the sound of one hand knitting

Ennui

2008-07-19T13:31:00.000-07:00

Patient of the Week : her name is Gorgeous. She comes in for hydrotherapy.
Been anxious/depressed the last few weeks, so my limited ability to focus has been employed towards the essentials : eating, sleeping, showing up at work, breathing. Some days I couldn't even knit, imagine that.
I'm getting better.

June 4, 1968

2008-06-04T15:07:00.000-07:00

Everyone but me had left the dorm for the summer, and I liked being alone in the house at 913 West Franklin. The only other person I knew still on campus was the overnight switchboard operator, who listened to the radio in the little glass room that used to be a conservatory, in the Ad. Building, former residence of the Ginters.
I am a sound sleeper, and it took a long time for the hall phone to wake me late that night. All Rick said was "They shot Kennedy. Bring your tv."
I put on shorts and a tshirt, picked up the small black and white tv from the parlor, and walked barefoot to the end of the block. Walter Cronkite came on wearing no makeup - he has a lot of freckles - and we watched the tape for the first time.

Lace Experiment

2008-05-14T17:15:00.000-07:00

My artistic director tells me I've been slacking lately, so here's what I've been working on.

I've rethunk the shawl that defeated me a few months ago. A rectangular confection will be more versatile, and the vine lace pattern from Barbara Walker's first book doesn't make me want to scream and rip up the project. Of course I did a swatch, to make sure I could do it, and I keep the swatch close by for encouragement, since lace in progress looks crappy. The pattern can be easily worked while chatting with the knitting peeps at the Yarn Lounge, or while keeping my artistic director company during her children's baseball games. It should not be attempted during a pedicure, or during an episode of House.

Heirloom Lemon

2008-04-05T09:33:00.000-07:00

In a casual phone conversation with my artistic director, it was mentioned that a lemon purchased in, I believe, 1971, was still in my refrigerator. This was not absentmindedness, or slovenly housekeeping, though both descriptions are accurate. This lemon was acquired with other groceries with a specific picnic in mind. My boyfriend at the time was an English gentleman named Terry. He knew how to throw a picnic - the lemon, accidently left behind, was intended for the shrimp cocktail.The night before, Terry roasted an eye round of beef to pink perfection for the sandwiches. It was a beautiful day; I wore my best jeans and favorite t-shirt. Terry, being an English gentleman, wore creased dress pants, a crisp cotton shirt, and a lovely tie - I think it had silver stripes.

Anyway, Emily thought it was blogworthy.

Dyeing and Felting Made Easy

2008-03-25T15:55:00.000-07:00

Step one : Let your dog eat some wool. What with one thing and another, it will felt with no effort on your part. Bile from the liver will provide the dye.

Step two : This is the awkward part. Pay four thousand dollars or so for surgery to retrieve the wool. Wash and enjoy!

( Since I am able to see the funny side to this, you may be assured this did not happen to either of my dogs. )

Same Socks Different Day

2008-02-25T16:50:00.000-08:00

These would have been added to yesterday's post, but Blogger won't let me edit. Anj sent me this photo of her sock on her foot. I wish I could get artistic lighting like this. Sigh.

I Am the Groundhog, Koo Koo Ka Choo

2008-02-24T16:21:00.001-08:00

This time of year, I emerge briefly, glance around, assess my current mental, emotional and spiritual state, then go back underground for At Least six weeks. Doesn't mean I haven't been knitting.

Rudy needed a sweater. He has one now. Pattern from Dogs in Knits. Yarn is Tahki Donegal Tweed in Lime.

Angela, my English friend, needed warm socks to go with the Crocs I gave her. Stitch pattern is the twin rib in Sensational Knitted Socks. Yarn is Scarlet Fleece in Persimmon from the Loopy Ewe.

Recipe Box

2008-01-03T03:14:00.000-08:00

Mason-Dixon Knitting is terribly inspiring, don't you think? The latest fun thing is to to display one's recipe box. Here's mine. Vintage 70's avocado plastic,with a large slot on the lid to hold the 3 X 5 cards. Also shown : a recipe from my roomie at the time, Rachel.

