Adriene's Couch - Do. Make. Create.

Inspiration Mondays: Not the Only Obsession

2012-02-13T19:46:00.001-07:00

Cure for an obsession: get another one. -- Mason Cooley

I'll admit it: I talk a lot about knitting. And when I'm not talking about knitting, I'm talking about yarn, and when I'm not talking about yarn, I'm talking about spinning, and when I'm not talking about spinning... well... I'm usually not talking.

However, I do have another love: old stuff. Old letters, old postcards, old newspapers, hats, jewelry, books, teacups and colanders.

Yes, colanders. Among other things.

I've recently fallen into the world of vintage ceramics, specifically teacups and teasets. As I was trawling through the web a few weeks ago looking at cafe au lait bowls, I turned to my husband and said, "Did you ever thing you'd be married to an old biddy like me?"

Wisely, he said nothing. At least he smiled.

One of my recent acquisitions was this sweet little cream jug that I purchased from an Etsy seller called Ancien Esthetique. All I knew of it was that it was made by Villeroy & Boch and that it was old and sweet and pretty. I held back from purchasing it for a few weeks until I realized that I had not seen anything quite like it before. When it arrived and I took it out of the box, I cooed in delight. What a nice wee treasure.

Since then, I've been thinking about how nice it would be to find a sugar bowl to complement it. Since I don't know the first thing about identifying old dinnerware, the first thing I did was look up the Villeroy & Boch website. I scanned the page, read a bit about the company, and then promptly gave up. Pah, I said. They aren't going to be able to help me.

Weeks passed, and I faithfully searched online. I looked at images of Villeroy & Boch cups, plates, teapots, platters, even kitchen fixtures and toilets (apparently, if you're in the ceramic business, you also make toilets). I Googled villeroy, boch, pink, cup, tea, ceramic, peach, cream, jug, sugar in various permutations. I learned about pottery marks, learned about other ceramics manufacturers, looked at more modern patterns. At times, I thought about commissioning one to be made to match, but it just wouldn't be the same as getting the real, aged treasure...

Finally, I sent a message to the Etsy seller and asked her if she knew what pattern it was. She replied, "I don't know I'm sorry. I presume you have researched all Villeroy and Boch related sites."

Ehm, well... not really.

So, I went back to the Villeroy & Boch site and the FAQ section showed this question: "Where can I get help about historical products?" And the answer?

"Please contact Ester Schneider for assistance." And there was an link to her email address.

So, I emailed Ester, and by the next morning she had an answer for me.

Thank you for writing and for your interest in the products of our group.
This jug belonged to a dinnerware named "Santos" and was available during the 1950ies. Sometimes there are offers to find under "Karslruhe" which is the name of the shape.
I hope, I can help with this information and remain with kind regards
Ester Schneider

So, I could have saved weeks obsessing over Google searches by just biting the bullet and asking the experts. Heh.

Well, I'm glad to finally know where my little treasure is from, and hopefully, armed with this information, I will find a little partner for it. And in case you're wondering, my obsession has not lessened one bit. If anything, the interwebs will be buzzing with all my future searches... something like, sugar, bowl, santos, vintage, pink.

Ah, sweet insanity. What fun you bring to my life.

Life in a Snow Globe

2012-02-09T19:37:00.001-07:00

Have you ever felt like your world is like a great, big snow globe that has been picked up and shaken for fun? Since I was sick last week, I feel like it's only now that all the snowflakes are starting to settle. The world is finally looking clearer and I look less like a zombie and more like the jolly dolly I am.

Yeah, I'm not sure what a jolly dolly is. It just came out like that, ok?

I've been working steadily on my Paprika Moody. It has been decidedly slow-going because of the ~~mistakes~~ improvements I've been making along the way, specifically:

Adding bust darts to the front to give my "girls" more space.
Ripping out the bust darts because I ended up with way too much fabric on the front.
Making super-stretchy buttonholes for the big buttons I wanted to use.
Stitching my super-stretchy buttonholes closed so that I could use smaller and less distracting buttons.

So, I'm still kinda hovering where I was around this time last week. I think it's for the best, though. These are the buttons I was going to use:

And here are the buttons I decided to use instead:

I think these buttons are much better for the sweater. It meant spending about an hour hand-stitching the buttonholes so that the smaller buttons would sit properly. I can now say that I am now a button-stitch expert. Send me a buttonhole, I'll stitch 'er for ya!

I don't know how anyone would send a buttonhole, but you get what I mean...

I had an out-of-town appointment this afternoon. I usually bring my knitting along to work on in the waiting room, but I happened to arrive a bit earlier than I anticipated, so I decided to have a short walk around the town to explore. I found a second-hand charity shop and spied these:

Size 10, pretty, shiny, sparkly shoes! And the price? Wait for it...

One dollar and fifty cents. Wha?!

I was so happy with my purchase that I actually took one of them out and placed it on my dashboard for the drive home. It was only after I'd been driving for 20 minutes that I realized that the sequins were probably reflecting the sunlight and dazzling oncoming drivers. I snatched it off the dashboard and tossed it onto my passenger seat. Imagine having to explain that to the police...

I guess I could tell them that I was trying to replicate the snow-globe-effect for everyone. Yeah... that'd go over well...

Inspiration Mondays on a Tuesday: Respiration

2012-02-07T18:02:00.003-07:00

I've had a cold for the last few days (in case you didn't know from the last post). Woo boy, that one was a doozy. I haven't had a cold for a couple of years, and man, this one sure made up for that time. I'm happy to say that I'm just about back to normal - a real walking, talking, breathing person.

I don't really have much to say except that, it's days like these that I really appreciate the ability to take a full lungful of breath. There are so many who can't... they live with daily health issues, or have been born with problem lungs, or a problem heart. When I walk outside to take Rascal for a walk, I think I'll remember to stop and take a big, deep breath and enjoy the air while I can.

And well, when you breathe out, the biological term for that is exhalation.

And the biological term for breathing in?

Inspiration.

Heh, I love when it works out like that.

see more Daily Squee

Rascal's Blog Post

2012-02-04T17:02:00.001-07:00

Hi, I'm Rascal. I'm writing my mom's blog post today because she's been sick. I usually sit around looking cute and watching for intruders, but I thought I'd help out and give you an update about what's been going on around here.

My mom came home at around lunch time on Thursday, and this is what she looked like:

Since then, she's been sleeping a lot, drinking a lot of tea and water, eating a lot of soup, and taking a lot of baths. I don't know how the baths are going to help her because, if you ask me, baths are bad news, but she seems to like them.

One of my mom's friends came over in the afternoon on Thursday to drop off this stuff. She likes this stuff a lot. She has lots and lots and lots of it, but she said she was lucky enough to get it at a great price from someone in Canmore who didn't want it anymore. She said she had another friend who even drove there to pick it up for her. She seemed pretty happy to get it.

She even took this stuff upstairs to bed with her on Thursday night so she could look at it before she went to sleep.

I know it's strange to sleep next to this stuff, but forgive her. She's not feeling well, after all.

On Friday, my mom decided she wouldn't go to work, even though she slept a lot. I usually sleep the most in this house, but I think she's trying to beat my record, because I think she slept for about thirteen hours (I can't really count, but that's what she said). She had more baths and ate more soup and drank more tea and water and slept even more. She said she didn't really want to knit too much (I think that's what she calls that sticks-and-string-thing) in case she made a mistake, so she used the thing I tried to chew up during our last trip to the mountains to wind this stuff for her next project:

Today, my mom seems to be feeling better. She even took me out this morning for a walk and even she was sniffing the air a lot, just like me! It's nice to have her back outside with me, because there's so many cool things I've been meaning to show her since she's been sick. She's not always interested in the piles of leaves and the new peeing places I've found, but it's still nice to have her outside, even if it was just for a little while.

This afternoon, she worked on this. She says it's supposed to be a sweater, but I'm not so sure. She says she keeps finding little errors in the pattern (whatever that is). To me, it would make a great napping place.

Anyway, I'm trying really hard to look after my mom. She usually takes pretty good care of me, and it's nice to help her out sometimes. She's not too good at remembering to take as many naps as me, but I'm trying my best to teach her how to do it.

I'm gonna stop now, because this typing thing is pretty hard for me to do with these paws. Happy sniffs and tail wags for now!

Inspiration Mondays: People First

2012-01-30T16:56:00.000-07:00

When I first clicked on this video, I was really not expecting to be inspired by it. It's about how things are packaged in some warehouses across America. I know, not that exciting for a title, really.

When I heard him say that this had to do with thousands of mobile robots, the first thing I thought was, "Oh great. Here's another story where people lost their jobs to robots."

But it wasn't.

It was about how someone thought of making their business work better, AND make working conditions better for his employees. And not only that: it improved their employees' quality of life.

He made the employee the centre of the solution, and everybody won. To quote something he says in the video:

We catch [them] on testimonial videos saying: "It's so stress-free that I've actually stopped taking my blood pressure medication."

I'm so glad that someone thought of a way to make money, but without, for want of a better term, screwing their employees out of a decent livelihood.

And not only that, I liked when he said this:

When you let things start to think and walk and talk on their own, interesting processes and productivities can emerge.

He was talking about giving this ability to the inanimate products themselves, but I think it also applies to the employees themselves. What I mean is: if your boss allows his or her employees to think and walk and talk on their own, the problems that need fixing tend to get fixed. However, if you put people into offices and command them to solve a problem and shut the door behind you, well, you're not really going to get the result you want.

Something to ponder, yes?

Not Just For Egg Salad

2012-01-26T20:14:00.000-07:00

There are four things that you need to make an excellent egg salad sandwich:

Nice, fresh bread
Miracle Whip (or other mayonnaise with a pinch of sugar)
Farm fresh eggs
A good sprinkle of paprika on top

The paprika really makes it for me. No paprika, and it's just not the same.

I'm knitting my first sweater of 2012, Andiomena's Moody which is the adult version of her child's sweater, Cinnamon. I first saw it on G+ on someone's "must knit" list, and I liked it a lot as soon as I saw it.

I've had a ton (well, maybe about a pound or two) of yarn I had ordered last year from Elann.com that was still waiting for me to use. It's Patons Classic Wool in Paprika.

It even looks good with eggs!

I had originally ordered it to make CanarySanctuary's Corona, but I slowly fell out of love with it the pattern. Then, I thought I'd make indigirl's Slow Curve with it, until my friend, dkzack, pointed out that it was very like another sweater I'd made almost a year and a half ago. I might still make it, but maybe with a yarn with more depth and more shades of colour.

So, I've been working away on Moody, and really haven't made it that far. I've been having a discussion with the pattern designer about some of the instructions, and we've both agreed that there are a couple that need tweaking. Luckily, she was glad of the feedback, but this discussion has held me back a bit in terms of progress.

The longer I work with this yarn, however, the more I am enjoying the colour. It has a richness in it that I really didn't expect to find. I had a hard time capturing the colour in the photo, but when I get the sweater done, I'll be sure to photograph it in natural light. I feel sure that the Paprika is really going to make this sweater pop.

Meanwhile, in other news, I have been breaking my yarn diet with great fervor. I've been watching skein after skein of beautiful yarn appear at At Knits End on Etsy. Below are two of my most recent acquisitions: Oompa L-ewe-mpa (in orange) and Sparkle y-ewe-r ass off, a beautiful blend of greys and the palest greens with a touch of real glitter.

It's only after I took these photos this evening that I realized that I seem to have an orange-red theme running through my veins at the moment. I'm not sure why. Maybe my mind is slowly working through the colourwheel (I recall writing posts about blues and greens not long ago). Maybe I'm longing for yet another vacation to sunny climes.

Or, maybe I just need a little spice. Some paprika, perhaps...

Inspiration Mondays: My Favourite Phrase

2012-01-23T19:30:00.000-07:00

A pleasant-looking door in Long Beach, California

Be pleasant until ten o'clock in the morning and the rest of the day will take care of herself. -- Elbert Hubbard

We just got back from our yearly vacation to California. It was a glorious few days, full of sun and interesting sites, fabulous food, great shopping, and best of all, no arguments.

Ok, maybe one little spat, but that was just a minor tantrum from me.

I wasn't sure if I was going to have a good time this time. When we picked up our rental car, the girl who took my details before we drove away barely looked at me. I wasn't sure if we were allowed to leave, so I said, "Do we get to have our rental agreement back?"

She turned and said brusquely, "You're not done. I'll give you a copy if you just give me a minute, ok?" Then, she turned back and kept chatting with the other girl in the booth until she handed me our copies. I drove away, irritated. And it stayed with me the whole trip.

I decided then and there that I would remember my own manners for the rest of the trip, not just with shopkeepers or the hotel staff, but with my husband especially. My favourite phrase: "I'm sorry, I don't understand. Can you say that again?" The perfect defuser for my hot temper.

I think back to past vacations and how many times I would get so frustrated and so tired that I would resort to my weapon of choice: a blast of temper, then the silent treatment, all based on misunderstanding and rushing through the day. It's not a very pleasant way to spend your time away from home, and it was really wrecking my relationship with my husband.

I've been inspired by my friend, Sarah, and the relationship she has with her husband. When I went to visit her a few years ago, she uttered some words that have sat with me since then: "We try to treat each other nicely. We talk to each other politely, the same way as you would to someone you met on the street."

Why don't we do this with the people we are most comfortable? Why is it that, the longer you know someone, the less likely you are to remember your manners?

Maybe it's because poor manners are cool. We see it every day on tv and in the movies, and it's funny. I'm not a prude. I like watching the Simpsons now and then. I love witty (and sometimes rude) ranting. I love a good rant myself.

But then, it makes for a pretty noisy, extremely haggard world. A generation of cynics. And the laughter is only laughter, not really happiness.

I think it's a good challenge to think about how you talk to your loved ones, and to keep track of how many times you forget to say "please" and "thank you." It would be interesting to see if my favourite phrase changes things for you. Maybe if we could say it more often, the world would be different.

Are you listening, politicians? World leaders? Teachers? Co-workers? Employers and employees? You can use my phrase for free, and maybe we can figure out how to get along together a bit better. I'd really like that.

Thanks.

Happily Befuddled

2012-01-18T17:38:00.000-07:00

I know that you believe you understand what you think I said, but I'm not sure you realize that what you heard is not what I meant. -- Robert McCloskey

I'm happy. I'm confused. I'm happy, but confused.

I finished knitting a shawl over the weekend. I used a pattern by Kitman Figueroa called Damask, which I have admired for a quite a while now. It was a fantastic pattern, beautifully executed, and with amazing texture. I used a yarn from indie dyer, Yummy Yarns in a colourway called Green Beans.

I originally planned to use this yarn for Narciso, a scarf I have been loving for a while. I started knitting it when I was home for Christmas in December, but when I got back to my own house, I realized that this yarn deserved a better pattern that would show off its delicate tones.

I took my Damask pattern and looked at the required yardage, and determined that I had enough to make the small size: 400 yards of yarn. Check.

I cast on the required stitches and worked away, delighting in the fact that, since I was starting from the top of one side of the "v" to the other, the stitch count was going to decrease as I neared the end. That part was wonderful, because it just seemed to go faster and faster, something I am not accustomed to experiencing when knitting such a complicated-looking project.

Here's where the confusion comes in.

As I neared the end, I kept glancing over to my ball of yarn, and noticed that I wasn't using as much yarn as I thought I would be using. The ball was not getting that much smaller. That concerned me a bit, but I figured that, since I'd never knit this pattern before, I should keep an open mind. Maybe it would get used up all of a sudden, who knows?

And then, suddenly, it was finished.

I blinked a few times after I cast off. I picked up the remainder of the ball and turned it over in my hands. I got out my scale and weight it. 43 grams left. Hmmm.

I picked up the finished shawl and the ball and weighed them together. 100 grams. Interesting.

I didn't have the label anymore, so I emailed Yummy Yarns and asked them, "How many yards should I have had in this skein?"

Their reply was what I thought: between 360 and 400 yards. Curious.

I was initially annoyed. If I'd known I would have so much yarn leftover, I would have made a larger size. After a while, though, I realized that I just have another opportunity to play with this lovely yarn.

Tonight, I decided to check the size of the needles I used. Maybe I used the wrong size... I did have two sets that were the same colour.

Ahem. Well.... it turns out I used a smaller size needle than required. Size 5 when I should have used size 6.

Doh.

Oh well. At least I have a sweet little shawlette that is small enough for me to wear around my neck and pack into a purse and wear around my head on a cool day.

So, the moral of the story is: Check your needle size. Put them back in the right containers so that you know what size they are.

Or, maybe the moral of the story is: When the ball is not getting smaller as you knit, that might just be a little miracle in disguise.

Or, maybe the moral is: When the going gets easy, just take it. You might be going downhill, but meh, so what?

Aesop would never have written a fable like this... unless he was a knitter, too!

Inspiration Mondays: How to Live Like a Shih Tzu

2012-01-16T21:52:00.000-07:00

People love my dog. My hubby spent one day walking around Stanley Park with him, and almost every other person stopped to pet him (the dog, not my husband). Someday, I hope to have as much charisma as my Rascal. I know, I idolize this little furry thing, but if you really think about it, he does a lot of stuff that I think I should try doing as well.

Greet people with joy. - Rascal always meets me at the back door with a toy and a dance. Even my hubby doesn't do that. It really makes me feel loved.
Sniff food before you eat it. - Think of all the instances of food poisoning that would have been prevented with this technique.
If you hear a weird noise, check it out. - Rascal once helped me realize I'd left a tap running in the bathroom. Flood averted.
If you smell a strange smell, check it out. - This is how the hubby figured out the main breaker in the electrical panel was melting.
If you're not sure about someone, hang back for a bit and watch first. - Sometimes, you just need to slow down and be sure.
Ignore anyone who is too much work for you to be around. - Rascal is really good at this. I tried it once with someone who was really high-strung, and it seemed to help calm them down.
If you found a cookie there once, there might be one there again, so you better just go check. - This is a lesson in persistence.
If your bed is uncomfortable, get up and fix it. - You won't get a good night's sleep if you have smelly sheets or your pillows are lumpy. Spend the time to make your bed comfy and you'll sleep much better.
If your tummy is upset, eat a little grass. - If I've eaten too much junk food, I need a good salad to fix me.
Sleep as much as possible and pee whenever you get the chance. - Think what the world would be if we all did this.

I'm so grateful that I've got this little guy in my life. Maybe the next time you feel a little overwhelmed by life, stop and ask yourself, "What would my dog do?" I bet that the answer is just the thing you need to do!

I Like Big Buttons and I Cannot Lie...

2012-01-13T18:03:00.003-07:00

If there's one thing that causes me to become undone, it's buttons.

Ha, get it? Undone? Buttons? You do them up? Yuk, yuk, yuk... It's a gooder.

I have a weakness for things from a haberdashery. One of my favourite things to do as a child was to visit a fabric store and run my hands along the sides of the bolts of fabrics, like a giant xylophone. I liked to push my fingers into the velvet and rub my face into the satin (which was probably a horrible thing for a store owner to watch). And I loved the buttons... still do. When I was a kindergarten teacher, I would often let the children string the buttons from a jarful I found at a charity shop. They usually made beautiful things from them!

When I found out about Anadiomena's Moody Sweater Pattern, I knew I had to make it. I never expected to want to make something with such a high neck, but the first words in my brain were, "Check out those buttons..."

When you spend a bunch of time knitting a garment, the last thing you want is details like buttons or zippers to ruin the whole lot. I have a weakness for ornate buttons, but I knew that I wanted to find something that wouldn't overwhelm the garment. I needed to find a way to satisfy the tacky, doodly side of my personality, without compromising the wearability of this sweater.

So, off to the internet I went (which is the only place I buy buttons from nowadays, having only a Walmart as my other option, and who wants to have the same thing as everyone else?). I went to Etsy and typed into the search, "big buttons wooden."

And voilà: These appeared on the screen. They are nearly two inches in diameter, wooden and beautiful. I got them from a shop called Lyanwood.

And, of course, the inevitable happened: I ordered a few more, just to make the shipping worthwhile. I decided to make this a wooden button order, because I found out that wooden buttons work really well on handknits because they are lighter. I also prefer the wood over the plastic options. These purple ones make me think of grape Kool Aid:

And I loved the spice orange of these buttons. They'd be beautiful on a grey sweater, don't you think?

I also got these as a freebie from the shop owner. I think they must be coconut buttons, but I really don't know. I think I prefer the lighter side to the darker side, but we'll see what they end up on.

Hey, when you say button, do you say, "buh-en" or "but-ten" or "budden?" My friend, dkzack, usually says, "but-ten!!" like they're the happiest thing in the world.

And you know what? Maybe the are!

Inspiration Mondays on a Tuesday: Doing What You Love

2012-01-10T20:31:00.002-07:00

I choose to be happy because it is good for my health. - Voltaire

Perhaps it's because we're all still reeling with New Year's Resolutions, but I keep coming across a lot of "this time I'm gonna do it!" messages here and there. And yes, I hope that if you're working on something new, this time you WILL do it, whatever it is. Challenging yourself is a good thing, but you know what else?

The biggest challenge we face seems to do things that make us happy.

Today, I came across an article online that was going to tell me The Fat-Burning Exercise that Doesn't Involve Working Out. Naturally, I clicked on the link, because I'm all for any chance to be lazy (Megan, you killed me with those isolated squats!).

So, the gist of it was: If you write about things you care about, you lose weight.

Well, if that were the case, I'd be a size 2.

Of course, they go on to say that, because you are writing about things you care about, you feel good, and are therefore unlikely to go and chomp down on a bunch of chocolates to make you feel better about something. Endorphins and all that.

