new one, so this is not a spoiler) fairly early. The announcer–since Lee Jordan has since graduated–for the second Quidditch match of the book is a delight. Yes, there is some romance, but I wouldn’t dream of giving names. A few visits to the Hospital Wing. A really obnoxious quidditch player. A character unseen since book 4 makes a couple of appearances. So does Hagrid’s little brother. Also yes, somebody dies, a major character, and in a way you wouldn’t expect. You do learn who the Half-Blood Prince of the title is, but not until the end (which is pretty much what you’d expect in terms of timing).
And, my, what a set-up for the next and final book! Harry’s definitely got his work cut out for him in his next appearance. This book answers a lot of questions and gives a lot of reasons for things that have happened–which I loved–but it leaves some pretty daunting tasks in front of Harry for Book 7, except now, he has an idea what he’s up against. Can’t wait.
So, the Flower Baskets are blocking. I don’t think the colors are quite what they should be here, but the yarn’s wet. I am just loving the shading, though. I’m so glad I thought to use different colors! (And, due credit: Mom helped inspire the idea as I was looking at color swatches.) And I’m still surprised at how fast this shawl came together. I started it on Saturday night of Independence Day weekend–just two weeks ago. Wow!
And yes, I will try ironing it. I’m curious, and if it worked for Stephanie . . . I might need a drink first. But then again, speaking of drinking….
My parents got some frightening news from two of their oldest friends yesterday–scary, but with as good an ending as one could hope. After an evening out with their son, daughter-in-law, daughter, and son-in-law, they were dropped off at their house by the limo driver they’d hired (so no one would have to worry about having too many drinks–or so they thought). The driver then headed out with the four “kids” to drive them home. Now, their son is a really great, successful guy, but their son-in-law apparently has an inferiority complex of some kind, and gets violent when he’s drunk–which he apparently was. As I heard it, they were riding along, and suddenly, out of the blue, the son-in-law punches their son in the side of his face, breaking his jaw and knocking him to the floor, and then got on top of him, pummeling him, and then started to choke him. By now, the daughter-in-law is trying to get him off her husband, and the limo driver–thankfully a big fellow–had stopped the car. He came around back, pulled her up, pulled the son-in-law off, and basically saved their son’s life. They were told by the doctor at the hospital that he’d been within 30-60 seconds of dying, and he’s told his parents that he literally felt the life going out of his arms and legs and had been sure that he was going to die.
Luckily, there’s no physical damage that won’t heal–broken jaw, blurred vision, and horrible bruises around his neck–but the rift to the family? They’re supposed to be celebrating one of the parent’s 70th birthday in a month or so, but now the daughter and son-in-law have been disinvited, because their son and his wife refuse to be in the same room with him–possibly forever. Their daughter is sticking up for her husband, saying that he was driven to it by her brother’s needling . . . which, knowing him, I find hard to believe. And I can’t imagine that anything he could possibly have said would have warranted such an attack by his brother-in-law. Not that the brother-in-law doesn’t have a history of this kind of thing–he beat up his own brother the day before that brother’s wedding. (As in, the groom had a black eye in the wedding photos.) His mother and sisters don’t even speak to him . . .gee, I wonder why!
I feel so terrible for this family. Thankful that their son is still alive, but I can’t begin to imagine the repercussions to this. And this story was followed by Kerstin’s news. I don’t know which is worse–losing a son to a car, but having the rest of the family for love and support, or having the son’s life saved, but the family’s internal structure completely wiped out. Either way, I’m praying for all of them.
On a lighter note, some more Harry stuff: Check out the Guardian’s “Written as” links–telling the [purely fictional, they made them up, this doesn’t mean a thing about what’s actually in Book 6] death of Dumbledore as written by any number of authors. It’s silly and funny. I particularly liked Enid Blyton, Bertie & Jeeves, the Sun, and Sappho (not to mention Scooby Doo).
My car passed 25,000 miles today. It’s only taken me 3.5 years to get there. My father and sister tend to tease Mom and me about the mileage on our cars. They rack them up, while we stay closer to home. You’re not going to hear me complaining about a 4 mile commute to work–I love my commute and an quite happy to low mileage, thank you very much. It makes these “big” numbers all that more special.
What is that, up in the sky??
Yes, it’s a Flower Basket Shawl.
Complete, but unblocked, and hanging over my mirror.