Christmas Traditions

2007-12-28T15:20:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid, I'd wake up in the middle of the night at Christmas, sneak downstairs, and open all my presents. At first I was very careful to peel the tape from the wrapping paper, so I could reconstruct the scene. Eventually, when I got too old to spank, I just ripped them open.

I still do that. It's the only Christmas tradition that survived my childhood. More have been acquired, however. An old friend gave me a copy of Dylan Thomas' A Child's Chistmas in Wales, and I like to re-read it every year. The most accessible tradition for the many folks who read my blog - all three of you - is a story that NPR broadcasts at Christmas. Short and sweet. I recommend it. I can't seem to provide a link, seeing as Machines Are All Against Me, so Google John Henry Faulk's Christmas Story. (So there, stupid computer.)

Soon is Relative, and Ambiguous

2007-12-09T15:47:00.000-08:00

So. Lately I've been busy working, preparing for work, recovering from work, you know the story. Plus various mechanical, electronic, and karmic malfunctions, eating time and causing frustration. For example, Friday evening I had dinner with my mother. After months of silence, she suddenly started phoning me and asking me when I was going to come to dinner. When I ran out of excuses, I agreed to show up. Conversation was a poorly edited movie, directed perhaps by Woody Allen. Whatever I asked her, she answered whatever question was in her head at the time. I've learned to go along with whatever seems real to her, even if it means that " You must be dreaming" if I remember giving her a computer. She thinks she's good at covering her senility,and it scares her when she gets confused, so we go with the flow to avoid tantrums. She used to be like Livia on the Sopranos, but she was quite mellow Friday.

As I sat there thinking at least I'll get points for accepting her dinner invitation, she asked " What made you decide to call me after all this time? " Conversation was sparse after I reminded her that she called me. Oh well.

On a positive note, I've discovered a website that lets you cancel the mail catalogs you don't want to receive anymore. I read about it on Mason-Dixon Knitting.
www.catalogchoice.org

Soon

2007-11-27T17:03:00.000-08:00

Very soon.

If You Want Something Visual

2007-11-05T15:48:00.000-08:00

Chichester Cathedral
Millenium Bridge, London
Market Day in La Rochefoucauld, France
Eiffel Tower from the Ferris wheel
Fabric shop in Montmartre, Paris.Takes up a city block.Made me wish I could sew. Bought buttons instead.
Chichester Cathedral again. Not really sideways.Marc Chagall did this window in 1978.
Signpost for hikers on the South Downs, southern England.
As I took the signpost photo, I had to brace myself against the wind. The fog and mist turned into needles of horizontal rain,and I congratulated myself on braving the elements in the deserted wilderness. Then a car pulled up, a cheerful couple got out, unstrapped their mountain bikes, and rolled off into the weather.

Hey Neighbor

2007-10-29T14:15:00.000-07:00

I can't call you cause the phone died. I took it to the Virgin store and the girl behind the counter looked at me pityingly and said they don't make these old ones anymore. I could get a new one for £14 but since the exchange rate sucks, and since I'll be home before you know it,I figured I'd wait. I decided to console myself with a new cd, so with my fingers in my ears, I took the escalator up to the third floor (tho they call it the 2nd) and pushed open the glass doors segregating the refined ( and deserted ) classical section from the lower floors. Not that I'm a snob; I do a fine air guitar to Warren Zevon's Lawyers Guns and Money. Anyway I treated myself to a little something, and proceeded to Food for Thought, that vegetarian restaurant where I chatted with William H. Macy a couple of visits ago. I almost bought a ticket to Spamalot, then realized I'd never stay awake that long. That reminds me... I'm sleepy...in the newspaper tonight, a poll said that Heathrow is the worst airport to fly out of, followed by Chicago's O'Hare. Great. I'll be going thru both of them any day now.

A Word to the Wise

2007-10-26T02:45:00.000-07:00

Several, actually.

1) Don't take the train into or out of Paris, before, during, or after a rail strike.

2) The same goes for the duration of the Rugby World Cup finals, when played in Paris.