Yeah, I guess I can agree with that. Since I started this blog, I've learned to slow down and review my thoughts, and have spent a lot of time thinking about the things I like to make and thinking about how I want to write about it. And I spend time reading other blogs and thinking about other people's musings... and maybe I spend less time dwelling on depressing things because of it... and maybe I haven't eaten more chips and chocolate because of it...

I learned a long time ago that you may as well do what makes you happy, because if you don't, you'll make yourself ill. I know this because I left a job where I worked from 6am to 8pm every day, lost a bunch of weight in the process, and a lot of hair, too. And when I felt brave enough to leave it, the world changed for me... I was able to look around and get to know people, enjoy the scenery, breathe deeply, and love people properly, without the exhaustion that hovered over me constantly before.

I still have a lot of things I need to do to find the courage to do in order to make myself happy, but it is encouraging to know that there is some proof out there that doing the things that make you happy really is good for your health...

... although I don't think I'll ever be a size 2!

This is Why I Don't Do Diets

2012-01-06T15:00:00.000-07:00

The best-laid schemes o' mice an' men
Gang aft agley,
An' lea'e us but grief an' pain,
For promis'd joy!
-- Robert Burns

Well, that went well.

I recall saying a little while ago that I was on a yarn diet. Does this look like someone on a yarn diet?

I think not.

So, here's what happened:

One Saturday morning, I woke up, I logged into Google+ (where I'm spending more and more of my social networking-time" and saw a post from +At Knits End that said,

ONE DAY ONLY, 25% OFF SHOPWIDE!!! I am shutting down for a week starting Monday and would love to have tons of dyeing to do over my break. I am offering this one day only, 25% off shopwide sale on google+ only.

What happened next, I am not sure. I either:

was abducted by aliens.
had my brain taken over by pixies.
had a "yarnout" (which is the yarnie's version of a blackout).

When I came to, it was ten minutes later, and I was logging out of PayPal after paying for three skeins of yarn. Whoa. Freaky.

I vowed I was finished. I knew roughly that what I'd purchased was of excellent value and quality, and I also knew roughly which of my many saved patterns I would use them for. Well, not so bad. A slight bump on the yarn diet wagon.

Ahem. So, yeah.

I mentioned in one of my recent posts about my visit with a yarn friend in Winnipeg that the yarn store we planned of visiting was closed. I was secretly relieved. I did not need any more. Nope. Not me. I can stop any time.

Except... later on in the week, after meeting with another friend for lunch, we were driving back to my parents' house, and I knew that this same yarn store was on the way home.

Nope, don't need to go, I said to myself. I'm good. I'm just going to drive on by.

We got closer... about ten minutes away. The weather is nice, I said. I could just stop in, and hubby and Rascal could go for a little walk while I just have a peek.

Five minutes closer. "How would you feel about me taking a quick stop in the yarn shop on the way home?" I said to hubby.

Then, he said the trigger words.

"I don't mind," he said.

And that's how I ended up with twelve skeins of Cascade Sport and two skeins of Briggs & Little Durasport.

Addicted. That's me.

The upside is that I know EXACTLY what I'm doing with this yarn.

The downside is I'm as weak as wet tissue on a bull's horn.

Yeah, I don't know where that saying came from, either.

Sigh.

Inspiration Mondays: What Eleven Saw

2012-01-02T21:50:00.000-07:00

Have you made any New Year's resolutions? I haven't made any this year, not because I don't believe in them, but more because the new year arrived so quickly that I didn't have time to think of any. That and I don't really feel like thinking of all the ways I'm going to change all in one go. I'm kind of glad with the way things are going right now, and I just don't want to mess with it.

Instead, I've been reflecting on what good ol' Eleven (as in twenty-eleven) brought me. Here's what I learned in the past year:

Nobody likes a sleepy grump.
We all react to situations in a similar way, but the intensity of how we react is influenced by our experiences as children.
I prefer kind and generous people over witty people. Finding someone who is both is a bonus.
I actually don't mind typing on a touch screen.
When you think you don't have anything to share, it is more likely that you don't think anyone will want to hear what you have to say. This is usually untrue.
People are more like to engage in a difficult discussion if they are approached with understanding rather than guilted into seeing your point of view.
Dogs don't care if you bought them a new bed if it doesn't have padded sides to flop their ears over (this might just apply to my dog, though).
Adventurous eating is fun, but not when you combine fudge and garlic.
It is possible to be overwhelmed by your hobbies.
It is possible to change your mind about someone who gave you a really bad first impression.
Sometimes, people do things that really hurt you, but they usually don't mean it. If they knew how much it hurt you, they would be mortified of the hurt they caused.
Acid dyeing yarn is magical.
Forgiveness is hardest when you have to forgive yourself.
Patience is hardest when you have to be patient with yourself.
When you think someone doesn't deserve your patience, it is usually because they actually need more.
Pita is very, very easy to make.
Pumice is like "lava foam."
Granite can metamorphose into gneiss.
Yoga is wonderful.
Being in good health is precious... and priceless.
Camel down makes a super soft cowl.
When the going gets easy, you might actually be going downhill.
The best yarn is the yarn coveted by others.
When in doubt, smile and nod. You look friendly and understanding, which aren't bad things to be.

That's a pretty good year's learning, of you ask me. Here's hoping that Twelve will see even better things!

Coffee and Boxing... Day

2011-12-29T17:02:00.002-07:00

Ah, holiday visits to my hometown: family, celebration, food... and more food. I've been very well-fed, and I'm going to have to do a bit of work to get back in the health saddle when I get back to reality, but I'm enjoying myself regardless.

Boxing Day was last Monday. For those that don't know, Boxing Day is a Commonwealth statutory holiday with relatively hazy origins. According to Wikipedia, it is the day when boxes of presents and goods were given to those in service positions (in boxes, presumably). It has also been said that it was the day that employers changed places with their employees (I can't see that happening anytime soon). Nowadays, it's the day when people get up at ungodly hours to go out and get a fantastic deal at the shops. The only boxes involved would be those with new shoes inside, or TVs, or some other such item. From I heard on the news, it's starting to be a bit mad like Black Friday in the United States, with people getting into fisticuffs in parking lots. Perhaps Boxing Day is becoming a better name for this day...

But not for me. There's nothing I want THAT badly, and I'm just way too lazy to get out of bed to spend the day in a hot mall with grumpy shoppers all trying to get stuff that I don't really want.

Instead, I made a date with Linette, my Winnipeg knit-buddy that I met up with last year. We were to meet up for coffee, and perhaps a bit o' yarn shopping. Coffee, knitting, yarn? That's a way better proposition to me.

So, I took the bus downtown and met at ye olde coffee shoppe with Linette, who happened to be sitting in exactly the same spot we sat in last year, in the comfy chairs by the fireplace. "Wow, I can't believe we got the same spot," I said.

"They obviously knew we needed it for our yearly tradition," she said. "Now that we've met twice for this, we can call it a tradition now."

This is a tradition I'm happy that we created, because it's always so nice to sit down with another yarnie and talk about yarnie-things... stitch counters, knitting socks, lace, bobbles (and "sad bobbles"), buttons, sewing... and other crafty things... and cooking... and bathrooms... and Kitchen Aid Mixers.

After a while, Linette produced the following item, over which I positively squealed. Seriously. I squeaked like a mouse and sighed like kettle over it:

Is that not the coolest thing you ever did see? Apparently, these have been circulating on Ravelry, but I was totally ignorant of the fact that such a thing could be made. And it's perfect. And I'm so chuffed to have one of my own. Thanks, Linette!

Unfortunately, we discovered the LYS in Winnipeg were closed on Boxing Day. Maybe that's a good thing. Could you imagine the crowd of anxious shoppers outside those doors? Instead, we wandered down to The Bay and wandered around a while. I picked up a few bits and bobs that I liked, and on the way out, we spied this:

What is hilarious is that we both were way more attracted to the box than we were about the makeup (though, it will come in handy since I am slowly replacing all my makeup for fresher stuff). The trays in the lower half can be removed, and if I use a craft knife, I could carve the spaces in the foam above were the pencils are to be a bit longer, then I can put some drawing pencils, sketchbooks and art supplies in it for easy transport. Nice huh?

And I didn't even have to get in line to buy it.

So, that was my Boxing Day: relaxed and chill, with knitchat, coffee, good company AND a box!

Ha! Now THAT'S why they call it Boxing Day!

Inspiration Mondays on a Tuesday: Cuteness is Crucial

2011-12-27T17:08:00.002-07:00

Sometimes, I'm teased for loving the cute stuff. Puppies, kittens, bunnies, baby bears... anything with big eyes or fluffy fur, I'm there. A day without cute things is a day wasted, in my opinion.

And what of it? For example, here are some photos I took of Rascal when he met a group of Shih Tzus during a walk today. And they were all wearing mittens. Shih Tzus wearing mittens? Come on! That's cute!

There's no deep conversation or serious issues in this post today: just the fact that, when you find something that makes you smile, you have a right to keep those things close to you, no matter what anyone says.

Take it from him. He's a serious dude.

Aaaaand it's upside-down...

2011-12-21T17:55:00.000-07:00

What do they say about the best-laid plans?

I thought I would rush home at lunch today to take some photos of this cowl I finished the other day. I'm quite proud of it, because it's the first project I've ever knitted from some of my own handspun yarn. This is the yarn I spun from camel down with my takhli spindle a few months ago. I used Susanna IC's Nougat pattern - simple and quick. Since my yarn was a heavier weight than that called for in the pattern, I reduced the number of stitches and went up a needle size. Three days later, I had this soft, pretty cowl.

Except, I wore it upside-down for these photos. I guess that explains why I was having trouble keeping it up on my face.

Oh well. At least I got to wear my vintage fedora hat for something.

I inadvertently took advantage for the lack of elasticity in camel yarn by using a little more ribbing than originally listed in the pattern, and with a good wash with shampoo and rinse with conditioner, I had a super-soft finished object.

So, if you stand on your head, you get the full effect. Have fun doing that... and send photos of you doing it, if you choose to give it a try!

Inspiration Mondays: Inches Count

2011-12-19T20:28:00.003-07:00

My pants fit. Yes, they do.

Since I started exercising more regularly in the evenings (as you can read about in my other blog), I've tried to do a little bit of activity every day. This is above and beyond the daily dog walk and my regular swimming schedule. And it's not always an all-out workout. Sometimes, it's a 20-minute yoga session. Sometimes, it's an hour-long cardio workout. Sometimes, it's a chapter of one of my belly dancing DVDs.

And I never, ever guilt myself for missing a night. I just know I'll do something the next day. And I never punish myself with a hard workout just because I missed a night. Something is better than nothing. I inch my way forward, and if I get swept back, I don't try to gain lost ground. I just try for another inch tomorrow.

I'm saying this because we're on the home stretch before the holiday chaos this week. I know many people are frantically trying to get all the things on their lists finished, trying to find the perfect gifts, trying to cook all the food and to remember all the relatives. And some people are totally and utterly stressed out right now with it all.

My mother is really good at dealing with a big task: she does things a little at a time. She does a couple of jobs a day until they are all done. Our house is the house upon which all the friends and relatives descend (I think there were 24 people in the living room last year), and we never, ever run out of food or presents. And it's because she's so good at doing a little at a time, even if it's a last-minute task. And if something doesn't pan out, well... so what?

I hope that everyone out there remembers the age old saying, "It's the thought that counts," and that they are all pleased enough to be around their friends and family, even if things don't turn out to be the picture postcard perfection they hope for. In reality, perfection comes from intention, not from obsession. Try a little at a time, and be ok if it's not what you planned.

That's how I got my pants to fit.

For Dramatic Poses Only

2011-12-17T18:36:00.000-07:00

Drama is action, sir, and not confounded philosophy. - Luigi Pirandello

How often do you get the "paralysis by analysis" syndrome? You know, when you overthink how to do things to the point that nothing gets done? It's my pet peeve... talking, without saying anything, discussion, without ever reaching a conclusion.

My own brain got in the way of getting photos of this shawl until today. I'd been spending a lot of time trying to think of some new way to take my photos. I thought, I should do an outdoor shot for a change. I could rig my tripod and camera, wear my new coat, pose in front of the shrubbery.... What will I do if it's cold? How will I check the shots? Should I let Rascal come out with me? Can I get him to pose?

Well, it turns out that simple is best. Just do it. Quit talking, Adriene... let the shawl do it for you.

So, here, finally, after months of work and after putting it aside to work on other things, here is my Sugar Snap Shawl made with Lorna's Laces Helen's Lace Multi, 50% wool, 50% silk. Finished size is about 7 feet long and about 24 inches wide.I am very, very happy with it. I never dreamed it would be so beautiful, like carved wood batik stamps.

Of course, I did have to try something different. I tried taking photos in the bedroom, hair freshly washed, shiny earrings, dramatic pose:

Hey, it kinda worked. I like wearing it, but... what if it only looks good in dramatic poses like this?

Man, something tells me I'm gonna have a sore neck for the next few days...

Puppy Added for Scale

2011-12-15T18:25:00.001-07:00

A small Christmas miracle: I finished knitting my Sugar Snap Shawl. Man, this thing is epic. And it's huge. If you don't believe me, check it out:

I think it's time to move on to something smaller and less time-consuming... like a sweater! Ha!

Inspiration Mondays: A Bit of Clarity

2011-12-12T18:49:00.004-07:00

I'm a worrier. There's no point talking me out of it. I worry. Sometimes, I feel like, if there's a problem that needs solving, I NEED TO WORRY ABOUT IT EVERY MOMENT OF THE DAY UNTIL I CAN FIX IT.

That, of course, is totally ridiculous. Worry never solved a problem, nor did it ever bring about a creative thought. It just brings about anxiety and poor sleep, and it drives away good thoughts and good friends. Maybe it's good for bringing attention to problems, but it certainly doesn't do anything about it.

I had a weird Sunday yesterday. I had a night full of nightmares about work... the same horrible things going wrong, getting worse all the time... and I woke up feeling horrible. Then, I worried. I made lists in my head of things that were wrong, things that needed work, things I needed to fix. Then, I dwelt on them. Then, I started to worry about what others thought about my ability to fix these things.

Then, I ate a bunch of fudge. Sigh.

This morning, everything came clear, and all was well, just as it always is. It's strange how easy it can be to lose perspective when you are a worrier.

There's no use telling a worrier not to worry. It does help, though, to say, "Things will be better in the morning."

As I drove along to an appointment today, I looked at the landscape around me. There was a slight fog, a little bit of blowing snow. Unclear. Vague.

And then, the sun came out, and there was clarity, and perspective. And it was beautiful.

I'm practicing perspective and reaching clarity. Today, I was reminded that it is possible, and that, when you allow your mind to be clear, you can see beautiful things.

How sad it would be if I'd missed out on it today.

Alpaca Injection

2011-12-11T16:46:00.007-07:00

I'm struggling to find some enthusiasm for everything right now, especially my knitting. Perhaps it's the dark evenings. Perhaps it's the hectic days at work. Perhaps it's because I've had a project hanging around on the backburner for months now. I looked at this sight on my dining table today and sighed. Birthday. Christmas decorations. Then bills.

Maybe I need a change of scenery.

We have our yearly holiday to L.A. booked for January, but I need a little something to pep me up until then. Given that I live in Canada, I can't necessarily count on the sunshine to bring me around right now, so I need to find something to inject a bit of life into me. A glass of wine? A bit o' chocolate? Another nap?

How about a bit of alpaca and silk?

OH YEAH, that's the stuff.

This bag has been sitting in my stash since last summer, and it deserves a bit of love. I'm going to spin it with one of the Golding spindles my hubby got me for my birthday this year. I have 100g of it to play with, so if I spin it fine enough, I might get a decent 2-ply skein out of it.

And no, I have no idea what I'll knit with it. The sad thing is that I haven't knit a single thing out of my handspun yet. You'd think with all these dark, cold evenings, I would've knit up every single skein in my house. Nope, sadly not. I just don't seem to have the energy.

Ah well. Maybe this will give me a bit of spring in my step and a bit of tingle in my fingers. At the very least, it will create just the right about of yarn envy in my friends.

Hehe, yeah... that just put a big smile on my face.

Inspiration Mondays: The Old Stuff is the Good Stuff

2011-12-05T19:30:00.002-07:00

Yesterday morning, I opened my Twitter feed and found this post from @ilovetypography:

To anyone who suggests that digital is more permanent: try opening some files on an old floppy disc; then open a 500-year-old book.

People who know me well know that I am a lover of all things traditional and old-fashioned. "Vintage" is the trendy word for it right now. Old stuff. Stuff from before.

Yeah, I know... there are plenty of really good new things out there: smartphones (which I don't have), computers (of which we have plenty in our home), running water (a necessity for me), central heating (this is Canada, for heaven's sake)...

But I love learning about the past... Sense and Sensibility directed by Ang Lee is one of my favourite movies. And I don't just love Edwardian times. I love visiting historical parks. I enjoy rummaging through antique and second-hand shops. I once volunteered to do some research in the microfiche of old newspapers and was delighted to spend hours reading each and every word.

And yet, I'm not a historian. I don't know the dates of wars or all of the most meaningful events of the Western world. I can barely remember what I did last week.

It is not surprising, then, that I have recently become interested in the world of vintage goods. I think it started when I started looking for spindles, and discovered that there are some that have been recovered from old Industrial Age buildings and so forth. Since then, I've spent countless hours scouring Etsy looking at lots of delightful stuff from ye olde tymes. That's how I found this wonderful fedora hat from The Dapper Apple. I'd been looking for one for a while, and this one even fits my gigantic melon of a head.

I've also become increasingly obsessed with teacups and cafe au lait bowls. I could easily spend a small fortune shipping them from across the pond (but that fortune does not exist, sadly). A recent trip to the local charity shop brought me this little sweetie: a Noritake cup from Japan. My apologies for the blurry photo, but the kettle was boiling and I wanted to have a cuppa with it.

I'm not only interested in the genuine articles, but in vintage-themed items as well. Here is a poster from the world-famous Aaron Wood (i.e. justonescarf on Ravelry, where he is known by practically everyone). It's called The Social Media Propaganda Poster, created in the style of propaganda posters from the WWI era. His Etsy shop is full of fantastic offerings of a similar style.

During our trip in September to several US National Parks, I picked up these postcards, which are also of a similar style. They make me think of the old school screen printing techniques when you had a limited number of swipes on the screen to get the message across. I'm hoping I'll figure out a way to display these things sometime. Any ideas are welcome!

And... the pièce de résistance: this beautiful train case from the 1960s that I purchased from Merker Ferker that arrived in the mail on Thursday. I'd been thinking about purchasing one for a long time, but old ones in good condition are tough to find. As soon as I saw this beauty, I knew I had to have it. It is in splendid shape, and boy, is this thing solid! It's true when they say they just don't make things like this any more. When I compare it to the luggage I bought a couple of years ago, I know for sure that this case will outlive those pieces.

So, what's the attraction? Why not buy things brand new, for much cheaper and with much less trouble? Why not go for the slick modern style, all chrome, covered in apples or androids and shiny cases?

Well, I do buy those things sometimes. It's just that some things are worth the trouble.

I think it's because I like the idea of things having a story. That a hat has been around the world. Or a cup has been used to serve tea to a lover. Or that a necklace was worn to a ball, a poster has inspired people to action, or a postcard caused someone to dream of another world. I feel humbled to have a piece of that history in my hands, and that it will have my history as well. I feel like I've added my own little smudge to something that will endure. Even Aaron's Propaganda Posters give you a little thrill from a time when nations banded together behind a common cause.

That's a pretty neat feeling.

And you can't deny that it's a perfect way to recycle. Instead of purchasing something brand-new that has been cranked out from a factory, you can give life to something that would have otherwise ended up in a landfill. And you can see for yourself the enduring value of good craftsmanship.

This is probably why I love to knit and crochet so much. These hobbies make me part of history, a person living a little piece of the past in every stitch. In my own mind, I feel like I've joined myself to my fellow human beings, grasping one hand onto the past and the other hand forward with my own yarn innovations. A human scaffold...

This is the part where Elton John sings, "The circle of liiiiiiiiife..."

It's worth asking, though: What do you do with these things? Are they just gathering dust on a shelf somewhere?

Well, the hat has been worn a few times, and I plan to wear it when the weather gets better. I've had three cups of tea in the cup since I brought it home last week. The poster has been the envy of all my fellow social media geeks. The postcards are either going to go to friends or will be framed and hung on a wall.

And the train case?

Well, what else would I use it for?

And Then I Fell Asleep

2011-12-03T18:32:00.007-07:00

Here were my plans for today:

Walk the dog
Pick up a few groceries
Make some chocolate truffles
Photograph my latest project
Write a blog post

It started off well. I had a nice sleep in this morning - not too late, not too early. I did some yoga, then made myself some oatmeal for breakfast. I schlepped around in sweat pants while I looked at my chocolate truffle recipe to make sure I had everything. Eventually, I got changed and we headed out to run some errands.

We got back at around noon, and I started making my truffles. The ganache needed some time to set, so I put a lid on the bowl and set it outside in the snow (large deep freeze, just outside my door). Then, I decided that I would head down into the basement, pop in a workout DVD and get some exercise. Yay me.

An hour later, I emerged, panting and sweating. I headed for the shower, then slurped down the soup the hubby made for lunch. After that, I dove headlong into truffle-making. Yay me.

That's when things started going wrong.

I burned some chocolate. I discovered that, despite buying extra chocolate, I was going to run out. I was starting to get chocolate every where. I was tired from my workout. I was starting to get grumpy and snap at the hubby. It was getting warmer outside, and my extra large deep freeze just outside my door was not as efficient as I'd hoped.

I put one set of the truffles in the freezer and put the bowl into the fridge and decided I'd have a rest. I sat on the couch, picked up the laptop and started surfing the net for truffle molds, as I do every year when I make these darn things.

Then, I fell asleep.