The pattern, you’ll remember, comes from Interweave Knits’ Fall 2004 issue.
The yarn is four different colors of Artfibers’ Chai.
That’s color #22 at the very top, a pale, golden beige, that shades into a bronzy #28. That, in turn, combines with the bronze-green #34, which shades into the green #36. (The colors looked better over the mirror, but here you can see at least some of the pattern.) I lost count, but I did either the 8 repeats called for in the pattern, or one more. It’s a nice, smallish-size shawl.
I’ll hopefully be able to block it tomorrow–I’m waiting for my NbaT to finish blocking. (It’s taking a lot longer to dry than I thought it would) As soon as its done and off the blocking board, it will be the Flower Basket’s turn.
I had a couple people mention that they were going to be lying in wait for the Fedex or UPS guy on Saturday, for their Harry Potter book. Me, I want my book as early as possible, and while Amazon.com has guaranteed Saturday delivery, there’s no way to know exactly when on Saturday. I also need two copies of the book–one for me (mine! mine!) and one for my sister’s family–but haven’t bothered pre-ordering the second copy. What I’ll do is go out as soon as I’m up and awake on Saturday to find a copy. If Barnes & Noble is sold out (like they were last time) and I can’t find a copy at the grocery store across the highway (where B&N directed me to last time around), I can always just come home and twiddle my thumbs until Fedex arrives–but chances are I’ll find a copy–and maybe pick up some milk while I’m at it–and be back home reading at the earliest opportunity. The only way it would happen faster would be to go to one of those midnight parties, but, really, how would I explain that to Chappy?
I’m glad Chief Justice Reinquist is out of the hospital. Is this Supreme Court thing reminding anyone else of a West Wing episode from two seasons ago? The fictional Chief Justice was very ill but hanging in there, when another seat opened up. They ended up convincing the Chief Justice to step down and nominated a very liberal AND a very conservative judge for the two open seats. Now, in the real world, we’ve got Sandra Day O’Connor retiring, and an ill Chief Justice . . . sounds awfully familiar to me! I loved that solution on the TV show, wouldn’t it be cool for it to happen in real life? (Not that it will, and frankly I’m a little concerned about Pres. Bush getting to fill two seats–I think the Court works best when it’s fairly evenly balanced. And that’s enough politics for this blog! I just wanted to draw the parallel to the TV show because I thought it was interesting.)
Welcome WendyKnits! readers! Wow, the power of an “A-list” blogger–my hit statistics have quadrupled in the last 12 hours. The Peacock Feathers Shawl you’re here to see? You’ll need to look in June, about halfway down the page, on the 14th. (Though, of course, please look around at other stuff, too. You are more than welcome!)
I’m almost done with my Flower Basket Shawl, and am still amazed at how fast this has gone–I only started it two weeks ago, added at least one or two extra repeats (I lost count), and now am in the middle of the edging. Tonight or tomorrow night should finish it, and then I’ll post pictures, I promise. It looks lovely–now I know why so many people have been making it. Easy to knit, and so pretty!
It’s two days until Harry Potter Book 6. Am I excited? No, no, why would I be? (grin) Okay, I am. I’m a biblioholic and a Harry Potter fan. I can’t help it, okay? Is there anything wrong with a grown woman being excited about a young-adult book? I don’t think so. For sheer entertainment value alone, the books are worth my time, and while I will admit that the last two could have used just a trifle more editing and tightening of plotlines, I’m not complaining–I’m happy to read anything JKR is willing to write.
Here’s my plan for Saturday morning. Get up. Get dressed. Eat breakfast. Drive [sedately, legally] to the store to get a copy of The Book. Come home [still sedately, no speeding!]. Sit down. Read. . . . That’s it. Read. Until I’m done. Sure, I may glance out the window a few times, I’ll probably pause to make some lunch, but nothing much is going to happen until I’m done with the book. If I start reading at 10:30-11:00 . . . let’s see . . . this is about 200 pages shorter than Order of the Phoenix . . . I should finish around 3:00-4:00 that afternoon. I’ll try to keep the speed down so I can savor it, though.
Incidentally, I have both British editions (in paperback) and U.S. editions (hardcover) in my library, and have to admit that I’m biased in regard to the Scholastic Publishers’ art. Chances are, you’ve seen pictures of the US cover with Mary Grandpre’s luscious artwork; and the British covers are pretty well publicized, but have you seen the Ukranian covers? They’re wonderful! But what about the German ones? Who is that creepy looking kid on those covers? The Finland covers aren’t exactly a picnic, either. It’s fun seeing what other countries are doing with the artwork, but I can’t help but wonder if they’ve actually read the books?