3) While in Paris, do make friends with a French-speaking English couple with 4 young, rambunctious children, and accompany them everywhere. The Musee D'Orsay will never be the same. Don't pass up the Ferris wheel in the Tuilleries, even if the 11 year old insists on making the open cage spin concentrically while ascending vertically. End the day with a delicious, leisurely dinner - geez them French folks know how to cook! - and thank your lucky stars you don't speak French or you wouldn't have had nearly as much fun.

That's it for the travel advice column today, kids. I'm in Petworth, in the South Downs region of UK, ready to assault local museums and antique shops.

I Miss My Dogs

2007-10-17T14:24:00.000-07:00

I could travel forever if it didn't take me away from the hounds. And, of course, if it didn't take money.Having a house-sitter helps with the dogs; only the lottery could solve the enough money problem.

Sigh.

Be that as it may, I'm in London, after a flight that was no more exhausting and anxiety-producing than usual. The bed and breakfast is in Chiswick (Chizzick) outside the downtown area : cute row houses, tree-lined streets. I haven't actually done anything yet, just walked around, checked out Camden Passage street market (did not resemble the AmEx ad with what's-her-name) and a yarn shop called Loop a bit up the hill. Nice. Small. Limited. No circular needles in size zero, hrumph.

I'll have computer access for another day, at least. Maybe I'll actually do something tomorrow.

Minor Acquisition

2007-10-14T13:06:00.000-07:00

At the Montpelier Fiber Festival last week, I didn't expect to buy anything. But tucked in a corner in a small basket were mill ends of Koigu sock yarn, and I grabbed a handful. Then I got a really good price on these teeny earrings at the Lofty Llama's going-out-of-business sale.

Snatching Victory from the Jaws of Lucy

2007-09-29T06:31:00.000-07:00

I was pretty happy with the way this sock turned out, except for the cuff, which was too loose, and the heel, for the colors. Lucy chewed on just those areas. With the advice and encouragement of the Yarn Lounge wunderknittichers Melanie and Stewart, I reknit the cuff with 000 needles instead of 0's, and constructed an afterthought heel.The new version is modeled by Asia, who is a houseguest this week.

Patients and Pirates

2007-09-19T17:14:00.000-07:00

Here we have Delilah the basset hound, with one of my esteemed colleagues.

Today was Talk Like a Pirate Day, so I swaggered into work and greeted the receptionist with "Avast, me hearties". She thought I said "I've lost my car keys" and our conversation rolled away in two different directions. Hilarity ensued until we untangled ourselves.

September

2007-09-15T15:19:00.000-07:00

I've been so depressed lately I forgot to celebrate the anniversary of my first Beatles concert.

I'm not at my best this time of year. The cool breezes put me in mind of Januaries past. I'm uneasy and restless, perhaps from some genetic migratory urge, and Back to School sale ads fill me with dread beyond the usual trauma of actually going back to school.

My best winter memory is from when I lived in my former abode. I'd make bread from scratch, put the pans into the oven, then go out and split logs for the wood stove. When I came back in, warmed up and teeming with endorphins, the smell of baking bread was heaven.

Long Weekend

2007-09-03T16:06:00.000-07:00

The only way this weekend could have been more perfect is if Robert Redford had shown up, with his old face, the one that wasn't melted.

Sunshine is settling in nicely, and she enjoyed having five houseguests around, all of the greyhound persuasion, of course.

The Yarn Lounge has some lovely new sock yarn, and Pagewood Farm yarn is as new as it gets. This is the first wool/bamboo blend I've indulged in. It's the red ball in the photos.

Way Out of the Loop

2007-08-29T06:43:00.000-07:00

Last week gave my first dinner party in my house. I've only lived here 15 years. Saturday my new dog, Sunshine, arrived from the Florida track. Finished a sock and Lucy chewed the cuff and heel; everybody's a critic. Yesterday got new contact lenses (that don't fit), and was told I'm developing cataracts, tho it will be years before surgery is necessary. This morning, the dentist replaced 2 fillings that wore out. And I'm writing this at the library because the internet is on vacation at my house. Service man due tonight. Updates and photos as soon as the whirlwind stops. Now, I mustn't forget to stop by the desk and pick up the book that's on hold for me. Franklin, the Panopticon, recommended it recently. Can't resist a good German soap-opera.