When I awoke, the daylight had disappeared, Rascal was curled up at my feet, and my slightly damp hair had dried with one side pushed upward like I'd walked through a windstorm with my right side against a wall. Hmm... I guess I'm not taking photos today, I said to myself.

I sat on the couch for a while, feeling a little grumpy because I'd wasted half the afternoon sleeping, but I decided that, darn it, I was going to try taking these photos anyway.

I busted out the hair straighteners and repaired my weird-looking head. I put on a dress, a pair of earrings and matching necklace. I even wore the appropriate foundation garments. I rigged lights, tripods and timers. I worked at it, people. The only thing I drew the line at was putting on any makeup, because I really, really didn't feel like taking it off again this evening.

So here it is: a bolero made from two skeins of Cascade Ultra Pima in silver with a handsewn ruffle made from satin ribbon. I pressed the ribbon into pleats using a warm iron with a damp tea towel in-between. The back lace panel blocked nicely, and the whole thing is hanging beautifully.

There is one teensy, weensy error on this thing, but I refuse to tell you where it is. Suffice to say that I am not going to bother fixing it, because it would entail much ripping out of stitches, and lots of blood, sweat and tears. Apart from that, I am very, very happy with it.

What you can't see is that I'm actually still wearing my sweat pants underneath this dress. And what of it? Maybe that's the look I'm going for. Maybe that was the purpose of this whole endeavour.

Or maybe I just wanted to get back to lounging on the couch. It is my weekend, after all...

Inspiration Mondays: Living beyond limits... but not alone

2011-11-28T18:07:00.002-07:00

I was fortunate to find this talk posted yesterday on the TED website:

I feel the need to add a few things after watching this:

While it is inspirational to see how a young woman like this has overcome such immense obstacles, I think it's worth mentioning that western society seems to think that the main goal is to fight through life, to laugh at difficulties and to charge through no matter what. Yes, this is important. Don't give up and all that.

However, I think it's also important to note that we should not expect that we should have to face the world on all our own. I've been doing a lot of thinking recently about the will to live, and the way that we face the darkness in our lives. Lonely people, or rather, people who choose to be alone, have a tougher time choosing life. This woman had a wonderful circle of people around her that supported her through it all... and therefore, she could choose life.

I am trying my best to reach out to lonely people, not to solve their problems, but to be there to say that I understand that things are difficult. Sometimes, that's all people need to hear... no plans for improvement, no advice to make things better, no blame games... just that yes, we understand. Sometimes, that's enough for people to choose life.

In this fix-it-all world, sometimes the best fix is to share yourself. That's all.

The Trouble with November

2011-11-27T18:50:00.007-07:00

If there was ever a month that needed an extension, it's November. I swear this month flies by way faster than any other month. Would someone please flip the hourglass and give me a break?

My birthday was this month, and it seems like, the older I get, the less time I get to anticipate and enjoy it. November is the busiest month of the year at work for me, and it's also when everyone starts running around trying to get holiday projects started, planning events, and attending events.

And, darn it, it's when the darkness sets in.

For someone like me, that thrives in natural light, that prefers all her photos taken in natural light, it makes for an incredibly small window to get anything done. I feel like I'm constantly in artificial light, punctuated by periods of darkness. It's funny... even though I'm still technically getting the same number of hours to do things, I just can't seem to muster the energy to do them. It's a tiring, depressing time.

Today, I wanted to take some photos of the bolero I've been working on, and I really wanted some natural light to do it. I was foiled by a headache that descended on me this morning and that stuck around until this evening. I couldn't really knit, because looking down was making me nauseous, so I decided to try out my mini muffin tray instead. (I know, it's weird... but baking during my headache always seems to help me. It's better than sleeping.)

After doing lots of stretching and getting a massage from my kind husband, I finally felt well enough to take some photos, but by that time, the daylight was long gone. Hopefully, these photos aren't too hideous, but they'll have to do. This one is the back of the bolero before blocking:

And here it is all pinned out for blocking.

I plan to make a ruffle around the edges and the sleeves with some 1 1/2 inch silver satin ribbon. I'm going to sew it onto the thinner ribbon in pleats, then sew the thinner ribbon to the edges. I have no idea if it'll work, but that's the plan anyway.

The thing is, even though I'm rather proud of myself for knitting that bolero in a week, I know that, with that ruffle left to make, it's all just beginning. I'm hoping that I'll find some more energy this week to make it happen. I think I'll have to make sure I get outside at lunch hour and see some daylight, otherwise this is going to be another very long week.

And December is just around the corner. Sheesh... when is it gonna be summer again?

Inspiration Mondays on a Tuesday: Thinking about Maeve

2011-11-22T21:38:00.005-07:00

I'm late again this week... but better late than never.

I've told many of my friends of a teacher with whom I had the privilege of working. Her name was Maeve, and she was a teacher in one of the neighbourhoods in Belfast that was regularly hit by sectarian troubles. I met her when I took a short term position teaching Primary 2 in an all-girls Catholic school. She taught the other class of girls the same age, and we did all of our planning together.

We quickly struck up a great friendship. She had great ideas and had a wonderful way of putting me at ease in a new position. She had been teaching for many, many more years than I, but she was still as eager a learner as any of her students.

Rather than taking on the traditional Belfast teacher's way of order and regiment, she had a way of listening to her students that inspired them to follow her every move and her every whim. When someone asked a question, she always stopped to listen, and then invited the others to ponder the answer. She was like a teacher in a fairy world... she spoke, and the children listened in wonder. We were working on a unit about minibeasts: the little creatures that we find under rocks and under leaves in the garden. I would often glance up and find her outside with her girls in the schoolyard, finding every single rock and looking underneath them (which was a tough thing to do in a paved courtyard). We always joined in.

One day, her class got into a discussion about spirals. The girls noticed that the snails they had collected and that were living in a tank in the classroom had a spiral shape to their snails. "Spiders make their webs like that," one said.

"That's right," Maeve said. "I wonder... what else around us is made in a spiral?"

They came up with lots of things: jellyrolls, haircurls, even galaxies. They also noted that the spiral is used in many ancient Irish hieroglyphs. The discussion went on for days. One day, a girl from her class knocked on my door, walked in and handed me a note. "You could peel an orange in a spiral!" it said in blue crayon, written in Maeve's writing.

Of course you could.

I miss Maeve. I'm ashamed to say that, after my post finished, I lost contact with her. It was like I'd stepped out of the fairy world, I couldn't find my way back in. It felt strange to try to seek her out, and the longer I waited, the more awkward it became.

I think that Maeve inspired me to slow down and to really delight in working with others, especially children. I've learned to try to listen as carefully as possible, and to value everything they tell me. One of the reasons I left teaching in a classroom was because I felt like there was never any time to listen... always rushing, always marking, always keeping on curriculum. But no listening. No pondering.

Maybe someday I'll be like her. I'll find my way back into that fairy world and be able to wander through, delighting in all around and using every single brain cell in my head, every single one of my senses. She can't be the only one in the world like her.

But she is one in a million... in a spiral galaxy of millions...

The P.O.P. Formula

2011-11-20T19:04:00.009-07:00

Warning: I'm going to be talking about physics today. You will not require a degree to read this post, but It seemed fair to give advance warning. Definitions used are from thefreedictionary.com.

Definition: Infinity

The quality or condition of being infinite.
Unbounded space, time or quantity.
An indefinitely large number or amount.
The amount of time it takes for Adriene to knit a project.

Perhaps that last definition is yet to be recognized by any respectable dictionary, but at the rate I'm going, it's really only a matter of time.

I've been dragging my feet with my knitting lately. I usually spend a good chunk of each evening working on my current project, but I spent most of my evenings last week having bubble baths, scrubbing my feet, surfing the web, and drinking tea. Those aren't such bad things to be doing, but considering that I've been working on my current project for almost twelve weeks (including the time I put it down to work on other things), this kind of activity can only be described as procrastination.

Definition: Procrastination

v. To put off doing something, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness.
n. Adriene's way of life.

Sad, but true.

This situation improved somewhat yesterday when I got out some clothes to try on for a fancy event I was attending that evening. I don't get many opportunities to wear "the good clothes," so it's always a lot of fun to pull them out and admire them. I managed to figure out three different outfits: one for last evening's event, and two more for events that are coming up... except one of the outfits I wanted to wear for a future event was a dress that has little cap sleeves.

I hate my arms. I'm working on trying to remedy that situation with daily exercise and healthy eating, but my arms are well... enormous. There's no talking me out of it. Elbow-length sleeves or longer, that's my style. But this dress is one that I bought years ago when I lived in London. It was a splurge purchase just after I got a job and started making sterling pounds. It was a lot of money for me back then, but I loved it.

But I've only worn it once.

So, I decided that I could wear a bolero cardigan over top. I only have one such item of clothing, and it's black. It just wouldn't work with this lilac-coloured dress. Silver would be perfect, I said to myself.

My mind immediately went to two skeins of Cascade Ultra Pima I purchased last summer. They would be perfect... but only two skeins? Could I pull it off?

Definition: Obsession

The domination of one's thoughts or feelings by a persistent idea, image, desire, etc.
The idea, image, desire, feeling, etc., itself.
The state of being obsessed.
The act of obsession.
How Adriene spent her Sunday.

I spent all day today thinking of ways that I could make this project work. I took out all my yarn (and that's a lotta yarn) and looked through it to see if there was anything else I had that would work. It was a good thing to do. While doing so, I managed to tidy up and organize all my skeins into one space (mostly) and used the box that my spindles were gifted in to store some of my smaller balls of yarn and my spindles. Nice, huh?

Definition: Productivity

The quality of being productive.
The rate at which goods or services are produced especially output per unit of labor.
What happens when Adriene gets herself organized.

I decided that there was nothing for it: I am going to make this project work if it kills me. I've since spent time this evening swatching and counting stitches and looking through pictures and patterns for inspiration. I think I can do this. The only question is: Can I get it done in time?

This is where the physics comes in.

When I am in a state of procrastination:

Productivity = 0
Time spent on projects = infinity

When I am in a state of obsession:

Productivity > (is greater than) 0
Time spent on projects < (is less than) infinity

Therefore, if I keep at it, I think I can get this done in time. I've got just about three weeks to finish it. I've wound the yarn, made my swatch, checked my gauge. It's go time.

That's the P.O.P. Formula: procrastination, obsession, productivity, as it pertains to knitting and Adriene.

Somebody write this down. It's important physics. Watch out, Stephen Hawking. You're gonna need to spend some good brain time on this.

Turning Thirty-Mumble-Mumble-Mumble

2011-11-17T19:39:00.006-07:00

It's my birthday today. I turned thirty-mumble-mumble-mumble. It's been a nice day. The folks at work got me with a good surprise and we ate fabulous banana cheesecake with lots of fresh berries and whipped cream. I'm not ashamed to say I inhaled it. It was good stuff...

My hubby made his world-famous mocha cake for me (If you haven't heard of it, well maybe you're not of this world). I haven't eaten any of it yet, but he had a piece while I had a nap after work today. And yes, he did ask me if he could have a piece before he did.

We went out for dinner to our favourite restaurant, a small Greek restaurant where they make their own pita, yogurt, tzatziki, hummus... it's awesome. We smell strongly of garlic right now, but that's a good thing during cold and flu season, you know. She loves our dog (we walk past the restaurant almost every day) so she usually gives us a free bit of dessert. It's good to have dog fans!

And presents? I was really lucky this year. My brother got me a pair of shoes I fell in love with last month (they haven't arrived yet, but I'm sure they'll be here soon). It's nice to have a brother that doesn't mind getting pretty shoes for you. I already have the same pair in grey, and he got me the black pair. Being a woman with large feet means that it's really only recent days that pretty shoes have been available in my size. I'm taking full advantage of that!

My mom got me a purse. She's always had really good taste in purses and handbags, and every time she gets me one, I get compliments on it from everyone I meet. This time will be no different. Such a pretty colour! I think I'm going to use it as my spindle bag...

... because hubby got me a Golding spindle! I actually got two because, when I asked him for it, we figured it would be cheaper to get another one to combine the shipping because it was the same for any number of spindles from them. I can't remember which one he actually paid for, but I don't care. I took one of them for a test drive with some wool/silk pencil roving this afternoon, and man, do these things spin! They go and go and go... totally cool. These really are the Rolls Royce of spindles, and I'm so proud to actually have them.

I think I might treat myself to a bubble bath and foot scrub tonight and head to bed early. This is usually such a busy time of year for me that I'm usually either sick with a cold or too busy to enjoy my birthday, but it seems to have worked out well this year. I'm grateful for the well wishes from all my friends and family and for another year of life. It's been a while since I felt that way.

So, bath and bed... and maybe I'll dream of all the pretty things I'll spin with my trusty spindles and spinning bag...

Inspiration Mondays on a Tuesday: The Thing You Need to Hear

2011-11-15T18:37:00.003-07:00

This one is going to be short and sweet because I'm already one day late, and I'm quite tired tonight.

Keep this message and put it in your pocket. Take it out when you need it. Give it to a friend when they are having a hard time. Sometimes, it's not advice or a favour you need: it's just the reassurance that there will be another chance.

There's always another chance.

Eavesdropping on Yarn Gossip

2011-11-13T14:17:00.006-07:00

White yarn: So, here we are. Another Sunday on the dining table.

Green yarn: Yep.

Evilla Colour-changing yarn: How long do you think we'll have to sit here?

White yarn: I dunno. I only just got here on the table. She re-wound me last week after I sat in the basket for two years all tangled up.

Green yarn: What kind of yarn are you, anyway?

White yarn: I think I'm acrylic. I don't really know. I lived at the Salvation Army before I came here.

Evilla: Ghastly. I'm from Estonia, you know.

Green yarn: As if anyone knows where that is...

White yarn: Whoa! What happened to that guy?

Evilla: That's one of her first attempts at using the ballwinder. She wound it a bit too loosely, and she needed to stick that toilet paper roll through his guts to keep him from falling apart.

Green yarn: Gross. I think I'm gonna be sick.

White yarn: You do look a little green... *snicker*

Green yarn: She looks kinda rough.

White yarn: She came with me. She's also from the Salvation Army. We don't know what she is or where she's from. We call her Amnesia.

Evilla: Poor thing. No pedigree. Just a mutt of a yarn.

Green yarn: I wouldn't say that. You never know. She might end up being a real gem of a yarn.

Evilla: Pah! Such a low-grade thing, unlike me. I am from Estonia, you know.

Green and white yarn: We know...

Green yarn: Who is that?

Evillia: That's that fancy silk blend she got a couple of years ago at Olds Fibre Festival. She hasn't even been wound yet.

White yarn: I bet she uses her before me. I saw her walking around with her the other day.

Green yarn: That seems fair. I think she's been here since before us.

Evilla: No! I was here first! And I have much more yardage and have been sitting here wound in a cake for a much longer time than her! I am tired of being put aside and forgotten here on the dining table!

White yarn: You know, you're right. We should do something about this. We should try to get her attention... make her notice us! Shake her up a bit!

Green yarn: Uh, guys?

Evilla and white yarn: What?

Green yarn: None of us have arms or legs. How are we going to do this?

[Silence]

White yarn: You and your dumb ideas, Evilla.

Evilla: How dare you talk to me like that! I am from...

Green and white yarn: We KNOW!

[END]

Inspiration Mondays: Betcha Never Thought of This One

2011-11-07T20:17:00.003-07:00

This video put a huge smile on my face today. I actually laughed in sheer delight.

I loved it so much for these reasons:

It's awesome.
When I think of ukeleles, I usually think of Hawaiian guys in floral shirts and Mai Tais.
It takes an idea and totally turns it on its head.

These days, I feel like so many people think they've seen it all, and they have all these pre-conceived ideas of things. "I know what that's going to be like, and I know it's going to be terrible." Where have all the open minds gone? Why all the assumptions, folks?

When you see me sitting on a park bench with my knitting needles, what do you assume? That I'm a dull, unmarried spinster with no life and nothing interesting to say?

If I'd let my assumptions about ukeleles and the people who play them get in the way tonight, then I would have never seen this.

What a shame that would have been.

New Video: Cables for Beginners

2011-11-06T19:39:00.001-07:00

Inspiration Mondays: A Little Wonky is Nice

2011-10-31T22:08:00.005-06:00

In everything... uniformity is undesirable. Leaving something incomplete makes it interesting, and gives one the feeling that there is room for growth... Even when building the imperial palace, they always leave one place unfinished. -- Japanese Essays in Idleness, 14th Century

Here's a question for you: When you put birthday candles into a cake, do you just throw them in willy-nilly, or do you prefer to put them in so that they are symmetrical? Six years old - three candles one each side. Seven years old - three candles on each side, one in the middle. Do you put them in in a circle? In a zig-zag?

Or do you do as I do and just get a candle that says, "7?"

I've never been one for symmetry. It's only recently that my job forces me to align to certain design principles, which I totally understand, but it beats against the insides of my brain like a mallet on the inside of an oil drum. It's not me. I don't care for it.

That might be surprising, given the fact that I love to knit cables and lace. Most of these patterns rely on symmetry to give them balance. I love the complexity of the lines, and how it forces the yarn into different shapes and to throw the light in different directions.

But if there's anything that bugs me, it's the feeling that something is contrived... that it is forced into perfection somehow.

For example, here are some mosaics I made a few years ago in a class. It took me hours to place those tiles in a position that I liked. I had to walk away from them for a few days before I could return to finish them. I wanted to feel like every single tile had been placed because it belonged there, and not because I forced it into a space. Nothing too symmetrical, nothing too contrived. I wanted it to look natural... as natural as a bunch of tiles could look, I guess.

When I painted these pots, I spent time making sure that each line, each petal, each dot, was in a totally random place. No mathematical equations, no rulers, no measures... just one by one, placing things where they felt right.

I don't like to centre things. I prefer them offset to one direction.

I don't like to wear my shawls draped over my shoulders evenly. I place them either slung over my left or right shoulder.

I like flicky, sticky-out hair.

I suppose this has come to mind because I've been thinking a lot about how we're supposed to find symmetry beautiful - that we like to see symmetrical faces, symmetrical bodies. Perhaps I rage against this because I know it's impossible, and I see people everywhere, girls especially, struggling toward this impossible ideal. Maybe I enjoy throwing a monkey wrench into the rules of beauty, and I like to see how people deal with it.

There is beauty in being outside of the box, in offset patterns, in imperfections. They make us feel emotions... feel reactions.

That's not so bad, is it? Is it?

What About George?

2011-10-30T17:06:00.005-06:00

Oh George, how I've neglected you. Since I saw you at Olds Fibre Week last summer, you have languished in your bag, waiting for me to come and spin you into beautiful yarn. I flirted with you for a few days, only to return you to your corner to wait until I finished so many other things...

So many other things.

I'm officially declaring publicly that I am on a yarn diet. And that includes spinning fibre, too. It's just all becoming too much.

I don't like being overloaded with stuff. It stresses me out when it all starts to take up space around me. I know it's getting bad when I have to start thinking about where else I can store my things. It's not there yet, but it's darn close.

This morning, I cleared out a bunch of fabric that was sitting in this basket and relocated it to a closet in the spare bedroom. I've replaced it with my finished shawls and scarves, and then put some more of my yarn stash on top. Then, I made up my mind that I need to work through that stuff as well. All these good intentions, but only clutter to show for it.

So, part of the yarn diet is to try to get through more of my stuff. I can either:

Quit my job and knit all day.
Grow another set of arms.
Knit less complicated projects.
Stop playing on the computer so much.

I'm guessing that the last two are my best bet.

Yarn diets are tough, especially when you have a circle of friends who are darn good at enabling you to break them. I think that the next yarn trip into the city will entail much adoration of things I could buy, but maybe more time looking at replacing some of my aluminum needles that I don't really like using anymore, and looking through patterns and projects. One does not need to spend to be happy.

But yeah, it's fun. Sigh.

Of course, if yarn happens to land in my lap as a gift, well it would be rude to refuse, right?

My birthday is coming up next month. Just sayin'...

Inspiration Mondays: Like the First Day of School

2011-10-24T22:21:00.005-06:00

"You know what that poster makes me think of?" I said to a fellow at work. I was referring to this year's Alberta Arts Days poster that was hanging on one of the office walls. "It makes me think of a really nice set of pencil crayons. You know, the ones where, when you draw with the red pencil crayon, it's really red. Not pink or orange... just red."

"Yeah," he said. "The ones that you love so much on the first day of school..."

Each day I passed it, I got thinking about those first days of school when I was so happy to have a new set of pencil crayons. I thought even further back to when I got my first set of Crayola crayons, the 64-pack with the built-in sharpener, complete with the exotic copper, silver, and gold crayons. I remember saving those colours for only the most special pictures. Not everything deserved the use of those waxy metallic beauties.

I've never really considered myself an artist. I think most of us get that drummed out of us during school when we realize that our pictures of cats/dogs/houses/cars aren't as good as the resident artistic genius. We prefer to guffah and huff when people ask us to draw things. "Oh no, I couldn't do that," we say.

When I was in university, in my final year of my Bachelor of Education, I was fortunate enough to be in a special program for Early Years Education (early years meaning kindergarten to grade 4). One of the main elements of this training was not just to teach, but to be "lifetime learners." We were to challenge ourselves all the time to do the things we were asking our students to do: write stories, play, sing, dance, run, and draw.

Draw? Hmmm... I thought to myself.

I went out and and got myself the a sketchbook, as we were all required to do. I started out tentatively, trying to draw the things around me, criticizing my every pencil stroke, every shape and line. My hand ached with the effort. I searched vainly for something interesting to put in there.

Then, something strange happened. I learned to play.

I got some watercolour paints and spent time playing with them. I was delighted by how the water took the paint and stretched it across the page. I tried restricting the water and loved how deep the colours could be.