While we’re talking about Harry Potter art, though, here’s another website, ArtDungeon, with some really lovely pencil sketches and watercolors. Another one: Pottery Art.
This is pretty pathetic, though: our the Newark Star-Ledger this morning had an article on Harry Potter with synopses of the first five books . . . except, they made a glaring error. They said that Harry’s godfather died at the end of the Goblet of Fire, when of course, it was Cedric who died at the end of book four. Silly muggles! Doesn’t anyone on their staff read the books? (You know, like the person who wrote the synopses?)
Oh–and the Emmy nominations were just announced. I can’t believe Gilmore Girls was slighted yet again on the Emmy nods today. Sure, Desperate Housewives was inevitable for a slew of nominations, and that’s fine–good show–but Will & Grace, for heaven’s sake? That hasn’t been funny since the first season, and Gilmore Girls just had one of its best seasons ever. Sheesh. And West Wing for Best Drama? Don’t get me wrong–I’m a fan and never miss an episode (you know, when NBC is actually airing them), but it’s nowhere near the quality it was those first three years when, yes, it deserved just about every plaudit you could give it. But now? The nom for Alan Alda is great, but Best Drama? Really? Do the people who make these nominations watch the same shows I do? Ever?
I’ve finally got my NbaT blocking. (I would have done it last week, but since my niece was coming for the weekend, the guest room bed was kind of spoken for.) I hope the water isn’t going to damage my blocking board . . . you can see how wet it still is by the water “halo” around the sweater . . . I’m assuming it won’t be hurt, because, well, blocking does use a certain amount of water, and surely the manufacturers planned on that.
And here’s my 27-stitch swatch for my Union Square Market Pullover, which seems to have bloomed when I washed it. I should be getting 4″ (10 cm) to my 27 stitches, but you can clearly see here . . . 5″. This will call for drastic revamping of pattern numbers and a lot of hoping for the best . . . because, of course, the sweater is also knit in the round and I do get a different gauge between knit rows and purl rows, so that’s an unknown factor going in.
(And then I wonder why I have trouble getting sweaters to fit??)
Hey–go give Julie some moral support; that magazine (which I won’t name) “borrowed” her bag pattern with a promise to give her credit, and is now blowing her off and sending legal threats at her [justified] complaints. Corporate America. Gotta love it.
I really have next to nothing to say today. I’ve added to my library–as can be seen here–my latest order from Amazon.com. I drove my Mom to the car dealer after work so she could pick up her car, which was in for routine maintenance. My sister, niece, and nephew stopped by briefly, and brought Mom along on their trip to Pier One so she wouldn’t be bored stuck here in the house.
And . . . that’s about it! For now, anyway. I haven’t yet washed the USMP swatch and so am therefore not yet ready to play with the pattern’s numbers. Tonight I’ll concentrate on my Flower Basket Shawl instead. So, even the knitting news is boring. Sorry about that!
One thing I’ll add–I got a comment today from the author of one of the books I read in March, and I thought that was pretty cool–I comment on books that I read all the time, but I’ve never had an author comment on my comment before. (The saddest part, though, is that my opinion wasn’t the most favorable–I rated it an “average” book and I actually felt kind of badly that the author saw that–is that silly?)
Now, I can salvage this otherwise lifeless post with one click. Yes, that’s just one click. Click here for some singing horses (this site cracks me up). Have a good evening, every one!
So, I’ve finally got some beautiful yarn for my Union Square Market Pullover sweater. The gauge the pattern calls for is 27 stitches over 4″ (10 cm); the size on the yarn’s wrapper is 28 stitches for that size. No problem, right?
Wrong. I pulled out the called-for needles (US Size 3)–in bamboo, nonetheless, instead of the Addis I love–cast on 27 stitches. Started knitting a swatch. Hmmm . . . seems a little big. Pulled out the ruler. Double-checked it. Triple-checked. 5 1/2″? You’ve got to be kidding. How can my swatch be almost 40% larger than the one called for??
Okay. Fine. Pulled out size 2 needles. Knitted my swatch . . . 4.5″ for 27 stitches. This is insane. I refuse to knit an entire sweater on size 1 needles! I mean, they’re fine for socks, but an entire sweater? I’ll still be working on it in my retirement home.