Remake Alert

2007-08-19T15:08:00.000-07:00

As part of my Personal Life's Mission, it is my duty to inform all who care to listen when they make a new version of a fine old movie. In this case, it's 3:10 to Yuma. This is my favorite western. Instead of Van Heflin and Glenn Ford, they've got Christian Bale and Russell Crowe. Interesting choices, and I'll probably go see it, but how can they improve upon the original? I ask you. So. It's not too late, if you are among the unfortunate few who haven't seen the 1957 flick, to rent it now.

Shawl? What Shawl?

2007-08-11T13:17:00.000-07:00

Here's the zigzag sock I've been working on in odd moments. I'm just about to turn the heel. When finished, it's bound to fit someone... somewhere...

Can This Shawl Be Saved?

2007-08-09T17:40:00.000-07:00

Or, I Went to Art College Because I Couldn't Do Math

I wanted a serious shawl; one that I could wrap around me, and tuck in, or tie. I couldn't tell how wide the little darlin' was on my 24" #6 circular needles, so I used all of my #6 needles to see just how wide this baby was. Astounding. Slightly bunched, although I had originally planned to block it when finished, the widest part of this shawl is over nine feet long.

Looking on the bright side, tomorrow I'll be going to the Yarn Lounge. Stewart and Melanie, and maybe even Janice, will Make it All Better, one way or another. And Homer, he helps me in so many ways.

Patient of the Day

2007-08-08T18:50:00.000-07:00

OK he wasn't a paying customer, but don't you love his color sense?

This is the New Color of the Porch Floor

2007-08-04T13:14:00.000-07:00

Occasionally, I have a feeling that can only be described as the certainty of impending doom. OK, more than occasionally. Mostly it's just random, non-specific anxiety. This morning I had a bad feeling as I prepared for a jaunt to Home Depot, for porch floor paint. I picked up the camera as an afterthought.

The checkout lady put the gallon can on the counter, more off than on, and I watched in fascination as it slowly tilted, then fell, striking the floor along the upper edge, which caused the lid to pop off and shoot out a few feet, then roll drunkenly for a few more. The main body of paint unfolded itself from the can. It was ballet. It was tai chi. It was performance art. The best part was, it wasn't my fault, and I didn't get any on me.

Anxiety was instantly dispersed. Another gallon was procured, and the first coat was on the porch floor by the time Car Talk was over. The color is called Terrace View. I really like it.

Anger Makes Me Tired

2007-08-02T17:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I got called into the Principal's Office, so to speak, and belittled for stupid stuff. It was not criticism, nor correction. It was not a conversation between adults. It was blahblahblah from someone who doesn't belong in management, or anywhere near people.

I was annoyed at myself for not being able to immediately laugh it off. At home, my friend Ruth called (not her real name.) She loves to give advice. She said that when she was here the other day, she noticed that My Dog is Fat. She Needs to go on a Diet.

The Nerve.

Fortunately, last night was tai chi class. We meditate for half an hour, fling ourselves around loosening and warming our joints, then learn some new moves. I slept like a baby afterwards, and woke up before Lucy came bounding up the stairs to jump on the bed and lick my underarms.

Still, I feel the need for a change of scene. For someone else to cook and wash the dishes. To spend money that looks like play money, so it doesn't seem like I'm spending money at all.

An Embarrassing Moment

2007-07-27T16:11:00.000-07:00

But not my Most embarrassing moment. That would be the time the new young doctor at Patients First walked into the exam room without knocking. I was naked. That was merely annoying. Then he looked up from the chart and screamed.

That seems funny now. The story of the green sock yarn still makes me cringe.

A Londoner, on an online knitting group, wanted moss green Lang Jawoll to make the zigzag socks I'd also been wanting to start on. The only source didn't ship to the UK. I was getting ready to go to England on vacation. I offered to get an extra skein when I made my order, and bring it to her. We agreed to meet outside the Victoria and Albert Museum and have lunch at the cafe.

I don't remember if I was under an unusual amount of personal stress during that time, or if it was just jet lag, which always affects me profoundly, no matter what remedy or prevention I attempt.