I found some charcoal pastels and smudged my way through several drawings... some of forest scenes, some with just lines of different weights, different thicknesses. I walked around my house with black smudges on my cheeks. I started looking at plants and wondered what they would look like in my smudgy drawings.

I spent an entire afternoon looking at myself in the mirror and trying to draw a self-portrait. I learned how to draw a nose, an eye, the ridge of my brow. Then, I drew a picture of my cousin's daughter from a photograph. I was becoming a good observer of life, and how it could be depicted on paper.

Then, I graduated school and promptly stopped drawing.

Lately, I've been itching to feel the slippery feeling of oil pastels on paper, and to hear the sound of a pencil scraping a line into a drawing. My brushes and charcoals and paints had all disappeared - some gifted, some given away, some thrown out. So, I've begun to collect supplies again.

Some of them are economy brands, others aren't. Since I have no formal training whatsoever, I had no idea of what I needed, just that I wanted to explore again. I haven't done anything yet... for now, I'm just enjoying having these things in the house. I took them out tonight and looked them over, touching the colours, smudging my fingers with the charcoals, sliding brushes between my fingers.

And those pencil crayons: They were recommended to me by a friend. They're the kind that are strong enough to withstand lots of sharpening, and that don't fall to bits each time you do. I'm loving them so far...

They're like the ones I loved so much on the first day of school. Ah, yes... those ones...

Mission Ballwinder: Report from the Front

2011-10-22T20:39:00.007-06:00

Mission: Ballwinder
Report by: Agent Yarn Smoosher

Monday 1800: After reconnaissance mission the week before, Agent Yarn Smoosher secured the location of a ballwinder in Knit n' Caboodle Yarn Shop in Canmore, Alberta. Resources: committed.

Saturday 0900 hrs: Agent left base quarters in vehicle with Agents Hubster and Wolfpup. All equipment and supplies were packed early.

0915: Scheduled stop at flooring shop. Completed by 1030hrs. Agent Wolfpup began navigation duties. Agent Yarn Smoosher operated vehicle until next scheduled stop.

1130: All agents stopped for scheduled pee break at rest stop outside of Airdire, Alberta. Agent Wolfpup requested permission to hunt squirrels in the park. Permission was denied. Wolfpup's attitude began degeneration.

1230: Scheduled food stop. Wolfpup took security post while all other agents consumed assigned Arby's and Greek food.

1345: All agents arrived in Canmore. Vehicle was parked at agreed upon location and all agents exited. Wolfpup began scentmarking procedures while Yarn Smoosher proceeded to target location. Hubster accompanied Wolfpup on his mission.

1400: Ballwinder located in target location. Mission was almost compromised by several obstacles of fibrey nature. Both outside agents temporarily lost contact with Yarn Smoosher.

1420: Ballwinder secured after intense negotiations with Secret Agent Yarn Hoarder aka Yarn Smoosher's alter ego. Yarn Hoarder released the ballwinder after Smoosher agreed to take home three skeins of Shi Bui sock yarn in Mulberry colourway.

1421: Mission almost compromised again by unforeseen complication: Yarn Smoosher was awarded a free $20 gift certificate as a result of random selection. Yarn Smoosher was released from the premises after agreeing to take home one skein of Bohoyarns Fingering Weight Yarn in Fraggle colourway.

1425: Agent Wolfpup was awarded with a new squeaky toy and chicken treats from the Mut Hut Pet Shop for completing a successful scent marking exercise. Agent Hubster was awarded with a cup of tea for supervision of Wolfpup's activities.

1515: All agents proceeded to next locations: bank machine and art supply store. Wolfpup was not scheduled to assist in either activities and attempted to thwart the main mission by trying to destroy the target ballwinder and one skein of yarn. Attempt was unsuccessful, but damage was detected on some packaging. Wolfpup received reprimand from Agent Yarn Smoosher and was sent to the backseat for the remainder of the mission.

1545: All agents arrived at assigned rest location. Ballwinder is tested and works perfectly. Agent Yarn Smoosher takes photographic evidence of the successful mission.

1600: Agent Yarn Smoosher revokes Wolfpup's reprimand and awards him with several cuddles. After several attempts to photograph Wolfpup's cuteness, Yarn Smoosher resigns to sharing this photo of the agent in another cute position.

Mission successful. Report submitted for approval: 10/22/2011

Inspiration Mondays: So, I'm Supposed to Be Writing...

2011-10-17T21:21:00.004-06:00

You can't wait for inspiration, you have to go after it with a club. - Jack London

Sooo... what to talk about today.... *cricket, cricket... tick, tock...*

I'm afraid I didn't really have much to inspire me today, and yet I feel the need to address that situation.

Or, maybe I just like to hear myself think. One of the two.

Instead of forcing out some great profundity to share, I thought I'd just share a list of things that have been making me think, catching my eyes, making me tilt my head like a puppy:

Items that are dark and deep in colour. The trendy term for it is "jewel toned."
Watching an elderly person going for a walk, either with a cane or walking frame.
Small kindnesses, like a smile or a "thank you."
Someone telling me what the radio says about what this winter will be like. (How do they know?)
Seeing a photograph so fascinating that my eyes reach for the edge of the magazine, screen, or picture frame, hoping that there will be more.
Feeling how different fibres affect the skin of my hands, especially how working with acrylic is drying mine out.
Understanding how single words can affect people.
Hearing the creak of my bad knee when crouch or bend.

I suppose that, had I taken the time tonight, I could have contemplated further on any one of these things and written something from that, but it's been a long day, and I feel grateful that I was even able to come up with that list. Perhaps it can serve as a store for future ramblings, who knows? For now, I feel satisfied that at least I looked for inspiration today, even if I went no further than looking.

At least, for now.

How to Buy a Ball of Yellow Yarn

2011-10-16T21:47:00.004-06:00

Yesterday morning, I stood waiting at my front door, Rascal standing next to me. I had my purse, my knitting bag, a bottle of water, and a couple of granola bars, my jacket on, my shoes on my feet and my Fagus shawl around my neck. I'd had a nice, warm breakfast of oatmeal and a banana. I looked out the front window, looking at the frosty grass and the sun warming the chilly air.

A couple of weeks back, my friend, Tara, informed me and dkzack that it was International Yarn Day (or something like that) on October 13 (or something like that) and that we should honour it by making a trip into the city for some yarn appreciation (or something like that).

Well, who were we to ignore a holiday like that?

So, on a frosty Saturday morning, we left town with four excited ladies (we have a new recruit, Susan), and we headed off with plans to appreciate yarn as much as possible. We thought we'd hit a few yarn shops. I had plans to get some fabric to line a the dragon hats I've been working on, as well as to find some yellow yarn to make the eyes for them. We brought projects on the needles in our bags, but mostly chatted all the way. dkzack brought a plethora of things to show us: yarn and fibre that we had not previously had the chance to fondle and sigh over. She very kindly allowed me to sit with one of her bags so that I could admire them as much as possible during the drive in.

I had to constantly remind myself that I needed to get that yellow yarn. I needed it to get this project done this week. Yellow yarn, yellow yarn, yellow yarn...

We managed to fit in visits to two yarn shops during our visit. It was interesting to note how differently the four of us perused the wares.

I like to call my style "The Traveler." I'm a yarn shopper that needs to concentrate and walk around a lot. I need to visit each shelf at least three or four times before I commit to even picking up a skein to carry around. My eyes scan the shelves carefully for anything that is begging for my attention, or for colours that fit projects that I've been yearning to make.

dkzack is "The Conflicted Artist." She finds colours and carries them around, trying to plan out what she'll do with them, her love of the yarn in conflict with its practical use. We often end up in discussion about which ones she should choose. My advice is often simple: "Buy it." That's usually the advice she takes!

Tara is "The Consultant." If you ask her, "What do you think of this?" she is the one helps you think it through. Would those colours work together? Does this combination deaden the richness of the colour? Is there something else that would work better? Do you think that fibre might be too warm/cool/slippery/rough? She talked me out of taking home a boring colour combo and helped inspire me to find something much better.

Our new friend, Susan is "The Collector." It's wonderful to watch her. She wanders through the store, asking lots and lots of questions, collecting armfuls of skeins of yarn, and after a while, she finds a spot to plonk herself down to sort through them. I loved watching her group them around her in piles, figuring out which would go home with her for sure, which were beautiful, but not quite right, and which ones she might have to come back for another time. Fascinating!

In the end, we came home with lots and lots of goodies. We even squeezed in a visit to a Michaels where I distributed my extra printed coupons to everyone so that we could all enjoy ourselves in there. I didn't buy any yarn there, but I did get some art supplies and felt squares (because it's impossible to find in this town), as well as some gifts for Christmas. The others brought home art canvases, kits, paintbrushes... all sorts of fun stuff. I nearly went home with some decorative Duck Tape, but restrained myself at the last moment!

It was a happy, happy day. I kept looking back at the hatch of the jeep and smiling at all the wares that were packed back there. It was soooooo nice to be in a vehicle full of art and craft and friends.

Oh, and the yellow yarn? I didn't have to buy any, because dkzack found some in her stash at home and let me have it. Yay! Way to take the responsibility out of a fun yarn day!

Man, I love my friends!

Inspiration Mondays: Don't Have to Add Anything

2011-10-10T13:33:00.001-06:00

I can't anything more to this. Please read Dave Bennett's blogpost.

Saturday and the Stew Pot

2011-10-08T13:03:00.007-06:00

Behold: my new slow cooker. 8 quarts of slow heating goodness. It came home with me this morning from the local Canadian Tire store.

Just last night, I remarked to my friend, Dawg, "Man, I love Canadian Tire. I could spend all day in there." And it's true. If you want a deal, you're gonna find it in that store.

When I got home from work yesterday, I plonked myself down on the couch and started leafing through the Canadian Tire flyer. Such wild Friday night antics often occur in my house, and usually you hear phrases uttered like, "Oh, that's cheap" and "Hmm, I wonder what that's like" as a result. I came across the ad for this slow cooker. It was on sale for $29.99.

"Oh, that's cheap," I said aloud to Rascal, who was lying next to me.

He snuffled, then buried his head in his paws and promptly began to snore.

I started thinking about what I would do with such a thing. I could make my famous stew and dumplings in it, I thought. That would be easier than trying to fit it all in my one pot.

Then the yarnaholic spoke up. Or, you could use it to dye a big batch of yarn, she said. 8 quarts is a lot of space.

I pondered it for a few minutes, then put the flyer away, confident that I could live without it. I wasn't sure if I had a use for it. If I still wanted it in the morning, I could easily go down and get one.

I woke up this morning, rolled over, and thought, Ok, I better go get it.

Hubby and Rascal and I got into the car to run a few errands after breakfast. They waited in the car while I went in to explore. "They probably won't have any left," I said as I shut the car door.

My heart began to beat a tiny bit faster as I walked in. I went straight over to the kitchen section and started scanning the shelves. I saw sign for another slow cooker that was also on sale, a self-timing one that held 6 quarts. The shelf was empty. Hmm. Then, another sign for another cooker that was also on special. That shelf was empty, too. Uh oh...

I walked to the end of the aisle and found them on the endcap. Hamilton Beach 8 quart slow cooker: $29.99. "Twenty-naaaaaaaaahn nahndy-nahn!" said the commercial playing in my head. There were two on the shelf. Yes...

I looked around. People were walking around behind me, browsing the shelves. I immediately felt protective of my quarry. I widened my stance. I put my hands on my hips. I pretended to be fascinated in the George Foreman Grills that were on the shelf about so that I wouldn't draw attention to my prize. Then, when everybody passed and I was left standing alone, I ~~ran quickly~~ walked purposefully over to the shopping carts. I retrieved one, then returned to the endcap and loaded a box into my cart. Sweet victory!

So, what am I gonna use it for? Well, I could either cook with it or dye yarn with it. You're not supposed to use it for both purposes, because yarn dye can be toxic, even "food safe" dyes. So, I had to decide which was more important...

Well, I couldn't decide. So, I bought two.

Don't judge me. The guy in line in front of me at the store already gave me a strange look, even after I told him that I was getting one for my friend... yeah, my friend...

My friend, the yarnaholic. Or the stew-lover. They live happily together in my head. We're all one big, happy family in there...

My Wonderland of Toothless Considerations

2011-10-06T19:16:00.006-06:00

“There is no use trying,” said Alice. “One can’t believe impossible things.” “I daresay you haven’t had much practice,” said the Queen. “When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” — Lewis Carroll

The hat bases for the Toothless the Dragon hats are finished. I'm just making tie strings for the earflaps, and then I can start putting the features on them before I line the insides with fabric. They look a little floppy at the moment, but the lining will make them more robust. So far, so good.

It's easy to psyche yourself out when you're making something without a pattern. I started out fairly confident that I could make these, then that confidence wavered a bit as I thought about what this character actually looks like. He's got four horns... does he? Or are two of those ears? What about those things on the sides of his face? Should I make those, too? And are his eyes yellow or green or... what?

In my (rare) idle moments, I've been flipping through my Amigurumi Knits book for inspiration on how to make these things look more like Toothless and less like... well, anything else. I'm torn between using the ears from the Jackelope (and turning them backwards) or the flippers from The Loch Ness Monster (and making them longer) for the "ears" of the dragon. And what kind of yarn for the eyes? I have plenty of yellow yarn from making this sweater, but it's more of a mustard yellow. Will that work?

It's these considerations that give me great pleasure. How will I make those eyes? Will I give him slitted eyes like a cat? Should I make the lining in flannel or polar fleece? Should I hand-stitch it in, or should I try my hand at machine-stitching it? There's nothing that I enjoy more than falling asleep while thinking of what I'm going to make next, or how I'm going to solve another yarn problem. Impossibilities don't have to be negative things.

The great geniuses in history (including the person whose company designed my laptop and who passed away yesterday) were ones that did just as The Queen did in Alice in Wonderland. They dreamed in impossibilities. You could call it mental exercise or brain gym... but I call it escapism, and a wonderful place to be.

Welcome to my Wonderland.

Inspiration Mondays: It's Cliché, But There You Go

2011-10-03T21:41:00.007-06:00

I try to write about unique and interesting things that make people think in these Monday posts. I don't like to go with the obvious things that are going on, like holidays or trends or things like that. I like to respond to things I've seen online or on the news, things I've heard people say or things that have been on my mind. Today, I just couldn't avoid it.

I want to write about fall. The season, not the verb.

I much prefer the term autumn, just because there's something so poetic and beautiful about that word. As a season, it has all the things I like: warm days, cool, but cozy evenings, the opportunity to wear sweaters and shawls (I knit, for heaven's sake. I need to wear these things sometime!), and the colours... man, the colours...

These are the colours that my eyes search out each time I walk into a yarn shop, a clothing store, or even an art supply store. It's deep red, forest green, purple so dark you can get lost in it, and gold, pure gold...

I was swimming at the local pool yesterday, and every time I glanced out of the windows, I was met with pure gold... leaves that seemed to glow yellow, reflecting even more light from the bright sun that was shining. I thought of the sunflowers back home in Manitoba, how they would be ready for harvest, and how much I used to love wearing sunflower patterns. It makes me think of those chilly Sunday mornings when the sun ceases to be an oppressive force to be avoided at all costs, and instead becomes a source of warmth that my doggie and I can bask in on the couch.

A quick search for the word "autumn" in Ravelry brings up some beautiful patterns, many of which already reside in my queue:

My favourite baby sweater pattern, Autumn Leaves
A beautiful hat, Autumn Vines Beret
A shawl of delicious colour, Autumn Shawl

I'm no fool. I know that winter is just around the corner and that I'll be longing for the summer heat and the long, light-filled days. Autumn seems like the shortest season of them all, but it's my season, and it is soaking into all of my pores as we speak. It's cliché, but there you go. I plan to enjoy every minute, every hour...

Oh, and you know, it also helps that this is also the season where the clocks move back an hour, and we all get another hour to sleep. Colour, shmolour, if that's not enough to like a season, what more could there be?

We'll Be Right Back After I Knit a Dragon

2011-09-29T18:13:00.006-06:00

I am now declaring that, after knitting the Sugar Snap Peas scarf for the last few weeks, I am officially taking a pea break. (*snicker snicker* Get it?) And it's none too soon. This thing is taking a looooooong time.

Seriously, this ball of yarn hasn't changed in size for three weeks. Will it ever get smaller?

I was hoping I could get it done before I started anything else, but the next project is somewhat time-sensitive. A friend of mine has asked if I would knit a couple of hats for her little boys for Halloween. Actually, it's really for the older boy, but the little one will probably want one as soon as he sees his big brother's hat. They want to dress up as Toothless from How to Train Your Dragon.

I haven't seen the movie yet (but I have the DVD sitting here on my coffee table, lent to me by the same friend). I've seen a few projects here and there based on some of the characters in the movie, especially Toothless, which appears to be an adorable dragon with the face and mannerisms of a cat. I asked my friend for a couple of hats that fit her boys well so that I could make them the right size.

These hats are both lined, so I am going to make the hats themselves the same size and line them as well, just to be sure they are warm and snug on their heads.

As for the design itself, I have a few ideas as to how to make the horns on Toothless' head. My initial thought was to make cone shapes and stuff them, but then I remembered that I own a book that specializes in horns, flippers and other dragon-like adornments: Amigurumi Knits by Hansi Singh. This is the book that helped me to make this:

So, this weekend, I plan to put the peas aside to work on a couple of dragons. I know that Halloween isn't for another month, but I'd much rather give myself time to figure things out than to scramble at the last minute. Last-minute scrambles stress me out and make me grumpy, and my friends deserve way better than that.

Nobody likes a grumpy dragon-knitter. Trust me.

Inspiration Mondays: Reaching for the Keys

2011-09-26T18:22:00.009-06:00

I woke up this morning yearning to hear this.

I love this video because:

Watching people do amazing things makes me happy.
Seeing people in their element gives me hope.
Piano music reaches something inside of me that nothing else reaches.

I played the piano regularly when I was growing up until I moved away from home. Apart from a few short stints playing the organ from time to time, I really haven't touched a piano in years. And I miss it. I really, really do.

I suppose I'm posting about this today because, for the first time in a while, I woke up this morning not dreading the week. Instead, I woke up yearning for music, and finding my fingers reaching out for invisible piano keys. And that's a plus, isn't it?

Not a bad start. Not bad at all.

And They Shall Be Called Nubbins

2011-09-23T20:26:00.003-06:00

Have you ever thought that certain words have the wrong meaning assigned to them? Take suffrage, for example. It sounds so much like suffer, yet it means something so different. I remember a comedy show that did a segment where they walked around on the street, asking women if "women's suffrage should be ended." And most of the women said, "yes!" Little did they realize they were actually calling for the end for women's right to vote.

In the same way, I feel that the word nubbin just hasn't had a fair kick at the can. Anyone who has read Margaret Atwood's pre- and post-apocalyptic novel, Oryx and Crake has heard how the word nubbin is used. It is basically the slang term for the chicken meat that people eat in the future, where chickens have been genetically engineered to be big blobby mounds of chicken breast only, and they don't even have heads or legs... just prime breast meat. Yeah, gross, huh?

On the other hand, the word nubbin has such a pleasant feel on my tongue that I can not stand the injustice of it having such a distasteful association. It nub... nub... like rub... bin... bin... buh, buh, buh... so soft on the lips...

I'm knitting away on Susan Pandorf's Sugar Snap Scarf, which is full of little "peas" made from bobbles. When I think of bobbles, I usually think of big chunky knots of yarn that bounce around on the fabric's surface. These little bobbles are small and delicate and endearing to be called by such a ruffian term. I think they deserve a better name.

Enter the nubbin. Cute. Nubbly. Nubbins.

Call the Oxford Dictionary, people. We've got a new definition.

Inspiration Mondays on a Tuesday: Same Song, Different Note

2011-09-20T20:48:00.003-06:00

I posted this video on some of my social networks yesterday, and while some of you may have already seen it, I felt the need to write about it today. I'm not going to say too much on it, because it's a recurring theme for me: book learning is not the only kind of learning, and it is certainly not the only learning that should be valued. I said it when I talked about a student of mine called Ken.

The only difference here is that this is not just the wistful musings of a teacher who left the classroom. This is actually a problem, not in one country but it many countries. I keep hearing how we are making sure all children make it to college or university, but you know what? They all don't have to be there. We need some of them to learn how to do the very trades that make our day-to-day lives possible, not because some people "aren't meant for college" but because we NEED them to do these things. I mean, maybe we don't need them... but then we should get used to not having indoor plumbing, furnaces that work, or houses that keep us warm.

Think on it, and let's start talking sense. Respect the trades, and promote them to your children. We'll all be better off for it.

When I Think of Camels...

2011-09-17T13:17:00.000-06:00

When I think about the first memory I have of a camel, I remember my brother telling me that camels had humps, and that dromedary camels are the ones that only have one hump. I think I must have been about five or six years old, and it's something that has stuck with me ever since. Isn't is strange what your brain holds onto?

I also remember singing children's songs about camels (and why does poor Alice have to lug around so many humps?).

In high school, I remember a teacher telling us about going on vacation to Egypt and describing a horrible fellow tourist that insisted on teasing a camel until it spat on him. I can still hear his voice echoing in his room as he mimicked the tourist's voice, "Agatha! Agatha! It's got in my mouth!"

And, of course, I remember the weirdest sight of a camel I'd ever seen: a camel "parked" on the side of the road in Tunisia, waiting for his rider to come out of the medina.

A memory I certainly did not have was what camel down might feel like. I imagine camels to be sort of hairy, scruffy creatures, so even when I read that you could make yarn from camel down, my brain just didn't take it in. "Hm," I said... and read on.

The disbelief that I would get anything interesting from camel down continued, even as I was learning to spin it. It was a lot of work, and it needed a lot of twist, and it looked and felt like twisty, hairy twine. I was not really that impressed by it, but I soldiered on with it because I didn't want to give up on it.