So, tomorrow, I’ll sit down with my pattern and my calculator and try to figure out what I actually need to cast on for this sweater. Maybe the laceweight would have worked after all. Sometimes I feel like I’m the only one who has these kind of gauge problems, and I can’t help but wonder why. I used to get pretty close to gauge and rarely had to go more than one needle size in either direction to have it work out, so I’m not sure what happened (grin). Sometimes I can fudge it by just knitting the smallest pattern size. While I’m not fat, I’m not that small, either–by rights, a Medium would be the size I’d be making, and using the smaller numbers often ends up working right, as long as I keep an eye on row-gauge for shaping. But, while I’m more than willing to drop down a few needle sizes if necessary . . . there’s not much room to go from size 3.
Anyway, I’ll wash my swatch tomorrow and see what happens. Meantime, my Flower Basket Shawl is making progress. I think one more repeat and then I’ll do the edging. I can’t wait to see it finished. Not because I’m not enjoying it, mind you, but because I’ve crossed that invisible line between “Enjoying the Process” and “Can’t Wait for the Finished Product.”
Chappy wanted me to thank all of you for the happy birthday greetings. He said that he had a wonderful time, and he’s loving his new toys.
I heard from an old pen-pal from Germany today. We’ve been writing since I was, oh, a sophomore or junior in high school, so that’s like 21-22 years. In fact–and I suppose this will just prove that I really am a geek–we met through a JRR Tolkien fan club. (I really have been a fan for a long time, you know, not just since the movies!) It’s been over a year since I heard from him, and it was so nice to get the e-mail. Gerhard was the first person I ever got truly interesting letters from–he obviously hadn’t learned the same formula for letters that we’d learned in school, because his wasn’t just the “Hi. How are you. I’m fine. Today I went to school” variety. His was fascinating. Lively, conversational, and darn it, illustrated with pencil sketches all the way through. I immediately started working to upgrade my own epistolary skills. He remains the best letter writer of my acquaintance, though we don’t have much in common any more and we’re not as regularly in touch. Still creative, too. He writes his letters on the back of his 365-day a year movie calendars, and instead of using conventional envelopes, uses full-page magazine ads, wrapped around the folded sheets, with the address squeezed in over a likely spot on the illustration. (My mail deliverer must really love him for this.) Anyway. It was good to hear from him.
Today, we celebrated Chappy’s birthday. My sister and her family were here for dinner (turkey, brown rice, corn on the cob–all very tasty, but we could have used a food with a little more color for appearance’s sake). And of course, there was birthday cake. I made a sponge cake and served it with berries, chocolate syrup (for those who wanted it), and whipped cream . . . a general dessert that I’ve been doing a lot lately. I love those fresh strawberries!
Here’s Chappy waiting for the go-ahead to eat his cake. (And yes, I deliberately framed it to cut off the top of his head. Really. Why would you even ask such a question?) I love the anxious look on his face, “When is she going to say ‘okay?’ I can’t wait much longer!” The burning red eyes just kind of cap it off.
He had a great day. He got a new toy–a triangular, flying disk type toy that he played with in the kitchen for a while. He would brace his two front feet on it, and then push to send it flying back through his hind legs, whereupon he’d spin, pounce on it again, and do the whole thing all over again. Very cute. I wish I could post video, because I recorded a few seconds of it on my camera. It was really very entertaining. He also spent time in the backyard, playing fetch with Tyler (he loves that Flying Squirrel toy), and they brought him a gallon-sized milk jug. Empty milk cartons are one of his favorite toys–they’re so light and skittery that they’re hard to catch, but have handles and can be picked up once he finally does catch it . . . he loves them and has an ongoing cycle of them as we go through our milk supply. But we drink the two-quart size, not the gallons, so one of the extra large jugs is a rare treat.
He spent most of the afternoon panting and wagging his tail. His whole family was here. The weather was lovely (about 90, but no humidity, and with a breeze). New toys. Good food. Lots of playing. Basically a perfect day for a dog. You know, the one who’s flat on floor on the other side of the room right now, exhausted with the exhaustion of the happy puppy. Life is good.
(Well, it is here, outside the line of Hurricane Denis. I’m thinking of all of you in its path. Stay safe.)