I started to cry into my tomato soup in the busy but relatively quiet museum cafe. Between choked sobs, I tried to apologize, but I just could not stop crying. The yarn recipient, being English, murmured soothing things, and acted like she always lunched with folks who kept handfuls of paper napkins pressed to their faces. The people around us took no notice, except for the discreet, momentary flicker of eyes our way.

There is a vague memory of being in the gift shop, and then I was striding down the street, taking deep breaths. I don't remember the lady's name, but she did pay me for the yarn, and gave me some of her handmade soap. Of course, I never heard from her again.

That was at least five years ago. I've finally started those socks.

Thanks for Asking, Ande

2007-07-19T17:31:00.000-07:00

Ande of Knit and the City went out of her way to express interest in the current condition of Sven, my Volvo, and my front porch. Sven has a new ignition coil, which was my mechanic's next guess after the fuel relay. If Sven has a relapse, we'll try something else. Eek. I drive with eyes peeled for likely places to pull out of traffic on short notice. Keeps one alert.

Porchwise, I'm more than halfway finished painting the white, vertical stuff : railings and lattice, it takes forever, it makes you crazy, these little bits, all corners, all edges. Then I can do the floor in an hour or two. The effort resumes this weekend, when the temps are no longer expected to be near 100.

The shawl progresses. No one is more surprised than I. There's also a sock in the works, because I get to change one color every four rows. Quite takes my breath away. The pattern is the Zigzag Socks from Vogue Knitting Socks. I'm using Jawoll instead of the Wildfoote called for. I've wanted to start these for years, but an embarrassing incident, to be chronicled in the next post, has held me back.

Janet Evanovich has a new Stephanie Plum novel out. There's always one passage in each book that makes me quite helpless with laughter. I thought I had found it while sitting at dinner - I had to push my plate away and put my head down on the table. But yesterday, at work, as I walked from the lunchroom to the timeclock, a sentence caught me offguard and I nearly fell to my knees. It takes all my self-control not to tell you what it was.

Ande! Congratulations on the promotion!

2007-07-08T16:31:00.000-07:00

( I don't know why Blogger won't let me title this post. )
A most unusual week. Wood for the porch floor was purchased and primed; this morning Handy Phil said he'd be here between 8 and 9 - he arrived at 8:15, despite the international contractors' motto that says We Never Show Up. ( I did not make this up. It's a Dave Barry-ism. ) There is now a complete floor on the porch. With all the scraping, cleaning, and priming of the rest of it, all I have to do now is the actual painting. This may not seem like much of an accomplishment, but to me it is. Painting is the easy part. The fun part. It's all downhill from here... famous last words...

As for Sven, he is in the shop again, after cutting off in traffic again. It's too traumatic; I can't talk about it. The only amusing part is the view from the waiting area at the car rental place on Broad Street.

Wicker Man

2007-06-30T15:24:00.000-07:00

When they do a remake of a movie, it is my habit to run right out and see the original. Undeterred by the terrible reviews given the Nicholas Cage version, I got the one with Edward Woodward.

The other attractions were Christopher Lee, and ... Scotland. I had hopes that the effect on me would be like that of Local Hero - at the end of that movie I wanted to get up, leave the tv on, leave the door unlocked, and Go To Scotland.

Disappointment. It was made in 1973, and Christopher Lee's wig looked like Sally Field's from Steel Magnolias. His costumes were awful, and got worse when he led the May Day procession in a granny gown and Elvira wig.

Oh well, I can always catch Edward Woodward in Breaker Morant and reruns of The Equalizer.

Patient of the Day

2007-06-28T15:13:00.000-07:00

Rupert the Chicken was on his way to the local Tyson processing plant, riding in one of those rolling poultry prisons, on route 288. Somehow, he got out of his crate and escaped, injuring a wing when he landed on the highway. Along comes one of our intrepid vet assistants, on her way to work. She scoops up poor Rupert and continues on her way.

He has his own recuperation suite, with all the chickenfeed he can eat, and various delicacies to tempt his appetite. His rescuer takes him out for fresh air several times a day, and encourages him to choose his own worms from the yard. He sticks close to his human, tho; we think he has been an indoor chicken from birth.