As an aside, two sandwich bags full of camel down is a bit like Mary Poppin's carpet bag. It didn't look like much, even though I had full knowledge that I'd purchased 100g of it, more than enough for a decent skein of yarn. You open them up, and the stuff just keeps coming out, like someone had gone into my spinning bag and secretly unspun it and put it back in the sandwich bag each night. Camel down messes with your head, dudes.
By the time I finished spinning all this camel down, I was well tired of it, but I decided to go ahead and ply it according to plan after all. I finished it up on Sunday evening, set the twist, et voila:

It's a beauty! I haven't measured yardage for it yet, but it's a darn good skein of yarn.

So, dromedaries, Alice, Agatha, and parked camels have brought me to this knowledge: a Mary Poppins bag of camel down makes a darn good skein of yarn. And that's it.

Not earth-shattering by any means, but now I've got something else to file into my brain to recall when I think of camels!

Words of Insanity

2011-09-13T18:59:00.003-06:00

Laceweight.
1250 yards.
Bobbles.
3.5mm needles.
Widen the pattern.
Do more repeats.
Sigh.

What in the name of Pete was I thinking???

Inspiration Mondays: No More Failures

2011-09-12T19:20:00.004-06:00

When we treat man as he is, we make him worse than he is; when we treat him as if he already were what he potentially could be, we make him what he should be.
~Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

I go home for lunch every once in a while. I don't live far from work, so on days when I just don't feel like packing a lunch (like after being away on vacation for a week, as I have been), I just make the five-minute drive home and relax for an hour with my hubby and my dog.

Today, I happened to flip on the tv and saw that Ellen was on. Today was her season premiere. There was a lady being honoured on the show today, a principal of a school in Las Vegas. She has gone to extraordinary lengths to help unlock the potential in the children in her school. Below is a clip from the show itself, which explains exactly what she does:

I was so moved after watching this. So often, we think that the problems around us are not our problem, that we can't give away so much because there will be nothing left for ourselves, and that you can't solve problems with charity. I think that way quite often myself. It's not my responsibility to look after my neighbour's children, to let them into my life, as needy for attention as they are.

Is it not?

There are days when I feel that I have so much to offer, but that I'm not being called upon to use my talents. I think that I have more to give, but when people expect less from me, I don't get the chance to give it my all. My potential is there, but because no one expects it of me, I am reluctant to offer it up. My enthusiasm withers and I feel sad and unwanted.

When I have a challenge placed before me, when someone treats me as an equal rather than as a minion, and when I am asked to use my talents freely and expressively, I feel alive. When the roadblocks of pre-conceived notions are removed and I'm given a break from clawing my way up life's steep hill, my mind is free to explore, to fly, to soar.

Sometimes, when life pushes us down to the very bottom, you can't get up. You need people to give you a break, to lift the weight from your shoulders so that you can get up and crawl forward, even if it's just a few inches. You can't always fight your way out on your own. If the people around you stop seeing you as a person who needs to "learn the ropes" and begins to see you as someone who needs a breath, it is so much easier for you to reach your potential.

And, by the way, that's not charity. That's being a good guy. Because we all need good guys in our lives every so often.

I'm not going to go next door and offer to pay rent and clothe and feed my neighbour's children. I don't think their mom would like it, and I don't think I could sustain it. But I do think that I can choose to omit words like "failure," "waster," and "lazy" from my vocabulary and begin to treat people more often as the people they have the potential to become.

Troubled teen? No. They are wise in their own way. Maybe I'll ask them what they're thinking, what they're dreaming of.

Disgruntled employee? No. They are talented in their own way. Maybe I'll ask them to help problem solve more often, and value their knowledge.

Down and out? No. Just down on luck. Maybe I'll lend a hand and find ways to lift them up a bit, so they can move forward toward their dream.

Because we all have dreams, don't we? Wouldn't it be great if we found ways every day to help people reach them? Can you imagine how great the world would be?

Painting with Stitches?

2011-09-09T17:10:00.004-06:00

I've seen some incredible scenery this week - The Grand Canyon, Bryce Canyon, Zion Canyon, Yellowstone... rocks and trees and valleys and springs and geysers and volcanoes... I snickered as we drove through Yellowstone today, and a sign appeared that said, "Wildlife exhibit ahead."

"What? Isn't this whole place a wildlife exhibit?" I exclaimed.

Where else would I see bison hanging out next to a smoking caldera?

Since I started knitting, I've noticed that I look at this scenery with different eyes. I wonder to myself, "Could I make this scene with knit stitches? Could I find colours that match, or detail the intricacies with cables and slanted stitches? Could I paint this scene in a garment?"

I'm thinking more and more that I can.

Imagine something that suggests the curving branches and ashen pine cones of the lower branches of this tree at "The Paintpots" I saw today.

Or maybe the colours of this spring in West Thumb next to Yellowstone Lake.

It's made me think back to this post I wrote in the spring. While I strained my eyes looking for elk through the trees today, I worked out a way that I might be able to make this project work. And I know I want it to be cream or white (at least I think I do... we'll see what happens). I know how I will sculpt trees with stitches and, and I know that I won't be able to do the whole thing in one piece. I know how I will sew pieces together to overlap them the way I want.

It feels good to stretch some creative muscles. I feel excited to give this a try. This is one area of my life where I feel like I have total control, no restrictions, no one holding me back or telling me that I shouldn't try. I know I can do this.

So, the next question is: Do I need to buy any yarn for this? Hmmm...

Inspiration Mondays: Maybe the Turbo Blasters Will Kick In

2011-09-05T20:59:00.006-06:00

Labour Day and we're on vacation in Kanab, Utah. We arrived here last night and got some pretty spectacular sights as we were driving in. Here is the view from our hotel window:

Kanab is a nice little town, and so far we've enjoyed good weather and good meals, and our hotel is dang nice as well. We've done our time in cheap, crappy motels, and we're glad to say that we got this one at a great price, breakfast included. I love the phrase, "breakfast included." It's almost the same as, "jackpot pending," or "free yarn."

Today, after I enjoyed my "jackpot" (biscuits and gravy, anyone?), we headed out to the infamous Grand Canyon. I'd been there as a child, but I really couldn't remember it. I have a colour photo somewhere that shows a ribbon of water sandwiched between rock above and below. I think I took it with a Kodak Ektra, or a camera of a similar shape. I must have had a viewpoint straight down to the Colorado River, pointed the camera at it, and snapped it.

I was eight. What did I know about taking pictures?

Anyway, The Grand Canyon is still truly grand, and holy cow is it ever high up. We were at 8800 feet, higher than I've been in a long time on foot. Going up slight slopes winded me immediately, and while I admit I'm not the fittest person on the planet, that is not something that would knock me down like that at home.

The only consolation is that, after spending time in this kind of elevation, my lungs will adapt. My friend, Sarah, found that going for a run after spending some time in Colorado was like having turbo blasters attached to her feet. Muscle efficiency, at least for a short time.

I figure that, if that's what's going to happen to me, I may as well take advantage of it. When I get home, I'm dragging out my Jillian Michaels DVD and hitting the basement. I need to lose some lazy-summer-belly-fat anyway. And if the turbo blasters are going to be there, I should use them while I've got them.

Of course, there is the possibility that the blasters will misfire and I'll get shot right into the wall... but I'll take that chance!

This IS Packing

2011-09-02T17:44:00.004-06:00

How can you tell if I'm going on vacation?

You can't, because I'm terrible at packing.

We're heading off on vacation tomorrow morning, and I only really started packing today. As in, about an hour ago. And I'm still waiting for clothes to dry so that I can put them into my suitcase. I may or may not remember to bring a tooth brush. And pajamas.

It's not that I haven't been thinking about getting ready. I've already called my credit card companies and told them I'm going to be traveling, and for pity's sake, don't cancel my cards when I'm standing at the front of a very long line of consumers. I've cleaned both bathrooms until they are sparkling (and no, it's not so that the burglars aren't disgusted by my bathrooms. I just don't want the chores when I come home). I've picked as many veggies from the garden as possible and either gave them away or canned or frozen them.

And most importantly, I've been planning what projects to bring with me. What you see here is the collection of an obsessed woman:

I'm going on vacation for goodness sake. I'm supposed to be enjoying the sights, relaxing, and discovering new things, new places. Can I do that while I'm knitting, spinning, or winding balls of yarn?

Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I?

It's been a long time since I've spent an evening just sitting, not working on something. I used to work on jewelry. Now, I work with yarn. It's also been a long time since I've uttered the words, "Wow, I'm bored." I simply prefer to have something to do with my hands.

So, while we drive, I'll spin. Maybe I'll wind those skeins into balls. I might knit that lace pattern in the evenings after a day of hiking while I chat with my husband, maybe not. I might read a book or a magazine. But I intend to enjoy myself, and I think I'm most likely to enjoy myself if I can bring my hobby along with me. I don't think I'll get all of this done while I'm away, but I'd much rather not be caught with idle hands.

I'm not totally finished packing, but the important things are ready to go!

Inspiration Mondays: Once More, Just Around the Bend

2011-08-29T21:25:00.003-06:00

This is a photo of one of the dunes in Murlough Bay, County Down, in Northern Ireland. I took it during a walk when I was supposed to be making an inventory of the plant biodiversity there for a project I was doing for a course. It was a random moment - I can't remember why I took it or if I even thought it was all that interesting at the time. It's only now that I realize how much I like this photo.

It's been kind of a long summer for me, and while I've been enjoying the weather, I've really been spending a lot of time at work inside my office, working away, getting stuck into whatever project is currently on the go. On the one hand, time seems to have flown past. On the other, it's been kind of a slow trudge. I'm not used to being at a desk for long periods of time, but that's what happens for me this time of year. I'm nearing the rut, and I don't want to get stuck.

It's during these periods of "the same ol' routine" when it can be very easy to let yourself slip into boredom and melancholy. This is why I like to slip in days off just to be at home, and it's also why I save my pennies to go on trips. I truly hunger the change of scenery every once in a while. It keeps me from going stir crazy.

And it's not good to go stir crazy when holding knitting needles. Trust me on this one.

We're heading down to the US this weekend for a week-long vacation, visiting some national parks and hiking some canyons. It'll be a lot of driving, but I'm really, really looking forward to a change for a while. I'm not the kind of person that needs to plan each and every minute: I like knowing that I will be seeing something I wasn't expecting.

That can be a good thing or a bad thing, really.

I guess the point of this is that this picture symbolizes the way I prefer my life to be: always something different on the horizon, just out of sight. It's slightly cloudy, but there's an intriguing bit of light out there, and I don't know what it will look like just around that bend. I just know that I want to see it.

Is that a sense of adventure? Am I an explorer? Do I get itchy feet? Crave change?

Yeah. And it's pretty awesome.

The Best Thing To Do

2011-08-28T21:00:00.003-06:00

Think back to 1998, just for a moment. I was in university, studying for my Bachelor of Education. The mandatory class for learning how to load film strip projectors and slide carousels had just been made non-mandatory. You were ahead of the game if you had Netscape 2.0. It took thirty minutes to download a 3MB mp3.

I think it was that year I lost my voice during an illness over Christmas. I'd just learned about IRC, and I was trying it out on New Year's Eve. I was feeling sorry for myself because I couldn't talk to anyone. I wanted company.

That was the day a whole world opened up for me.

Since then, the internet has made lots of things possible for me. I've met lots of interesting people and have seen a lot of interesting things. I never realized before how big the world was until I started looking at it. It's a really, really big world.

Fastforward to yesterday, and to a conversation I had with my husband. My friend had given me a swift that her uncle made years ago. A swift, for those who don't know, is a carousel of sorts, that you put your unwound skein on yarn onto to make winding a ball easier. I was going to make some adjustments to it so that it would be able to take larger skeins of yarn on it. This required replacing the dowels on it with longer ones.

"How do you remove dowels from wood?" I asked my husband.

"You either wrench them out or hit them out with a hammer or chisel, I guess," he said. "The best thing to do would be to Google it."

That sentence echoed in my mind. The best thing to do would be to Google it. In 1998, a googol was 10 to a huge exponent. Now, it's a thing you do when you don't know something. Wow.

Well, I did Google it. And I found this video. Perfect, simple explanation. I got out the drill, some glue, the dowels I'd purchased the day before, and some cutters to cut them. Twenty-five minutes later, this is what my deck looked like:

I'd explain how it works, but I think it might be better explained with a video, which I think I'll post later. My neighbours were replacing their shingles while I was doing this, and I'm pretty sure they were fascinated with what I was doing. They didn't ask, but it went mysteriously quiet over there...

I'm heading for a vacation soon, and we'll be bringing along our new Macbook Pro. I've been getting used to switching back and forth between it and the PCs at work, and though I haven't yet figured out how to do all the things I used to do on the old laptop, it'll be a nice thing to bring with us (hubby has to look after his business while we're away). The only thing was it didn't come with a bag, so I made this:

See how nicely that zipper fits? Yeah, I did that. Yep. Me.

It's not drop-proof, but it'll work for carrying it around in a bag. While I'm proud of it, I have to say that it was possibly one of the most boring things I ever made. Hubby was not interested in patterns or cables or colours. I knew he'd choose black, even after I brought up balls of navy, forest green and red. Ah well, he's a programmer, not a knitter.

And really, I can't really fault him. He might not knit, but he figured out the best thing to do. Without his suggestion, I wouldn't have a swift.

I wonder what would I have done in 1998?

Inspiration Mondays: Tasting Another Life

2011-08-22T20:55:00.006-06:00

I grew up in inner-city Winnipeg, the North End, to be specific. It has a heckuva reputation, and most people who also grew up in Winnipeg take a step back when I tell them where I grew up. I remember it as being quite a fine place, where I ran and played and rode my bike and dug around in the backyard with my brother. Still is, really. It's the city at its grittiest.

I spent Saturday with a friend at the Priddis and Millarville Fair. Neither of us had been before, and I had never been to a country fair in my life. I had a picture in my mind that it would be a small affair, maybe with a few stalls and some animal shows and good food.

Man, the thing was enormous.

There was a huge market full of local handmade items: woodcarvings, decorative screens, jewelry, linens... all gorgeous, all amazing. There was lots of food stalls - fudge, honey, mead, wine, candy, popcorn, burgers of different types, smokies... all smelling fantastic. And there were horse shows, an auction, a rooster crowing competition, and a bunny hopping course! Of course, there were sheep and llamas, and maybe one or two yarn stalls *wink*.

What I loved the most was the exhibition hall. It was delightful: displays of sheaves of wheat, honey, cakes and pies... mmm... pies. And my most favourite part was the contributions from children: a board with samples of different local plants, labelled by hand in child's scrawl. Rocks painted to look like animals. flowers, faces. Dioramas of landscapes. Clay models. Poetry. Handwriting. And, the "any other article" category, which I really, really liked because it gave everyone a chance to show off what they were good at. Pictures of cats. An old fencepost painted to look like a pencil.

Did I mention the pies?

The category that struck me the most was "Depiction of Rural Life." I read beautiful poems about the wind, the landscape, the people and the hard work of harvest. I saw pictures of people working in the field. Words like, "family," "close," "work," "tired," "happy" came up again and again.

Really, really different from my inner-city childhood.

I know I'll never be a farm girl. And I know I only sampled the best of rural life. There was no mention of droughts and frosts, disease and accidents. It was a rosy view of a very different life, and not many would want to do it. My brain tells me that this way of life must be dying out, that fewer people want to grow crops and raise animals, but this fair may have proved me wrong. If there are so many children who enjoy showing off their day-to-day activities, then there must be people out there who are glad to continue nourishing the province, growing the food we eat, encouraging pollinators, understanding the ground beneath them and the sky above them. I am in awe of such awareness, and I felt relieved to know that the knowledge is still thriving. It's a knowledge of which I have so little, and would really like to have more.

I'm going back next year, for sure. This city girl needs to keep tasting this country life. Maybe some of it will rub off on me and I won't moan so much when I can't get to the nearest mall as quickly as I would like, or when I can't get the imported fruit I want. My appreciation for these folks is overwhelming.

I just wish I'd bought some of that pie...

So, It Looks Like a Shell

2011-08-17T21:13:00.003-06:00

I'm sitting here feeling a bit grumpy because I went through great lengths for the sake of a bit of poetic license and failed.

I wanted to share my Mizzle, which I finished on Sunday. Its shape reminded me greatly of a scallop shell I had stashed in a box of knickknacks in the basement. I thought I'd bring it out and take some photos of it to compare to it.

I thought I'd tell you how I picked it up on the shore side at Portavogie in Northern Ireland, right at the docks. There's a restaurant there, and you could see the fishermen dock and clean the fish and scallop shells. They would discard the fish guts in the water, where seals would be waiting to gobble them up. The shells would get thrown onto a pile on the shore.

But I couldn't find the shell.

I thought I'd tell you how I was going to use the shell as a base for my tahkli spindle. I'd heard of other people using shells to support the pointy base, since shells are so robust and calcified.

I couldn't find the thing anywhere.

I thought I'd share how the shell came along with me in a box full of other nice things I'd picked up on my travels, and how the decorated egg shells from Austria they traveled with got destroyed.

No scallop shell.

I turned the house upside down looking for it. I did find a cable needle, a couple of books and half a tortilla chip.

Shell? Nope.

So yeah, my shawl looks like a shell. A scallop shell, specifically. You'll just have to... imagine it.

Inspiration Mondays: The New Thirteen

2011-08-15T19:05:00.003-06:00

I found my first grey hair yesterday.

Actually, it's not my very first grey hair. I used to get them a lot when I was about thirteen. I wasn't the only one. Quite a few of my friends were finding greys in their hormone-crazy hair then. I think I stopped getting them when I turned fourteen or so.

So, thirty-three must be the new thirteen.

When I first spied it, I squinted at it in the mirror, then immediately tried to pull it out. I missed the first time and pulled out a perfectly good coloured one. I thought maybe I'd imagined it and that I wasn't getting old, but in the end it was still there. I pulled it out with a yank and studied it carefully.

It was more wiry than my coloured hair. Totally silver from root to tip. I did have a slight panic. "My parents get grey hairs, not me," I said to myself.

Then, I looked in the mirror and gave myself a little shake. "The world is not going to end just because you've got a grey hair," I said.

Logic forced its way into my brain and I thought of the fact that my husband has had grey hairs since the day I met him. My mother got them around this age. I might not even get another one for another few years... it might just be a tired hair follicle, for all I know.

I walked into the living room and eased myself into the couch with a grunt. "Oh, my muscles," I said. "I'm so stiff. Must be this age getting to me."

Rascal got up and put his head on the couch cushion next to me. "Ok, time for a walk," I said to him. He'd been waiting all morning, and it was going to be a hot day. Better to get out into the fresh air instead of sitting inside panicking over the inevitable.

I opened the door, sprayed on some bug spray, and put Rascal's leash on. I opened the gate, walked down to the front of the house, and there he was.

It was a man, probably in his late fifties, shirtless, wearing shorts and riding his bike. The hair under his helmet was silver, as was the curly hair on his chest. His skin was bronzed by the sun.

And he was probably fitter than I have ever been in my life.

It was a funny sort of day after that. I went to the pool and met more incredibly fit people with grey hairs, laughing and enjoying themselves in the hot tub after swimming 50+ lengths. I thought about this as I did my usual 36 lengths.

Maybe thirty-three is the new thirteen, I thought. That means I'm about to grow up all over again.

I'm going to be a whole new person in a few years, a whole new adult. Just when I thought I was old and wise at thirteen, I keep thinking I'm old and wise at thirty-three. And when I'm older, I'll look back and realize what I child I was.

So, I found my first grey hair.

I also found I have a whole lot more life to live.

A Bit of In-Between

2011-08-10T20:11:00.003-06:00

Finishing my Semele shawl was a bit like doing a really good yoga practice: tough at times, but with careful examination and lots of deep breathing, I did it. It was good to stretch those mind-muscles. I love those complex projects.

After that, I decided that I was due to do a project with a little less yoga and a little more... couch potato. Something that was fun, but not too boring. I thought I deserved it.

When I lived in Northern Ireland, I learned a new word (I actually learned lots of words, but we can talk about that another time). The word was: mizzle.

"Mizzle? What's that?" I asked the first time I heard it.

"Ock, you know," the lady who uttered it said. "It's not mist. It's not drizzle. It's in-between. Ya know. Mizzle."

You get a lot of mizzle in Northern Ireland. It's the reason it's so green (it's also the reason I had such good hair there. Volume galore!).

Imagine my surprise at seeing a pattern called Mizzle on Ravelry. It's the perfect name: not too easy, not too difficult.

It's right in-between.

Here's mine in progress:

It's been a good, quick knit, and I think I'll probably have it done by the end of the weekend. We'll see how long it takes me to get through those hundreds of rib stitches - they always lull me into a false sense of ease. I'm loving the beautiful coral pink of this yarn from Pico Accuardi. I got it during my last trip to L.A., and I remember seeing it and just neeeeeeeeeding it.

You can't deny that kind of neeeeeeeeed.

So, while I watch yet another thunderstorm roll past, I'll sit here and knit away at my Mizzle and recall my mizzly days in Northern Ireland. Green hills, good hair and good craic.

You can look that word up yourself. *wink*

Inspiration Mondays: The Problem Process

2011-08-08T19:22:00.006-06:00

When confronted with problems, do you:

a) tackle them head-on.
b) put them in a box and hope they disappear.
c) find some hapless soul upon whom to unload your complaints.
d) have a cookie.

I'm afraid I'm all of the above.

I like figuring out the tough stuff. If there's a Sudoku puzzle in the paper, I do it. Jeopardy and Wheel of Fortune are regular shows in our house. I challenge myself to do math problems in my head. I watch crime and detective shows ad nauseum. Crosswords? Pass 'em this way. I consider it brain exercise, and a good way to keep myself mentally fit.