Today, Mom, my niece, and I went to see Ragtime at the Papermill Playhouse in Millburn. Absolutely wonderful. This is one of those shows where, if the actors don’t have the pipes, they can’t carry their roles, no matter how good their acting may be. Every actor had a wonderful, strong voice. (Okay, Father’s wasn’t the best, but his is a smaller role and he did fine.) Since the singing was everything you could hope for, the show was great. It’s got one of the best soundtracks around, I think–the incredibly moving dirge, “Till We Meet That Day” at the end of act one, “Wheels of a Dream,” “New Music,” which Coalhouse uses to lure Sarah down the stairs is one of my absolute favorites, and even the opening number, “Ragtime.” All amazing. If you like this kind of thing and get the chance to see it at a decent theater (see note above about necessary singing quality), by all means do. As it is, I think I’ll be listening to the soundtrack in the car for the next couple weeks, and my niece already has a copy of her own, now . . .
I was very brave, too, and brought some knitting with me–a washcloth that I decided to make out of some of my leftover Calmer from my NbaT. It started as a double moss stitch, but I got a little lost knitting in the dark, and ended up doing some ribbing there, in the middle (grin). I think the kind thing to do is to frog back to the last row before I lost the pattern and carry on from there. Or maybe I’ll just leave it there as a little “souvenir” from the show! I haven’t entirely decided yet. I think it was pretty inevitable, though, that, doing anything other than garter or stockinette stitch, that I’d get confused on the pattern, without being able to see what I was doing. But wasn’t it brave of me to bring it along?
And look! Finally, a winner in the Union Market Square Pullover Yarn Contest. Rowan’s 4-ply Cashsoft. Not only did Jimmy Beans Wool get this here very quickly–I only ordered a day or two ago–but look, they included a lollipop, too. I’m so relieved; now I can finally start this sweater. (And I was thinking about it during the “Night that Goldman Spoke at Union Square” number in the show this afternoon, too!) It’s unusual for me to pick colors so close to the ones in the pattern–I tend to like to pick my own–but . . . I love red for sweaters, first of all, it just makes the sweater extra cozy, or something. And for the accent color? There weren’t that many to pick from that weren’t too dark, too light, or that clashed too much, and darn it, it’s a nice combination. Didn’t it catch my eye in the first place??
Hey, my niece made herself a Candy Bar Doll. Isn’t she cute? Picture the hair a shade or two lighter, and, well, you’ve got it. (I made one of myself last month, you’ll remember. Fun!)
What, exactly, is normalcy, of course, on a day like today, that follows a day like yesterday?
Well, knitting content does spring to mind. I’m into my fourth color and my 6th (I think, I may have lost count) set of repeats in my Flower Basket Shawl. It’s looking fabulous, and I’m going to end up with quite a bit of extra yarn . . . gosh, isn’t that just dreadful? I wonder what I’ll do with it! (grin)
For my Union Square Market Pullover yarn dilemma, I’ve at least narrowed down the choices. I packed up and shipped back the Herrschners and KnitPicks yarns yesterday. There was nothing wrong with the actual yarn, mind you, but it wasn’t what I was looking for, and I decided it wasn’t needed in my stash, either. The Misti Alpaca laceweight, though, I kept. If the gauge is too small (which, let’s face it, it will be) I still love the color, love the yarn, and with the amount of lace I’ve been doing lately, I have no doubts that I’ll find something to do with it.
And in the meantime, I’ve ordered yet another yarn to try in this sweater: Rowan’s 4-ply Cashsoft. The gauge should be right on the money, and the color (Redwood, with Rose Lake) looks just about perfect for me, and if it’s as nice to work with as the Debbie Bliss Cashmerino . . . how could I complain? The price was good, too, only $7.95 a skein–that’s reasonable enough, wouldn’t you say? Okay, $2 more than the Dale Baby Ull, but I’ve heard wonderful things about the yarn and I am, of course, getting money back for the returns . . . (You have to realize that I hate making returns–once I’ve picked out and brought something to my home, I don’t want to let it go. So, actually sending back that yarn is a big step for me!)
This weekend, my 16-year old niece is coming for a visit. She, Mom, and I are going to the Papermill Playhouse on Saturday to see Ragtime, a show I saw on Broadway in 1998 and loved. It has one of the best musical scores I’ve heard in a long time, deeply moving, lyrical, incredible harmonies . . . really amazing, and I’m looking forward to seeing the show again. Tiffany’s never seen it, and the production is supposed to be excellent (styled more on the London theater version than the Broadway version, but that’s fine with me).