When Rupert's wing has healed, he will live out his days on a nearby farm. Don't you love happy endings?

The Roz Blanket

2007-06-27T17:25:00.000-07:00

Due to popular demand ( an off-hand query by Chesley ) I'm blogging again.

Roz is a serious fiber person : she deals with sheep for a living. A dozen or so denizens of the Yarn Lounge, plus owner Stewart, conspired to make The Roz Blanket. Melanie, despite her misgivings about having thirteen different components, stitched it all together and added the border. Sunday afternoon was the presentation. Roz suspected nothing, even when we raised glasses of champagne to her. Then, (photo one) she notices the blanket ( or did we decide it was really a throw? ). All but one of the strips are perfectly beautiful. I was going for the folk art look, myself, and the concept might be described as a design flaw. But there's as much love in my bit as everyone else's. The other photos are of some of the relevant celebrants.

Intermezzo

2007-06-16T17:06:00.000-07:00

While the weather has been tolerable, I've been attending to outdoor chores, very pleased with myself at the progress I've made, and at the number of things that are being crossed off the list.

Then I found a soft patch on the porch floor. And another. I think I've discovered them all now, and a coworker's husband is coming over soon to See What Can Be Done. He doesn't seem to think it's a big deal. I wish I felt that way.

WWII Trivia : Happy B-Day Lucy

2007-06-04T17:13:00.000-07:00

Field Marshall Rommel was in charge of the coastal defenses in France. The Germans didn't know exactly where, or exactly when, the Allies would try to invade Europe. Things looked pretty calm the first few days of June, so Rommel took the weekend off and went home to celebrate the birthday of his wife, Lucy, on June 4. He was a little late getting back to work on Monday, and without him, D-Day turned out better for us than it might have.

Current Reading

2007-05-29T17:38:00.000-07:00

Scary stories are not my bag. Life is sufficiently frightening to me, without going out and looking for sources of anxiety.

A couple of years ago, on a dark and stormy night, I arrived at a small seaside town, described to me as charming, atmospheric, and old. Whitby is on two steep hills, divided by a snug little harbour. From the window in my B&B near the top of one hill, I could look across the harbour to the ruined abbey on top of the other hill. While I was there I learned that Bram Stoker ( is that a cool name or what )wrote Dracula there, and that the town itself is a prominent part of the story.

It is, indeed, charming. I spent several days there wandering the streets,and walking along the cliffs over the sea, on well-marked paths that are part of a huge National Park.

Fast forward. This past weekend I babysat two greyhounds I hadn't met before. The little girl was named Mina, after one of the girls in Dracula. I seemed to remember that her friend in the book was Lucy, which (insert creepy background music) is the name of my female greyhound. So I'm reading Dracula. I was right about the names. I can't remember which of the girls survives. Guess I'll find out.

Embroidered FO

2007-05-27T17:36:00.000-07:00

This is my part of Anne's project. Her plan is to construct a tote bag, and each person who stitches a name gets to use it for awhile, then pass it on to another contributor.

Inspired by a Chair

2007-05-13T16:50:00.000-07:00

Charles Rennie Mackintosh was from Glasgow. He designed stuff. Looking at a photo of a chair of his, I saw my next project. It is to be hoped that I have the perseverance to complete the shawl that is in my head. The yarn is Elann's Peruvian Highland Silk in Allspice, a lovely gold. I cast on 511 stitches on two number 7 needles, using two separate balls of yarn for the long tail cast on. I'm doing the knitting on Inox teflon-coated number 6 circulars. Updates as they occur.

Mothers' Day Project

2007-05-07T16:11:00.000-07:00

Franklin's blog mentioned Anne's Mothers' Day Project and I signed up for it.here is the link. I think. Still don't know why the name won't come up. Sigh.

WTF Wed,. May 2

2007-05-02T14:29:00.000-07:00

In London there are lots of old cemeteries, some big like Highgate, some so teeny you wouldn't know they were there if you weren't looking for them. Bunhill Fields has traffic and office buildings all around it, but once you're in the gate, the old walls and trees make an Alice-through-the-looking-glass contrast. There are famous folks buried there like Daniel Defoe and William Blake, but this is my favorite. The inscription reads :

In 67 months she was tapd 66 times
Had taken away 240 gallons of water
Without ever repining at her case
Or ever fearing the operation

Hey Roz!