So, when I can't figure something out, it totally bums me out. As much as I know that there are some things you just have to take on faith, I don't like to back down on something for which I know there must be a solution. And it consumes me. That's not a very good way to exercise your brain.

Today, for example, I spent most of the day trying to fix something at work. I started out with option b): putting them in a box and hoping it would disappear. I wrote a report instead. Made some phone calls. Sent some emails. Looked to see who was in the office. Checked my email again. Drank some coffee.

Then, I moved on to option a): tackle it head-on. I had some ideas about how to fix this problem. I fired each idea one by one at this thing, and none of them fixed it. I tried them again, in different ways, different orders. I searched and searched and searched online for possible solutions. No dice.

After that, I landed right on option c): find some hapless soul... and my poor friend, Dawg, got it all. It's a good thing he's a patient guy, because if he wasn't, I'm sure he'd tell the internet to kick me off. (I haven't heard of that happening, but you never know...)

So, the day ended with option d): have a cookie. Yep, I had a cookie. I had three cookies, actually. And I drowned my sorrows in a cup of tea.

One of my favourite shows is Criminal Minds and one of my favourite characters on it is Penelope Garcia, the Behavior Analysis Unit's Technical Analyst and data diva with an attitude. And, while I can't say I would ever attain the level of computer karate she knows, I like to think that I am a little like her. She finds answers in a millisecond and has them sent out to the team's phones before they even asks. And she keeps looking until she finds them.

So, tomorrow, I'll go back to my office, sit down, and try again. I'm sure options a) through d) will re-run themselves, but that's the process. I won't give up until I can prove that it's either possible or impossible. Penelope and me, we're in that biz.

And she knits too. Awesome.

Tempted by a Goldfish

2011-08-03T17:33:00.011-06:00

I've often wondered if it's true what they say about goldfish, if they really do have short attention spans, and if they can forget things by the time they swim to the other end of the fish tank. Really? I don't know. I mean, they've made it this far, surely they have learned something in that time, right?

If it's true, then I spent most of last weekend being tempted by a goldfish.

I was about halfway through my Semele by Friday night, and I was looking forward to having a nice long weekend with lots of time to work through the last of it. I figured that, since the rest of it would be decreasing in size to the end, it should have been a breeze.

Saturday afternoon, I settled down on the couch and started knitting. I finished a few repeats of the pattern and was feeling quite pleased with myself. One more repeat, and then I'll go and get a drink and maybe go outside for a while.

About halfway through that repeat, the goldfish part of me said, You know, if you put a sticky note here, you could put this down and go outside right now. You've done quite a lot.

I shook myself and said to it, No, I'll just finish this repeat. I don't have far to go.

A row later, my inner-goldfish said, Hey, look at that! There's a garage sale down the road! You should go check it out!

No, I argued. Five more rows and I can take a break.

After struggling with my fish brain a bit longer, I did finish the repeat and then went out to enjoy the sun.

By Monday afternoon, I was nearing the end. I was flying through the last few rows when the goldfish started swimming around in my head again.

Are you done yet? It asked. Can we go and play with your spindle now?

Almost there, I said. I just have to finish this section, then I can do the very last bit and sew the ends in. I should be done in half an hour.

Half an hour? I'm bored! Come on, you're supposed to practice your spinning anyway. You can finish that later. And you're supposed to take Rascal out for a walk. Look how bored he is.

Not yet. I'll be done soon. I said.

The goldfish continued to find ways to distract me: snacks, tv, playing on the computer, but I gritted my teeth and ignored it. I was determined to finish.

I'm glad to say I won.

How many words can you think of that mean elegant?

It's light as a feather. Delicate, but surprisingly warm. I was starting to get a bit warm taking these photos. It would make a perfect shoulder warmer for a summer/spring/fall evening, or a pretty neckwarmer in the winter.

I'm often discussing the idea of being a one-project-at-a-time knitter with others, and it really does pay off. I think I manage to get through lots of projects through the year because of it, and I know that I would probably not complete nearly as much if I allowed myself to stray from project to project. It is an exercise in patience and tenacity.

Who knew it took so much tenacity to defeat a goldfish?

Inspiration Mondays: The World of Pratchett's Nomes

2011-08-01T21:11:00.005-06:00

"The other humans around it are trying to explain to it what a planet is."
"Doesn't it know?"
"Many humans don't. Mistervicepresident is one of them."
- The Thing and Masklin, from Terry Pratchett's Wings, The Bromeliad Trilogy

Terry Pratchett is one of my favourite authors, and The Bromeliad Trilogy is one of my favourite series. It's about a society of Nomes (not gnomes, they hate that) that have lived inside a department store for so many generations that they know nothing of the outside world. Their world is changed forever when the department store is scheduled for demolition. Their biggest challenge is communicating with the humans, who live their lives ten times slower than the Nomes, and who are big, stupid, lumbering creatures who can't see the obvious things that are right in front of them. In the end, they discover the truth about themselves and their place in the universe.

I'm an advocate of the slow life: slow food, slow days. I don't have a smartphone. I bake my own bread and cook most of my own meals from scratch. I grow my own vegetables. I pick my own raspberries and strawberries. I read books printed on paper, one chapter a night. And, of course, I knit and crochet, spin and dye my own fibres. I like to study processes, how things work, how things are made, and how they were made long ago. I am delighted by old cookbooks, historical documentaries, and the stories told by our elders.

Think of my delight when I discovered this video.

It's so cool what you see when you slow down, huh? This is the world the Nomes would see. It's amazing to see it as if I were one of them.

I think I'll be watching the hummingbirds in my garden a lot more closely now.

I'm not giving up my microwave or my hot water heater or my air conditioner. I think I'm just going to try to remember to breathe deeply, watch carefully, and be receptive to what's going on around me. I don't want to miss a single minute.

The Sentry

2011-07-31T14:25:00.004-06:00

I don't sleep very well in the summer. You'd think that the nice weather, mellow breezes, beautiful days and relaxing walks in the evening would make for a great night's sleep. Well, they would, if it weren't for this guy:

He's cute, isn't he? He is, yes. Rascal is a very well-behaved boy. He doesn't pull on the leash, he obeys commands, and he's not much bother.

Except he's part shih tzu.

Shih tzus were bred to sit in the lap of the emperor and bark to alert the court that someone was approaching. They're like little sentries. Walk past, and they'll give a little bark. It's a very useful thing when you're out in the garden and someone comes to the door. They like walks, cuddles and the general company of people. They don't need much else. Most of the time, they snooze in the sun.

So, here's a summer day with our little sentry:

5:00am. We're fast asleep and the windows are open to let in some fresh air. The cats in the neighbourhood begin their morning brawl.

Cat 1: Yeeeeooowwwwl! Reooowwwwwww! I'm a cat, and I want you off my lawn, other cat!

Cat 2: Nooooooooooooo! I'm a cat, and I have to scream at the top of my lungs when I see you!

Rascal: Wha? Pah! Shocking! Someone is making a noise! Let me out immediately so I may deal with it!

Me: No, go to bed.

Rascal: But! Pah! They are making noises! This is unacceptable! Let me run around the room a few times to show my frustration!

Me: Go to bed.

Rascal: (After a few laps around the room) Ok, well, that solved it. I'm going back to bed.

Me: Man, now I'm awake.

Rascal: Not me, I'm bushed. Night night. *snore*

After work, I come home and decide to take a 20-minute nap to make up for my early morning. Two people walk past, having a conversation at normal volume.

Rascal: Wha! Pah! Shocking! People are moving around out there! Let me jump on the couch so I can growl and bark at them!

Me: No, chill out. I'm trying to have a nap.

Rascal: But! Pah! That's just not right! I have not given permission for people to walk past. I will get my squeaky toys and squeak them in frustration.

Me: Come back here! Rascal! Give me that toy!

Rascal: *squeaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueaksqueak...

Me: *groan*

Later that evening, I stay up a little later to finish some work or chat to a friend. Before I head for bed, I let Rascal out for his evening routine. A dog two blocks away barks.

Rascal: Wha! Pah! There is a doggy alert! I must investigate!

Me: No, come back in here. Come! Come!

Rascal: No! Let me run through the wet vegetable garden and race around the yard barking at full volume at 11:30 at night!

Me: Come back here! Rascal!

Rascal: I know you're wearing your pajamas, but I am not coming back until you come out here and chase me for a while! Pah!

Me: Ooooo! Where are my shoes....

It's a good thing he's cute.

This is why I am such an advocate of people walking their dogs daily. Rascal gets two walks a day for a minimum of 30 minutes each time. If the weather is extreme, he gets one walk and we play with him in the house and get him to chase his squeaky toys until he is tired. Can you imagine what he'd be like if we never exercised him?

I shudder at the thought.

In the end, I do love this little guy. He's been such a great companion and is really one of the family. He is always great at settling down nervous dogs, and he has a way of making people smile when they need it. It's just a lot easier to live with him in the winter time, when the windows are closed and there aren't as many noises at night. Still, it's good to know that if anyone were to try to intrude, he'd be right there, letting us know.

He's the cutest security guard I know.

And Another...

2011-07-28T19:09:00.009-06:00

I found these things on my table today. I think you call them knitting needles.

Now that the Tour de Fleece is over, I find myself struggling to go back to my needles to actually knit something. Those last few days were the first time in the long time that I didn't have needles in my hand because I was so busy spinning. Now, I have a terrible battle on my hands: spin or knit?

Part of my problem is that my yarn stash is already overflowing, and I really need to knit some of this stuff up into something before it overwhelms my house. That might not sound like a problem to a lot of knitters, but as much as I love knitting, I hate to have this stuff just sitting there whilst I while away my time on other things. On the other hand, I also have a big pile of fleece to be spun, and I don't want to get out of practice.

Note: This isn't even half of it!

When your hobby becomes a burden, does that mean it's officially an obsession? Is that such a bad thing?

The good thing is that I haven't felt any need to make any purchases of yarn whatsoever for a while. Yep, savin' my cash, that's me.

Well, I'm sorta lying. I did buy a new spindle from Windrose Fiber Studio. Wait, wait, hear me out. I already own one of their spindles, and I decided to buy a third spindle because I figured that it would help me to spin faster. I have two top-whorl spindles right now. If I fill up one spindle, then I could set that aside and fill up the second spindle, and with a third spindle, I could ply those singles together, straight off the two others. That would save me the time it takes to take the yarn off the spindle to make it ready for more spinning. Time-saving, that's all I was thinking.

And well, since I was paying for shipping, I figured I'd buy 4 ounces of Blue Faced Leicester roving while I was at it. It was just more economical, you know.

I can stop whenever I want to. Really, I can.

Another thing that's holding me back is that I'm trying as much as possible to connect with other people online with similar interests. I comment on blogs and I look through Ravlery, Twitter, Plurk and, most recently, Google+ to find inspiration and to see what cool things people are up to. The problem with this, of course, is that it takes time away from what my needles.

I think, though, that I'd rather be busy meeting other people than be lonely with my needles. To all those I've chatted with recently, it's been to cool to find you! Here's to finding your tribe and getting to know them!

Inspiration Mondays: Recharging

2011-07-25T19:13:00.003-06:00

I've had a rough few weeks. I've been plagued with sleeping problems, and it's only over the last few days that I've been able to rest properly. I wasn't planning on going anywhere this summer, but I decided just over a week ago that I needed a few days off, and planned a last-minute getaway to an inn just south of Rocky Mountain House, Alberta. It was set in 150 acres of clearing within the forest, right near a creek.

We usually make sure our accommodations have an internet connection, because the hubby needs to maintain his business when we're away (he's not a workaholic, he just likes to make sure no one is in dire need while he is away). This time, though, the internet connection wasn't working, and the owners were desperately trying to get it going again. Couple this with the lack of cell phone reception, and we were practically transported back in time.

So, I couldn't write a blog post. I couldn't check my email. I couldn't log on to Ravelry, Facebook, Google+ (yeah, I'm there)... soooo, what to do?

I spun some yarn. I slept. I read magazines. I played with Rascal. We walked and talked and slept some more. I had a bath. I watched the birds, the clouds, the squirrels. I only thought about work a couple of times. When I woke up in the morning at the usual 6:30am time my brain wakes me up at, I rolled over and slept some more. Time slowed down to a crawl. A pleasant crawl.

I spend a lot of my day doing things: knit, write, spin, write, clean, cook, garden, knit, work, drive, wash... This was the first time in a long time I really didn't do anything. Nothing planned, anyway. And it was nice.

My brain seemed to take the time to purge itself of bad stuff. I had dreams that I was back with my grade 1 class in London, and they would NOT stop screaming. I woke up with a gasp more than once, but each time I went back to sleep and woke up rested. I remembered embarrassing moments, bad decisions, annoying people, folks that hurt my feelings. And I made peace with it, I think.

I couldn't live like this all the time, but I'm glad we took the time to do it. There's something to be said for the enforced silence that comes from a lack of technology on vacation. I rather liked it.

Of course, the first thing I did when I got home was logged onto the computer to announce that I was home. I'm sure the internet breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank goodness," it said. "We could not do anything until she got home."

You're all relieved, aren't you? I'm back, and I'm rested. Brace yourselves, everyone...

Final Sprint For the Finish

2011-07-24T16:29:00.011-06:00

There are certain phrases my mom always says to me. "You always leave your stuff everywhere. You never bring tissues in your pockets. Fix your shirt, it's on crooked. You always have to be different from other people."

That last one is so true. She said that the day I told her I didn't want to go to my junior high graduation (I did want to go - I was just trying to make a statement). I can't remember a time when I wanted to do exactly the same as someone else. I can't even order the same thing at a restaurant as someone else I'm sitting with. "You want the steak? Aw man, that's what I wanted..."

So, when it was suggested to me that I do the Tour de Fleece, my inner teenager scoffed at it. Me? Join in? No way.

I have to say though: It was a great choice for me to do it. I don't think I would have accomplished so much if I hadn't thrown myself in and joined the race. Probably the most helpful thing of all was stating the goals I wanted to achieve during the Tour, which were:

To spin at least 20 minutes a day.
To try out long draw drafting.
To try out spinning from the fold.

Look at me, goal-setting. In public. With other people. Whoa.

I thought spinning 20 minutes a day would be easy, but on days when I was tired or busy, it was tough to fit it in. Last week was the big sprint for me. I realized how few days I had left, and I really wanted to do the other two goals I set for myself, so I spun as much as possible to finish up the dyed merino I've been working on.

On Friday, we were supposed to spin something challenging, to match up with the most challenging day of the Tour de France race. I decided I'd hit goal two at the same time and try spinning the camel down I purchased this year at Olds. Since the hairs are so short, you need to spin it with lots of twist, and you need to use a long draw. Long draw is a way of stretching out the fibres so that the twist enters them slightly differently than a short draw. I knew it would be tough for me, because it would require me to let go of some of the control you get with a short draw. I brought out my brass tahkli for the first time and gave it a shot.

Here's what my tahkli spindle looked like last night. I wound a small ball of yarn off it later on. It's not finished, but hey, goal two: check.

Today, being the last day of the Tour, I knew I still had to give that last goal a try, at the very least. I finished spinning my dyed merino, set the twist and hung it up to dry. Then, I decided I'd try spinning some of the merino top I nicknamed George that I got from Olds this year as well. I really didn't think I'd be all that successful. After all, spinning from the fold seems counter-intuitive. It's where you take some of the fleece (prepared as combed top), and then fold it in have and spin it from the folded edge. The control-freak in me shuddered at the thought of having folded hairs in my yarn. It's not perfectly straight? Wha?

I got it working in the first try. I even did it with a long draw. Goal three: check. Go me.

So, while I only got two balls of yarn totally finished during the Tour, I still think it was a success. There's something to be said for diving in and joining the group. No wonder wildebeest are so successful... apart from the crocodile-infested waters they navigate and stuff. There's strength in numbers.

Hey, maybe they should add crocodiles to the Tour de France! I'll write that email to the organizers right now...

The Plyin' ain't Flyin'

2011-07-20T20:49:00.003-06:00

"How hard could it be?"

How many other words have you uttered and regretted later? I uttered these very words last Friday when I spun the last of my alpaca/merino roving for Tour de Fleece. I've only ever plied yarn once before, and it was a dawdle. You take two balls of yarn, and you twist 'em together. Bada bing, bada boom, two-ply yarn. This time, my singles were thinner, but hey, I figured it would only take an hour or so to ply them with my spindle.

Ha.

On Saturday, I prepared my singles into two balls to get them ready for plying. On Sunday, after walking my dog before the heat of the day, I brought out the two balls and my spindle out and thought I'd be done before I went swimming later that morning.

I started plying. Swimming time came along. "I'll get it done after lunch," I said to myself.

After lunch, I continued. Two hours later, I said, "I'll just take a break now."

I took a short nap. I continued plying afterwards. Four o'clock came around. "I guess I'll get some things ready for dinner." My arms were aching by then.

An hour after dinner, I finally finished. I soaked the yarn, set the twist, then left it to dry.

Presenting: my handspun two-ply alpaca/merino blend yarn. Approximately 220 yards of fingering weight.

The white pieces of string are the bits of string I used to secure the loops of yarn so they wouldn't get tangled whilst soaking. It's a darn good skein of yarn, if I do say so myself. It's so smooth and soft, and the texture after plying is quite pleasing, like tiny soft beads on a strong. Those alpacas and merino sheep oughta get together and breed more often.

I know, that's not what happened, but how did you enjoy that mental image?

I know there are plenty of other spinners who have spun way more yarn than I have during the Tour de Fleece, but a plied skein of yarn in two weeks is really fast for me. I'm very proud of this yarn, and I'm glad I challenged myself to spin it. I'm still working on some of the dyed merino yet, and I still have some challenges left that I set for myself at the beginning of all of this. The Tour finishes on Sunday, so I don't have much longer now, but I think I can still fit it in.

How hard could it be?

Inspiration Mondays: Stitch Poetry

2011-07-18T17:22:00.006-06:00

We were lucky enough to visit Tunisia a few years ago. We lived in the UK then, and we found a cheap deal after Christmas to visit this country in North Africa. It was a fantastic time, like visiting the world of Aladdin and Arabian Nights.

While we were there, we made sure we saw as much as possible, while still squeezing in some days of relaxation. We took a tour and saw El Djem, a coliseum built during Roman rule. It was used in the filming of Gladiator.

We also visited a couple of mosques in Kairouan, filled with miles of beautiful hand-painted tiles and carved plaster.

The hotel we stayed at had unbelievable examples of this carved plaster in the lounge. It was difficult to photograph, but it was truly breathtaking:

It's only recently that I've realized how attracted I am to intricate patterns. I recall spending time as a child covering every bit of white space on pieces of paper with lines and swirls. Even now, I continue to be inspired by batik patterns, and the patterns of Persia.

Having said that, there are certain kinds of intricacy that attract me. It has to be simply intricate, not contrived, elegant, sophisticated, rich. It's funny how one can be so particular about something that seems so generic. It's difficult to describe, but I know it when I see it.

So what does this look like?

Here is some fabric I found in a quilt shop that I couldn't walk away from:

And you can certainly see it in my preferences for knitting patterns:

What amazes me is the imagination of the people who create these patterns, either in fabric, in carvings and especially in knit stitches. I have no problem idly doodling patterns on a page, but to immortalize these patterns out of loops of string truly astounds me. Have a look at Kitman Figueroa's designs or Kristen Kapur's Cerasefira Shawl to see this genius at work.

Is that simple? Maybe not, but my brain seems to see these as an ordered beauty, not chaos. I wish I could explain it better than that, but that's the best I can do. If lines were language, then these patterns would be poetry.

Stitch poetry. Yeah, something like that.

Sometimes, Instinct Stinks

2011-07-16T09:48:00.005-06:00

Apparently, knitting is relaxing.

The image most people have is this: a person (usually a woman), nestled in a soft, comfortable chair, cat or other furry animal sleeping at her feet, with a basket over yarn balls next to the chair. A strand of yarn connects the basket to her needles as they click, click, click.

That's not what I look like when I knit, at least, not what I looked like last night.

I started working on Semele yesterday. Semele is a person from Greek mythology, the mortal mother of Dionysis. It is a beautiful shawl, but well...

The lace in this pattern is true lace, where each row is different. I'm used to knitting lace where you get a bit of a break every other row, where you just purl across and you don't have to think much. Not true for this pattern. I don't think I've wrinkled my forehead for that long before.

This is actually my second attempt knitting it. The first, I screwed up the start and mixed up the right and wrong side...

Or so I thought.

Last night, I was working away, carefully checking each and every row. I finished the first section, and was about a third of the way through the second section, then I stopped.

Wait a minute, I thought, I've done it again. Argh!

I worked back to where I thought I'd messed up. I turned the piece around and around. Ok, this is the right side. No wait, this is the right side... right?

I kept on knitting. That doesn't look right at all. I was expecting it to decrease here. I worked back a couple of rows, then worked them again. That's still not right.

I looked at the pattern, looked through each line, counted stitches. It was like reading hieroglyphics, and my brain couldn't see the shapes the pattern was making.

Then finally, logged onto Ravelry and looked at other people's projects. That's when the lightbulb went on. I hadn't messed up. This pattern is just one of those projects that is defying my instincts. It feels like I'm doing things wrong, but I'm not. It's difficult to trust the pattern.

I guess I'm more type A than I thought.

Perhaps one of the reasons that I'm finding it so hard to trust this pattern is that I've already ripped back on this project twice, and I'm pretty sure that, if I have to rip it out again, I'm going to pitch this ball of yarn out onto the street. I've just realized that one of the increases I used is wrong, but it'll just have to stay as on of my "personal touches."