Sunday, my sister, brother-in-law, and nephew will be down to reclaim my niece, but also to celebrate Chappy’s birthday. Nothing big, mind you, but who can object to an excuse for the family to get together and eat cake? Which reminds me, I need to find time tomorrow to bake a cake.
And, of course, tomorrow I’ll start my reading of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix. One more week until book 6 is out!
Incidentally, I drove past Nonna’s Yarn Cafe the other day and saw an “Open” sign in the window. That’s great and exciting, huh? But I’m trying very hard to be good and wait until the 23rd, when Risa, her twins, and I can all go together. It’s really just as well that I have plans for the weekend, huh?? I mean, she said she’d forgive me if I couldn’t wait that long, but I’m really trying!
And, an old Irish prayer to leave you with:
May God bless those who love us.
And for those who don’t love us, may God turn their hearts.
And for those whose hearts cannot be turned, may God turn their ankles so that we may know them by their limping.
My thoughts and prayers are with the people of London today.
I couldn’t believe the news when I woke up this morning, and am appalled, shocked, horrified, and deeply upset at this attack on one of my favorite cities. The timing seems particularly horrible. Not only the political ramifications, but just the emotional pendulum swing from yesterday’s jubiliation over the 2012 Olympics. Cruel.
Please check out Stephanie’s entry today, and the perfect quote from Gandhi.
I hope everybody’s safe, out there.
NOTE: This post was written before today’s events in London, but there’s an odd, personal connection for me, here. When 9/11 happened, we’d only had Chappy about two weeks. Our office closed early, and I went home and spent most of the afternoon sitting on the floor, staring at the news on TV and letting little puppy-Chappy coax smiles as he romped and played, oblivious to the horrors on the screen. But, Mom, Chappy and I also took a walk up the street (well, she and I walked, he got carried since he hadn’t had all his shots yet) and there we stood, watching the enormous, miles-long plume of smoke stretch across the horizon. The World Trade Center had been visible way off in the distance.
Having Chappy around being his cute, baby self–completely unconcerned with the scary events of the day–was the only thing that made that day bearable for me. And now, this horrible event has happened on his birthday–another day when we are all, again, confronted with horror and death on the television. In amidst all the grief and anger and compassion on behalf of those in, or with loved ones in, London–I am thankful yet again for the bundle of uncomplicated joy running around my life in a fur suit. I just hope there are just as many sweet, children, cats, and dogs in England as there were here that day, to provide some emotional relief from this senseless act. It’s important to have something to remind you to smile, even when–especially when–surrounded by terror.
My little puppy is in fact four years old, today. I can’t believe it.
So, brace yourself. Cute pictures and motherly-gushing coming up.
So . . . four years ago today. July 7, 2001. Here’s Chappy, his 4-legged mother, and a handful of brothers and sister. (One girl puppy; the rest boys.) Sometimes it amazes me how much Chappy’s face looks like his Mom’s.
A few weeks later–I’m not sure, but I think Chappy’s the one in the back on the right . . . but they’re all adorable, so does it really matter? (Well, yes, to me!) But my gracious, these puppies had just the cutest faces. The day we picked Chappy up? Seven little heads popped up with these round, little, interested brown faces . . . God, so adorable.
Five weeks old; the day I actually met the puppies. Again, I know that all the puppies in a pile of chocolate brown puppies all look alike, but I believe this is my little guy. The fur texture is right, and he slept on his back like this almost all the time when I first brought him home. Still does, for that matter.
Three months old . . . how could you not love this face? (grin)
Almost the same spot, almost the same pose, but when he was almost a year old–much more grown-up!
Chappy’s parents, Buddy (his dad, on the left), and Tawney (Mom, on the right). They create sweet and beautiful puppies together.
Let’s see . . .
I’m having no luck getting the yarn for my Union Square Market Pullover. None of the three sweaters’ worth of yarn has worked out–either the gauge or the color or the texture . . . So frustrating!
Here’s the latest contender. Nice yarn–Dale of Norway’s Baby Ull. The problem is the color. The green–which photographed too dark, here–is really a light, lime green. A nice enough color, but lighter than I really want for this sweater. And the aqua for accent?? Way too bright. It would be adorable for a baby boy’s sweater, but does not go with