I know, I wanted something more challenging, and perhaps once I finally get into the rhythm of this pattern, I can start to enjoy it more. I am loving the colour of the yarn, and I'm starting to appreciate the shapes I am making, but it seems like it's going to be a while before I really know what this thing will look like.

This must be what it's like to learn how to fly the space shuttle.... difficult at first... lots of steps to learn, then easy... well, ok, it's nothing like flying a space shuttle. I just want to be able to say that I AM like a rocket scientist for once. I'm guessing, though, that astronauts just don't say, "Well, I'm thinking this is the right switch. It just feels right." There's a big difference between thinking you're right, and actually knowing you are.

It's probably just as well that the shuttle program is finished. They don't need any advice from the likes of me!

The Epic Blanket

2011-07-14T20:17:00.004-06:00

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaahhhh this blanket is finished! Bless my acorns, I can't believe it's done.

It's a little lumpy and uneven in places, but I suspect that it might just even out with wear. I worked a row of half double crochet around the edge to hide some of lopsidedness of this thing, and it sort of works. It's soft and comfy, anyway. I'm sure whoever ends up using it won't mind the imperfections... much...

I've still been spinning on my spindle on the side. I'm almost through my 100g of alpaca/merino, and I'll be ready to ply it soon.

I decided the other night that I'd start prepping some of the fibre that I dyed during the dye class I took at Olds Fibre Week a few weeks ago. I was pretty sure it was going to be a tough spin, because the process we used seems to have felted the wool a bit. Both my friends, Tara and dkzack, had a tough time spinning it.

I decided to separate it as thinly as possible, and then predraft it as much as possible. That means that I stretched out the fibres gently as wide as I could without it breaking apart. It was pretty compacted, and it took a long time, but it worked.

And, oh my goodness, is it pretty!

It won't make a lot of yarn, but it'll make a decent little skein for some small project. I'm pleasantly surprised at how much I'm enjoying spinning it!

I'm so excited to get on to other things, now that I've finished that blanket. I'm kind of tired of these epic projects, but there doesn't seem to be any way to make things any faster, unless:

I figure out how to slow down time.
I develop bionic fingers.
I learn to knit with my toes.

I guess I better learn to live with it. Epic is still good anyway... I hear Odysseus was a fan of them...

Inspiration Mondays: Good Wins

2011-07-11T19:16:00.003-06:00

I don't remember taking this photo, but it's in amongst a file of photos I took while on vacation in County Donegal, Ireland. (And it's pronounced dun-ee-GAWL, by the way.) It's a place called Mulroy Bay, in the northwest of Ireland. For me, it invokes images of the legends of Arthur and Guinevere (I prefer the Welsh spelling, Gwenhwyvar), Merlin, the lady of the Lake, and all that stuff of fantasy.

Sometimes, I yearn for the days of chivalry, of the court, and the beginnings of manners, and the fabled decency and kindness of the legendary king. Is chivalry dead? Are manners and decency a thing of the past?

This weekend, the British tabloid, The News of the World, was shut down by its owner, Rupert Murdoch. It was revealed that the editor and a private investigator had hacked into the voicemails of murder victims, victims of the 7/7 terrorist attacks in London, and relatives of deceased soldiers to obtain information about them for their stories. They even went so far as to delete messages here and there, giving the relatives of murder victims false hope that perhaps their loved ones were still alive, since they appeared to be taking their own messages. Once these activities were revealed, it was met with severe public outcry, and, eager to keep public opinion towards his media empire on his side, Murdoch closed down the paper. The News of the World published its last paper on Sunday, July 10.

I have to admit, before the paper was shut down, when I first heard of this story, I despaired. I was sure that The News of the World would continue on into perpetuity, publishing more trash and destroying more lives again and again. It's not the first time they had done such activities. When I heard they were shut down, I looked up from my knitting and cheered at the tv. I could not believe that human decency was winning. It seems so long since it did... that the media continues to profit from other people's suffering and embarrassment.

This time, they didn't.

I'd like to believe that the days of Arthur will come back. I can't imagine that I'll see a knight lay down his cloak across a puddle for me anytime soon (but it'd be cool if that happened). Maybe, though... just maybe, people are going to keep standing up against anti-social behaviour, and against the profit from other people's suffering, even the profit gained from mean-spirited talk. We hear it every day. I think it's time to push back the tide.

I feel like giving the Lady of the Lake a high five right now. I wonder if she'd do that...?

Tour de Fleece Update

2011-07-09T18:51:00.004-06:00

It's been about a week since I started the Tour de Fleece, and this is my progress so far:

That's about 50% of the alpaca/merino blend I started last week. It's not bad for spinning at least 20 minutes a day. I took it off the spindle today and rolled it into a ball in preparation for plying it when I get the second half done.

I've been visiting a lot of other blogs belonging to people who are also spinning for TDF, and most of them are wheel spinners, a handful spindlers. I can't help but feel a bit inadequate when I see the quantity others are spinning. All I can think is:

a) I need to spin for longer each day.
b) Maybe it's time to think about getting a wheel.
c) It might be time to quit my job so I can spend more time playing with this stuff.

While the third option is attractive, it's not exactly practical. I figure that, if I keep at it, I can be just as quick. It's not helping that I'm still working on my blanket (this thing is never gonna be done), but I intend to step it up a bit and spin for a little longer each day.

Oh, and I managed to take a photo to prove the date:

Keep on pedaling!

Thoughts on a Boring Project

2011-07-06T20:43:00.003-06:00

THIS is why I don't make baby blankets.
I'd much rather be going cross-eyed over a lace chart or on a complicated cable pattern.
I'd much rather be spinning/knitting a shawl/having a bubble bath/eating cake.
At least I won't have to block it into shape.
I won't have to block it into shape because it's already the shape of a block.
The baby that gets this better not throw up on this thing.
If I keep having to work on it, I might throw up on it instead.

This is the border for the baby blanket I'm currently making. And yes, I know I probably could have knit it directly onto the blanket edges, but I couldn't figure out how to do it with the stitch pattern I'm using, and if I have to rip out any more stitches for this thing, there is a very real danger it's all going into the trash. It's not helping that I'm sleep deprived and that my eyes keep wandering over to all the pretty fibre I could be spinning.

Oh well. They say that these things help you to appreciate the good things in life. It won't be long before I'm back to making something more interesting.

I promise I'll never complain about a complicated pattern ever again. Pinky swear.

Inspiration Mondays: The Measure of Things

2011-07-04T18:24:00.000-06:00

Just because something is easy to measure doesn't mean it's important. - Seth Godin

I was a teacher. I became a teacher because it felt like it was something I was good at that could get me a job. I taught all ages, but concentrated on the elementary grades. I started my career in London, England, and then taught in Belfast, Northern Ireland.

I met many, many children while I was a teacher. I don't think I met a child I didn't like... eventually! (There were certainly a few that weren't my favourite people right away.) I still meet children every day in my current line of work, but I don't develop the relationships I used to as a teacher. So, why did I leave the profession?

I left because I couldn't keep measuring children.

Tests, tests, tests, levels, standards, inspections, ticking boxes, submitting plans, marking, marking, marking... No, I couldn't do it. That's not all it was - we had lots of fun, I had great days, great moments. I loved watching the lightbulbs switch on in their minds, when they worked out things for themselves, the great pleasure of owning your own knowledge. There just weren't enough of those days for me.

And then, there were the unmeasurables.

These were the kids that weren't great a reading, who took lots and lots and lots of coaching to spell words correctly, who daydreamed during math lessons. They were at the bottom of the heap, the lowest reading levels, the same kinds of math sheets... over and over, they failed.

But darn it, what else was there to them?

Ken was of my favourites. I know, you're not supposed to have favourites, but you can't help yourself sometimes. He wasn't a great reader. It was believed he was dyslexic, but you know, I think he just wasn't into words at all. It wasn't his language. He didn't understand how stories had a beginning, middle and end... But ask him anything about animals and he could tell you. He had stacks of books about animals, and he couldn't read a word in them, but he could point to an Amur leopard and tell you how endangered they were. He knew that giraffe's tongues are purple and that you call them stick insects, not stick bugs, because they're not technically bugs. And he could draw. And paint. In fact, he painted this bear and gave it to me as a Christmas gift that year.

He would lose his books and his lunch money. I don't think I ever heard him read me a sentence on his own. He didn't like playing football (soccer) with the other boys... at least, he didn't until he was allowed to play goalie. But he was great a congratulating his classmates for their achievements. We thought his concentration was no good until he happily stepped in to play another kid's instrument during the end of year concert as well as his. He knew both parts. Alright, it was a rainstick, but try playing that at the same time as a triangle. Try it. It's hard.

My own family has members that are unmeasurable. They have talents that don't register on the standardized tests - cooking, driving, sense of direction, mechanics... but where would we be without them?

Someone asked me once to complete the sentence: The world needs more _____ and less ______. And I said, "The world needs more plumbers and less lawyers." Think about it. How easy is it to find a good plumber?

The idea of unmeasurable knowledge has been stuck in my mind for the past few weeks because I often think about the marketability of my talents. I have a degree in education, but if I stray out of that, what can I do? What have I been measured for, and what value is there in the the things I can do that you can't measure? Am I useful if I know I can tell a story? Relate to people? Knit a sweater? Carry a tune?

I want to believe that the world will change one day to value people like Ken. I want to know that the world will not just look at scores and certificates and bachelor degrees to understand the true measure of a person. I don't know if that will happen, but I want it. Badly.

Ken would be eighteen this year. I hope he's found a place that understands him and values him. Cheers to you, kiddo. You still inspire me to look for the talent in each and every person I meet.

Vive la Fleece!

2011-07-02T18:05:00.004-06:00

If you cruise around some knitting blogs today (and some of you probably have, I'm sure), you'll know that today is the first day of Tour de Fleece. This is the challenge that spinners can join each year that runs during the Tour de France, and it's a time to set challenges for yourself with your spinning skills.

The Tour de Fleece group on Ravelry posted some of the guidelines:

Spin every day the Tour rides, if possible. Saturday July 2nd through Sunday July 24th. Days of rest: Monday July 11th, Monday July 18st. (Just like the actual tour)
Spin something challenging Friday July 22nd. (The Tour’s toughest mountain stage over the Col du Galibier for the second time, and finishing up on Alpe d’Huez.)
Wear yellow on Sunday July 24th to announce victory. Why not wear yellow on any day you feel particularly successful? (Yellow is the color of the race leader in the Tour - but here we are all ‘race leaders’)
Other colors if desired: Green (sprinter - think FAST), Polka-dot (climber - as in uphill), and white (rookie)

You can also join teams and win prizes. I'm on Team Spindlers 2011 (naturally) and in the Rookies 2011 team as well. The Spindlers team asks you to post a picture of yourself spinning with a proof of date in the background somehow. I'm not sure what I could do to make that happen. If you have any suggestions, please leave a comment and let me know!

My goals for the Tour are:

To spin at least 20 minutes a day.
To try out long draw drafting. It's a way to stretch out your wool to make a loftier, springier yarn.
To try out spinning from the fold, which is another way to get lofty yarn.

I actually already started spinning at least 20 minutes a day a couple of days ago, and it's amazing what you can get done. Yesterday, I set some bread to rise for 30 minutes, and got my spindle out to spin during that entire time. I'm working on one of the bags I got from Olds: my 80/20 Alpaca/Merino. It's so lovely and easy to spin. I plan to spin it as fine as I can and then ply two singles together. We'll see how well that works.

What's amazing is that, all of a sudden, I'm spinning steadily without having to park and draft (where you have to stop the spindle so that you can get the wool ready). It's like things have miraculously clicked! Maybe it's because I've been watching so many YouTube videos of people spinning. I learn very well from watching and listening.

It's exciting jump in and play with my spindles. All I've been thinking of is spinning these days, which is making it really difficult to finish my current knitting project. I'm bound and determined to get it done in the next week, because I'm really quite bored with it, but I refuse to start anything new until it's done. One project at a time... pah!

J'espère être un champion de spin à la fin de ce défi! (I hope to be a spin champion at the end of this challenge!)

The Three Amigos, Part Three: The Weird Thing

2011-06-30T18:37:00.002-06:00

If you looked at my last post, you would have seen the pretty photo I posted just before I went rushing off for my fibre dyeing class on Monday. The truth is, I just popped it up because it was one of my favourite photos and I just wanted to have something to share for Inspiration Mondays.

Now for the weird thing.

On Monday, the Three Amigos went off to Olds College for our Dyeing to Try It class, where we would learn how to dye yarn and roving for the first time. Ever since we'd seen in advertised in the class brochure earlier this spring, we knew were destined to be there. It was fun, fun, fun... and very vinegar-y (it's used to set the dye). I felt what it must be like to be fish and chips.

That's not the weird thing.

We learned how to do rainbow dyeing (where you sprinkle/squirt dye into the yarn as it sits in water in a crock pot), injection dyeing (injecting colour into balls of yarn), we dyed roving in a pot, and we also did some yarn painting and immersion dyeing. My brain was tired by halfway through the afternoon, and it didn't help that I hadn't had much sleep. Luckily, dkzack and Tara were raring to go all day, so I'm sure they picked up any information I might have missed. All in all, we walked away with four skeins of yarn each, and a two foot piece of dyed roving each. We also took home seven, count 'em, SEVEN jars of dye that were mixed up during class and were not being taken home by other class members. We scored well.

So, we drove back to town that evening, and dkzack and I roared off to show our faces at a goodbye party for a friend, while Tara quite sensibly went home to her family. dkzack and I were both exhausted at the end of the night. I barely got my yarn out of its bag to set them up on the counter to finish drying, and then I managed to get showered before crawling into bed.

So, here's the weird thing.

Check out the colours I dyed my yarn.

Now check out the photo I posted the other day. In fact, click on it so you can see it enlarged.

Notice anything?

Blue like the water, purple like the sky, even the russet of the sunrise.

It's not like I didn't dye anything else that day, or that there weren't any other colours available. I helped to dye two yellow and blue/green skeins that Tara and dkzack took home. I elected to take home an undyed one instead. It's like my brain was programmed earlier that day for those colours.

Whoa.

In case you're wondering, that photo was taken at sunrise at a friend's house on Lummi Island in Washington state. We were sleeping in their living room which had a view out to the water. I got up that morning to make a trip to the bathroom, and this is what I saw when I headed back to bed. I knew then and there that that is where I wanted to be. Someday, I will find a home like that.

Until then, I guess I'll live that view out in my yarn.

Inspiration Mondays: No talk today

2011-06-27T07:02:00.001-06:00

Short post today because I've got a busy day ahead of me. For now, just check out this view. We'll talk later.

The Three Amigos: Episode 2,The Big Shop

2011-06-26T16:28:00.009-06:00

Friday was possibly the longest Friday of my life. I usually don't have time to clock-watch, but I'll admit, I was watching the seconds tick past one by one.

I get a message from dkazck. "We're going to Olds tomorrow! I'm SO excited lol."

"Me too!" I said.

On Saturday morning, ten minutes before the scheduled arrival time, dkzack arrived at my front door. Tara was in the car knitting a sock. I'd like to say I was still running around getting things ready to leave, but I was packed and ready to go (apart from a pair of socks and shoes). We were some excited people.

We gave ourselves plenty of time to get to Olds, Alberta, to visit the Merchant Mall at their yearly Fibre Week. We also planned to visit Custom Woolen Mills in Carstairs that day as well. We'd all pretty much blocked off the whole day for this trip.

This was Tara's first time (in fact, the first day I went out for coffee and knitting with Tara, I told her she was coming to Olds), and it was the second time for dkzack and me. I have to say, Tara played it like she was an old hand at the Merchant Mall. The bags of fleece were in her hand way faster that I expected.

dkzack has a more careful shopping-style: the once-over, then second-look, then the purchases... and then, maybe more purchases later.

Me, I'm the mathematician... or so, I'd like to think. I'm adding the grams of fleece in my head, calculating yardage, keeping track of the dollars (or, at least I was for a little while until I decided to just enjoy myself). I'm also the enabler.

dkzack was looking at a bag of silk hankies. "Do you know how to spin these?," she asked.

"Buy it," I said.

"What do you think of the colours in this big ball of Fleece Artist?"

"Buy it."

We found out that day that, since Custom Woolen Mills was at the Merchant Mall this weekend, the mill was actually closed. Tara made the excellent point that that just means we have to do another road trip sometime. When life hands Tara lemons, she makes them into a gin and tonic.

The weirdest thing for me was that it felt like we entered a timewarp while we were in there. When we decided to head off for lunch, we piled all our stuff into the car and headed off to find somewhere to eat. I was informed we had been in there for two hours. "Two hours? No way," I said. It was agreed that we all had entered some kind of yarn-out/blackout state in there. I vaguely remember Tara putting her phone away in her bag after telling her hubby we'd just arrived and that she'd talk to him later... That was the last contact with the outside world I remembered until then.

After lunch, we hit the Merchant Mall again for a final run-through ("What about this?" "Buy it.") Then, we went into town and got some supplies for our upcoming fibre dyeing class on Monday. You've never seen three people get so excited over rubber gloves, I tell you.

So, what did I end up with? A whole lotta spinning supplies:

A pound of Merino roving and a pound of Red California roving.

200g of Merino dyed in Raspberry and 200g of multicoloured Corriedale.

283g of a swirly grey Merino which didn't have a name (but I christened it George when they were labeling it, and that's how they're referring it to now).

A 100g of brown alpaca/silk roving and 100g of black alpaca/Merino roving.

A bag of silk hankies, which are ready to be prepped for spinning.

100g of camel down. Yeah, that's right. Camel down.

An Ashford spindle and a brass tahkli spindle.

Am I a happy spinner?

What do you think?

The tahkli is my first supported spindle, which means I need to find a little cup or something for it to spin on. This morning, I woke up early and started daydreaming about what I could use for its support. I nearly got up and started rooting through my cupboards to find something, but sleepiness soon overtook me and I quite sensibly slept on. That's just another adventure for down the road, I think.

The funniest thing was that I left that big one pound bag of Merino in dkzack's car. I noticed about an hour later when I was putting my things away. With twitchy hands, I phoned Tara, who told me she noticed it in there, then I phoned dkzack and left a slightly high-pitched message on her voicemail. "Umm... I think I left one of my bags of fleece in your trunk... I can wait till Monday..."

She was nice enough to come by later to drop it off. How's that for an understanding friend?

Tomorrow, we get up early and head back to Olds for our fibre dyeing course. The Merchant Mall will still be open. This could get dangerous. If you don't hear from me by Tuesday, send out a search party...

The Book Audition

2011-06-23T20:37:00.007-06:00

I have a weakness for TV talent shows. If it's got talent, I'll watch it. Remember Star Search? Loved it. I think it's a Filipino-thing - we looooves us some talent shows! Nowadays, I especially love the audition episodes, but not for the ridiculous, humiliating auditions. I truly get a kick out of watching someone who looks like they live next door to you get up on stage and knock people's socks off with an amazing voice, or fantastic dancing, or a great act. It inspires me to know that there are so many people out there with hidden talents. You never know what people will come out with.

Here's where the big link comes in.

I also have a weakness for books. In this day of e-readers (which I think are pretty cool, by the way), I still prefer holding a book in my hand, feeling the pages between my fingers, smelling fresh ink, or even aged paper (ok, kinda fusty paper, but it's a unique smell). I used to be pretty haphazard with my purchase of books. One look at our basement bookshelves and you'll see that both hubby and I love them. We treasure our favourites, and are loathe to give them up.

Since we became homeowners, we've become really frugal with our pennies, and very careful about what we fill our space with. So, we stay away from book fairs and second-hand bookstores. It's just too easy to bring home a bagful of books.

So, we audition them from the library.

I worry about libraries. I worry that they will disappear altogether. I've heard high school students tell me that they do 90 percent of their research on the internet now. I wonder if my own children will know the freedom of walking into a library, browsing the shelves, finding a quiet corner to peruse them, and then taking home any book of their choosing to look after and enjoy for a couple of weeks. To me, a library is a place to enjoy, not just a resource. Maybe they will survive in some other form - perhaps digital, I dunno. Maybe I'm just a dusty traditionalist...

Anyway, any books that I'm even remotely interested in purchasing always get a couple of weeks to prove themselves to me when I get them from the library. When it comes to knitting books, I'm usually only intrigued by a pattern here or there. This week, though, the auditioning has been tough. I've borrowed these four books from the library, and so far, at least three of them are on my "must buy" list. I'm loving how, yet again, there are people out there who are sticking their necks out and showing off their talents, and believe me, there is TONS of talent in these books. I'm not going to go through reviewing them right now. I'm still enjoying paging through them, reading bits of them here and there, savouring them slowly like pieces of hard caramel candies.

Mmmm... candy...

All I have to say is: It's probably a good thing for my bank account that our mail services are on strike right now. It gives me time to set some money aside, and some time to decide how much I really want these books. Do they deserve to go on to the next round? Will they go to Vegas? Will they make the top twenty?

Oy, I really have to get out more.

Inspiration Mondays: Professional Non-cleaning

2011-06-20T20:33:00.006-06:00

Imagine rummaging through your dirty laundry basket and finding something that someone didn't want to wash in order to preserve the historical value of it.

Can't really do it, huh?

I follow the blog at the Royal BC Museum, and recently one of the conservators, Colleen Wilson, wrote a post entitled: Dirty Laundry, all about the decisions she has to make as a conservator of linens and the like at Helmcken House, a historical house which once belonged to Dr. John Sebastian Helmcken, a surgeon for the Hudson's Bay Company, who later negotiated the entry of British Columbia as a province of Canada.

Imagine coming to work and trying to decide whether or not to wash a pillowcase. Would the stains be from the doctor's hair oil? What would the starch on a doily tell us about laundering practices back then? What does the dust on a curtain tell us about the attitudes toward smoking indoors of the 1850s?

It's enough to drive a clean freak stark raving mad.

But would they be clean? Wilson writes:

The traces of dye and perfume, not to mention “fabric conditioners” and “optical brighteners” can change colour or interact with older materials unexpectedly, as well as presenting a 21^st century version of “clean”.

It's for these reasons that the conservators at the Royal BC Museum have vast knowledge of the effects of water, pH and minerals on antique fabrics. They are not cleaners: they are meticulous scientists, trying to help us to understand the past.

Interesting then, to consider most people's attitudes towards having knitted garments in this day and age. I think that, in this sterile age, one of the reason many people won't wear handknits is the fact that they take care to launder. You can't just throw them in a washing machine with some detergent and set it to warm and walk away. Even a cotton lace shawl requires blocking afterwards to retain its shape. And it's not that you can't wash these items. You just have to know how, and to take the time to do it right.

I am glad to know, however, that there are people like conservators. I kinda wish I knew one. I'd be so interested in the things they know about textiles... and I know I'd probably be one of those annoying people calling them up all the time. "So, how would I wash..."

I'm still going to be laundry, though. I don't think anything of mine is of enough value to preserve in its original "unclean" state. But I sorta feel like the fact that I wear my handknits makes me somewhat of a conservator myself... preserving the ways of the past, and using my knowledge of those fibres to clean them in an appropriate way.

Hand me some rubber gloves, people. I'm makin' history here.

Paintin' on a Sunny Afternoon

2011-06-19T18:49:00.009-06:00

And I love to live so pleasantly
Live this life of luxury
Lazing on a sunny afternoon
- Sunny Afternoon, The Kinks

Days and days and days of rain... and it's probably not over yet. We were lucky to have some sunshine this afternoon. Rascal is lazing around on the deck, hubby is watching a movie on the History Channel... ahhh...

I had no plans this weekend. I figured I would do a bit of work on some projects in progress, knitting and otherwise, but I woke up this morning with an urge to paint.

I don't paint, in case you were wondering. I do love to play with paint, though.

In my days working at Michaels, I spent a lot of Saturdays on the store floor with projects for kids to do. One of my favourite standbys was painting terracotta pots - cheap, easy to do, and satisfying for the kids. (In case you are wondering, acrylic paint will stain, and I am obliged to tell you after a mom threatened a lawsuit when paint stained her coat... ahem...)

Anyway, I purchased a couple of terracotta pots at the local dollar store a couple of weeks ago. My intent was to use them to hold small balls of handspun yarn for plying. You put the ball under the upside-down pot, thread the yarn through the hole in the bottom, and then attach it to the spindle for plying. They keep the balls of yarn from bouncing around while you concentrate of spinning the spindle.

Originally, I was just going to paint one red and the other blue, just so that I could keep track where each strand of yarn was coming from as I plied. This morning, I went down to the basement to dig out some paintbrushes, and I found some bottles of acrylic paint in various shades of blue, as well as brown, white, and even some metallic gold. This was a bit of a surprise to me, because I thought I'd given away all my paints and paintbrushes in a fit of cleaning last summer. I dug around a bit more and unearthed some cheap artist brushes and sponge brushes.

I washed each pot clean of the pricetags stuck to them. That was a bit of mistake, because it being a rainy morning, it took FOREVER for them to dry. I didn't want to make the mistake of painting damp clay, so after I ate lunch, I popped them each into the oven at 65C/150F for 15 minutes, and that dried them nicely.

Then, I spent the afternoon painting. While I painted, I kept thinking about how long it had been since I'd done this. When had I last worked on something purely on a whim? I normally plan things out, turn things over and over in my head, tumbling the rough ideas into smooth steps. Today, no. Woke up. Thought about it. Did it. Nice.

These pots are inspired by batik fabrics. I started with a couple of motifs and just kept painting until I couldn't think of anything more to put on them. They're a little shaky since I have no training for this kind of thing, but I like them.

I've sealed them with some Modge Podge (also leftover from my Michaels days), and I'm very happy with them. I may seal them later on with some polyurethane, but we'll see how well the Modge Podge does. It's tough to stop "improving" things sometimes.

So, the bathroom didn't get cleaned, I didn't work on my knitted blanket, and I didn't work on the computer. I painted two pots. I had a nap, and painted some more. Nice.

Here's to unplanned projects with no time limits and with the singular purpose of beauty. Thanks, sunshine!

Comfort Yarn

2011-06-16T19:40:00.000-06:00

All those that love a grilled cheese sandwich on a cold, rainy day, raise your hands now.

Yeah, me too. Nothin' quite like comfort food, huh? I know, it's bad for you, but sometimes you just need to feel the rush of a bit of the bad stuff going through you when you're having a bad day.

Yarn does the same for me. When I'm having a tough time, sometimes all I want to do is pull out some of my stash and place it around me in a protective circle of loveliness. Some of my friends (in fact, most of my yarn friends) have voiced the idea that you need a bit of emergency yarn in your desk when you're having one of those days that just won't let up. For example:

Scenario #1: The boss phones up and asks you for a report you thought you didn't need to write until next week. You open up a word processing document and place this in front of you to touch between each paragraph: 85% baby alpaca and 15% bombyx silk in laceweight by Alpaca Plus - soft, cool to the touch and smooth as... well, silk.

Scenario #2: You organize an event for a bunch of bigwigs, and instead of arriving on time, they arrive in trickles... one by one, milling around looking at their smartphones while you're looking at the clock because you know you only have them for a limited time before someone whisks them away to another event. You stuff this ball into your pocket to hold as you watch the door: Malagbrigo Superwash Merino in Cote d'Azur, fingering weight.

Scenario 3#: You book a bunch of meetings. The participants of five out of the ten meetings you booked phone all on the same day to say they can't make it, and each gives you two more dates and times they would prefer. You place this on the desk for you to rest your forehead on while your brain spins inside your skull: madelinetosh lace in Nebula... fantastically mesmerizing colour.

Scenario #4: Your dog, who was perfectly healthy all day, decides just before bedtime that it's time to go down to the basement to revisit his dinner... from both ends. It's time for the big guns. You bring out this yarn to clutch in your hands as you try to sleep while listening intently all night for any further retchings: A monster skein of 999metres of fingering weight Blue Faced Leicester by Fleece Artist. This is a great one to unwind and drape around your neck, like a perfect merino stole of happiness.

I know: It's only yarn. But you know what?

1) It's cheaper than therapy.
2) It's safer than tranquilizers.
3) It's darn wonderful stuff.

Ahhhh... comfort.

Inspiration Mondays: Rediscovering Wonder

2011-06-13T20:00:00.001-06:00

I try to take a couple of days a week to think about things that inspire me... to read things that might be interesting, to spend time reflecting on the things I see around me, and to watch videos of people sharing things about which they are passionate.

This leads me to spend a lot of time on the TED website. TED Stands for Technology, Education, and Design. It's an interesting site full of discussions from people sharing all sorts of ideas about, well, technology, education, and design. It's always full of heated discussion, people who disagree vehemently, and people defending as though their lives depended on it. There are some aspects about TED that I find a little elitist (like the fact that it costs thousands to attend the conferences, unless I misread something somewhere), but the fact that you can watch the videos for free is a fantastic thing.

So, last week, TED posted the following video on their Facebook page. It's a talk by artist Janet Echelman. What drew me to watch it was the title: Taking Imagination Seriously.

I know a lot of people will have watched the first few minutes of this video and thought, "Well, what's the point of having big nets in the air? Wouldn't it endanger a lot of birds for the sake of having something pretty in the sky?"

Firstly: There has not yet been a single bird caught in these things. The artist stated it perfectly: "There are plenty of big trees out there that birds manage to fly around." The nets are visible and flow just like tree branches do in the wind.

Secondly: Does there have to be a message? Maybe there is a message, but it is not a verbal one. It manifests itself as that feeling in your chest when you are deeply moved, or the way you wrinkle your forehead while you puzzle and make sense of what you are seeing, hearing, feeling. That's what happened to me as I watched this. You sometimes feel it when you hear a song that moves you, or see something that touches you, be it art, some technology, something scientific... something that shakes you and leaves you speechless. Maybe you are speechless because you're not supposed to say anything. You feel your eyes searching for something to focus on as you try to grasp something in your brain that is just out of reach... perhaps you are searching for that non-verbal message that this thing is sending you.

I used to be the sort of person who uttered the phrase, "What's the point of that," but the older I get, the more I find that there really isn't any answer to that sometimes. Not a verbal answer, anyway. I keep trying to explain this fascination of mine with yarn and pointy sticks or hooks, and you know what? Maybe there is no explanation. I like it. It moves me. It makes my mind exercise in ways it never used to before. And that's enough. It's wonderful.

And wonder is a great thing.

The Three Amigos: Episode 1

2011-06-12T14:01:00.008-06:00

So, what happens when three yarn divas set off on a day of fun in the city?

I picked up my friends, Tara and dkzack, in the morning and drove off in the sunshine into Calgary. We were pretty excited, and we chatted away the whole drive in. It wasn't long before we were talking about our projects, and we laughed as my friend, dkzack, pulled out her Blackberry to look at yarn online. "Yeah, I'll have to tell everyone that I bought yarn even before I got out of the car," she said.

It wasn't long before the rain that was forecast for the day started to come down, but it didn't dampen our spirits. The World Wide Knit in Public Event we attended ended up being a rather small indoor affair because of it, but we met some interesting knitters who are practically professional yarnbombers. I think the fact we drove in from out of town may have inspired a yarnbombing event. We may have a small horde of knitters descend upon us to decorate the urban fixtures around us soon!

It was also a day of firsts, as dkzack experienced not one, but two yarn shops, for the first time.

Good gracious, she may never be the same.

Our first stop was The Loop in NW Calgary, on their grand opening event. Since we didn't arrive until the afternoon, we had missed the big rush (apparently, there was a line up outside that morning), but there were still fantastic deals to be had. 15% off? Yeah, baby!

Yarn shops can be really intimidating the first time you go... so much yarn, so many things to look at... your mind starts to spin in panic over what you could possible make with this stuff. You are reluctant to walk away, though, because you know you'll regret it later. This being dkzack's first time, Tara and I were happy to let her have time to think. I mean, how hard would it be to convince us to hang around longer in a yarn store, huh?

Of course, since the first store left her so bewildered, we decided that the best remedy for dkzack was to go to another one!

Off we zoomed across town to Gina Brown's, a fantastic yarn shop with a LOT of stock. I think the initial sight of the size of this place might have frightened dkzack even more, but she was quickly calmed by the organization of the shop. All the yarn is organized clearly by weight (most yarn shops are, but not nearly as well as Gina Brown's), and there is a lot of each kind of yarn. You can easily walk away with a sweater's worth of yarn all in the same dye lot, which you can't always do in a lot of modern yarn shops.

So, Tara and I had a good time figuring out projects for dkzack. She walked away with some beauties, as did Tara.

And me? Well, I scoffed at the idea of bringing home more yarn...

I almost cracked my computer screen with the rate my nose was growing at just there.

Here are two skeins of Cascade Ultra Pima in a gorgeous shade of silver from Gina Brown's. I have a beautiful drapey shawl in mind for this.

These three just had to come home with me, all Mirasol Tupa, a 50/50 blend of merino wool and silk... *shiver* so lovely! Those two skeins of black aren't quite black. They're such an interesting colour, kind of like the colour that permanent black marker makes when you scribble on shiny cardstock.

And these... oh these...

I just could not walk away from this yarn. It's DROPS Alpaca, and it is SO soft. When I first touched these, my head practically spun around in circles looking for Tara or dkzack to find them so that I could make them touch it. Each time I touch it, it makes me smile. I need to be completely surrounded by this stuff!

Anyway, after a long day in the city, we drove home (I almost got us killed by trying to overtake a big truck that didn't see us, but I think the others are over it by now). It was a quieter drive home, the three of us worn out from our adventures, but the drive was entertaining as my passengers fondled their purchases (dkzack, you stay away from my yarn bag!).

Later on, I Tweeted and Plurked the following:

So happy with my yarn purchases today that I may sleep with them under my pillow.

And a couple of my followers wanted to see that. So, this afternoon, I took a nap:

Anyway, this is actually one the first of three adventures for the three of us this month. Stay tuned for our next adventure: Olds Fibre Week!

Prepping for the Tribe

2011-06-10T20:19:00.006-06:00

Do you KIP/CIP? Do you wanna? You should. Everyone's doing it tomorrow.

KIP means Knit In Public, and CIP (if you haven't already worked it out) means Crochet In Public. These are activities I do pretty much every single day, but for some people, it's not the norm. I suppose it might have something to do with self-consciousness of being seen doing a "matronly" thing. Or maybe it's just not cool. Or maybe it's just not convenient, I dunno.

Tomorrow, June 11, is World Wide Knit in Public Day, and some friends and I are heading into the city to go and check out an event organized by The Calgary Foundation in honour of this day. It also happens to coincide with The Loop's Yarn Store Grand Opening, and the Hand Weavers, Spinners and Dyers Guild conference. It's a veritable yarn nerd's paradise!

Earlier this week, I started working on the Semele shawl, but about 30 rows in, I realized I'd made a big mistake, and decided to bail out before the shawl got too big. Luckily, I had only managed to knit a small corner of the shawl by this point. Rather than starting over, I figured that I should find a project to take with me for KIP Day that would allow me to hold a conversation whilst knitting, rather than spending my time squinting at a chart and muttering quietly to myself as I normally do when I start a new lace project.

That'll be easy, I thought. I'll just use some of that organic cotton that's been sitting in my basket and whip something up.

That was two days ago. Easier said than done.

This weakness of mine for variegated yarns is well-documented in this blog, but it's seriously starting to get me in trouble. I'm forever searching for projects to make these pretty skeins of yarn work without looking like clown vomit, and well... it's frustrating.

I tried two different projects:

Holding Hands Feeding Ducks, a star stitch pattern. I worked about four rows and then decided it wasn't working with these colours.

The Step Ribbed Stole, a ribbed pattern. I would have continued with this if I'd cast on more stitches, but I think that the ribbing was getting lost in the colours, and it wouldn't have been worth carrying on.

This morning, while swimming, my mind wandered through images of things I'd seen made with variegated cotton yarns. Then, I thought of the famous Baby Surprise Jacket. (Apologies for all the links, but I don't have permission to use any of the photos.)

What's so great about this pattern is that the lines of the jacket change directions at strong angles, breaking up the colours of variegated yarn into interesting shapes. I knew I didn't want to make the jacket (at least, not right now), but I did want to take advantage of the idea of using that same kind of textured stitch (garter stitch) and the strong angles.

I've decided to put together a throw blanket using the stitch pattern for Not a Celebrity Scarf, and some mitered squares. I don't normally make blankets, but this beautiful soft yarn is just crying out to be cuddled on a cold day. I'm only a few rows in, but I'm liking the result so far. And the best part?

It's so freaking easy!

I wonder if I'll be the only knitter there who stressed about what project to bring along? I have a feeling I won't be, but I don't know if anyone would admit it.

Ah, but who cares. I can't wait to sit with other members of my tribe tomorrow!

From Mouse to Flower

2011-06-08T18:16:00.010-06:00

When you were a kid, do remember the felt that you used to make Christmas crafts at school? Did you make a reindeer with a red nose, or some stripey candy canes? Do you remember cutting the shapes with your round edge scissors, sometimes ripping the last little piece apart because you couldn't get it cut?

I was always really confused by felt. I mean, I didn't sit at my desk with a perplexed look on my face when it was placed in front of me. I just didn't know what it was. Why felt? Why not cloth? What's so special about this stuff?

Well, the stuff I would've used as a kid was probably made from acrylic or viscose, leftovers from plastic manufacturing, which is probably how all those bright colours were created. It was only a few years ago that I understood from where felt actually originated: the matting together of wool fibres to create a dense fabric. Sometimes, this is done by laying it out damp and rolling it over and over, sometimes it's done with needles, and, in the case of the Mad Hatter, it is done by chewing the fibres together. The resulting fabric is strong, retains its hygroscopic properties, and is now resistant to shrinking (since it has already shrunk once).

I did my first felted project this weekend, but I didn't chew it (in case you were wondering).

The felting I attempted (and I say attempted because I think I could have done it better) is technically a type of felting called fulling. It's where you knit or crochet a piece in wool yarn, and then you commit three cardinal wool sins to it:

1) You dunk it in really hot water.
2) You agitate the heck out of it.
3) You shock it with cold water afterwards.

This encourages the fibres to splay out and then mat together to create a more dense fabric with less stretch. It shrinks down so that there is no air in it, and if you do it long enough, you should lose the definition of each stitch.

I based my project on a pattern from this Michaels project page. I finished knitting them on Sunday night, and then decided I'd try to felt them then.

The majority of the instructions I found used a washing machine. That kind of bothered me, because these were tiny little pieces, and I didn't want to use up a bunch of water to try to accomplish this in my washing machine. Surely someone had attempted this before the invention of washing machines...

I had to search a while until I could find some instructions for felting by hand. I filled a basin with hot water, added a little dishwashing liquid, and dropped the pieces in. I got out a metal slotted spoon and starting sloshing and stirring, humming a little tune until I'd agitated for about five minutes.

I pulled them out, and they didn't look much different. More agitation, I thought. I dunked the pieces in some cold water to shock them, and then dropped them in again, along with some decorative glass marbles I have sitting in a jar in my dining room.

Slosh, slosh, rattle, rattle...

Not much change after another five minutes. Cold water shock, refreshed the hot water, did it some more...

After another ten minutes, I could see some progress being made. There were more fuzzy fibres, and some of the definition starting to blur. Ok, now we're talking, I said.

After another fifteen minutes, I'm ashamed to say that I ran out of patience. I took the pieces out and rinsed them in cold water and examined them in the light of the bathroom. Hmmm, I thought. I wonder what would happen if...

I picked up two of the pieces and started to rub them together, right sides together. The fibres started to separate and fuzz. I rubbed them more vigorously for a few minutes, and when I pulled them apart, I had two pieces of felt. Hey, cool, I thought.

Ten minutes later, after rubbing these pieces together with each other, front and back, I had some felted petals.

Well, kind of, anyway.

I left them to dry for a day and a half, and there was some shrinkage, which was good.

I sewed the pieces together last night, then pulled out some of my old jewelry-making supplies and sewed on some beads. I attached a hair separator to the back of it, and voila:

New shawl pin for me!

I think the next felted project I do should be bigger, so I can feel ok about using a washing machine on it. I might get a truer felted object. I'm still really pleased with this, even if it's a bit lopsided.

I have to admit, though, I was tempted to bring one of those mouse-like pieces to work and to leave it in someone's drawer. Think of the screams! Ha!

I'm not that cruel. Well... maybe I'm just not that brave. Who knows what the retaliation would be...?

Inspiration Mondays: The Box of Tinker Toys

2011-06-06T19:04:00.006-06:00

When you were a kid, do you remember going to the doctor's office, or the house of a friend of the family, and do you remember being sat down in front of a box of tinker toys or other such building playthings and been told to amuse yourself until the grownups were ready for you?

I kinda feel like that today. I have plenty of nice things to play with and inspire me today, but I'm not sure what to do with them. And I feel like I can't really get up and do other things until I make something out of them, or until my mommy comes and tells me it's time to go home.

Here are some random sights in and around my house today:

A cushion with pins from a recent jacket refit stuck into it. It reminds me of a map with destinations marked on it.

The felted petals of a flower I'm trying to make. They look like mice being chased by a pair of scissors... "Three blind mice... see how they run..."

The hostas that are beginning to poke out and unfurl from the ground, like unraveling scrolls carried by a scribe in a rush.

Purple and yellow irises competing with the daylillies for attention.

The buds of a plant whose name escapes me. Doesn't it look like kitten toes? (And no, I don't think it's the plant nicknamed "pussy toes." Those grow next to this one.)

Bleeding hearts that look like they are dripping colour onto ornamental onions.

Perhaps it's because these things are so interesting to look at that I am at a loss for words. All I can think of are the smooth shapes and bold colours that are surrounding me. Maybe that's enough... to just soak them in without comment.

So, I won't comment. I think I'll let them carry on saturating my brain until the inspiration evolves into creativity. I'm pretty sure they'll get there.

Finger Metrics

2011-06-04T18:00:00.000-06:00

Have you ever been on a really long drive somewhere? One that is days long, where you have to drive for hours and hours each day, looking forward to the end when you can get out, stretch your legs and look at something else apart from the road in front of you?

That's kinda what making this top was like.

It's finished, though, and I'm really happy with it.

In my last post about it, I had decided that the neckline was way too high, and I ripped back to about two inches past the armholes to lower it. It was a bit of a gamble... I didn't really do any concrete measurements. I just stood in front of the mirror and used my fingers to figure out where the important parts should hit.

"So, here's where the bust darts end," I muttered. "And I want the neck to go about here. And so I need to start about a third of a finger length above the dart. Is that an inch? Yeah, about an inch. And the armholes will start an inch above that..."

I turned, poked, prodded, twisted, held up the fabric to my body... all very imprecise, but I know how I like my tops to fit.

I also decided to make the arms a touch longer, but not too long. I used my fingers to measure that, too... about one index finger long (about three inches).

I added half a finger of length to the torso.

The height of the sleeve cap is about a hand tall (from base of palm to tip of middle finger) plus half a finger.

And ya know, it fits. How's that for finger rulers?

I wonder if that's how a lot early seamstresses, tailors, milliners and cobblers did it. I mean, it's a finger. You always have it with you (I hope so, anyway), and it remains about the same length for most of your adult life. And it's not like you can stretch a finger out of shape, either... but I guess you can't really stretch a ruler or tape measure either.

But they're not as weird to measure with.

What kinds of weird objects do you use to measure with?