2007-04-29T13:35:00.000-07:00

How's it going? Did you get a lot of knitting done today? It was so crowded, I didn't even get to see what everyone was working on. Maybe I should arrive earlier, hmmm. Say hello to all the sheepies for me. See ya.

New Toy

2007-04-27T17:09:00.000-07:00

The May issue of Smithsonian Magazine has an article about a guy who uses his scanner like a camera. Which, I guess, is basically what it is. So I snipped an iris from the yard, covered it with a plastic dish, backlit it with a reading lamp, and hit the button.

WTF Wed. April 25

2007-04-25T15:32:00.000-07:00

While looking for something else in the bookcase, I came across this knitting book I forgot I had. Discovered in a used-book store in England, it has patterns from cute to bizarre. Wool underpants for little kids? ah, no thanks. Reprinted in 1949,and frustratingly devoid of an original publishing date, it probably appealed to the post-World War II Brits still dealing with shortages. (Britain had meat rationing until 1956.)Makes ya grateful, no?

This little round thingy was crumpled up on the grass at a yard sale this past Saturday. The embroidery looks quite old. The back is just like the front, only "loopier", perhaps to serve as a hotplate for something dainty, like a silver teapot. Cost a dollar.

Friday Eye Candy April

2007-04-20T18:20:00.000-07:00

Bought some stuff for the garden. Orange poppies, purple salvia, periwinkle clemantis. Not shown : zucchini, Better Boy tomatoes.

Also, current reading : The Landmark Trust Handbook. Very cool buildings in UK, very old, restored and fitted out for an alternative to b&b's. There are several that are small enough, and cheap enough, for one person. Hmm...

Snow on Tulips

2007-04-07T07:23:00.000-07:00

Photo taken this morning. You can't tell, but it was still snowing.

Gratitude

2007-04-04T15:28:00.000-07:00

(Photo of my front yard this afternoon, posted for no reason at all.)
There's a small cabinet next to my stove. Yesterday the paper towels rolled off the top, nestling among the dust bunnies on the floor behind the cabinet. This was momentarily irritating because, according to my housecleaning ethics, I was honor-bound to pull out the offending furniture and thoroughly clean the exposed area. I was resenting every nanosecond of the experience, when I had a flashback.

Spring Cleaning. When my brother and I were kids, we had to help Mom with spring cleaning. She cleaned the house from top to bottom. Everything pulled out of drawers and washed or cleaned. The drawers cleaned inside and outside and new liner installed. Bureaus without the drawers dusted. Walls washed. Floors. Drapes, curtains and sheers. Closets. The kitchen. It was no fun for any of us, and I worried that when I grew up, I would be burdening myself with this ritual as The Price of Being a Grownup.

I got over it. I'm so glad I'm a grownup. I still have to do tedious chores, but any obsessive compulsive behavior is my own. Did I mention she observed Fall Cleaning as well?

For Emily, Whenever I May Find Her

2007-04-02T17:00:00.000-07:00

She's back! Six weeks and four days. Feast your eyes, and say in unison with me, " o my god " and then laugh. That's what I do.
Let's go listen to some Simon and Garfunkel.

Horsey Stuff in the Country

2007-04-01T17:18:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I drove out to Ann's house in Hanover County. She has these things that horses jump over, bars held up by posts, and she wanted cartoon-type paintings on panels at either end. Sorry I can't explain it better than that. I'm a city girl.

Here's the fox and the hound. Here's the barn Ann and her husband are building. Here's an old shed down the road, and a birdhouse and a chimney.

The Emily Chair : Day 42

2007-03-29T17:06:00.000-07:00

Four weeks he said. Then he started saying one more week... Just one more... Next week for sure...Now I'm wondering if I'll ever see my beloved Emily chair again. Sniff.

Maybe this will teach me not to cling to material possessions, to be more spiritual, to get my priorities straight; to be more patient, more understanding, less controlling.

Nah. I'm pissed.

I could bite somebody's nose off.

Dude of the Day

2007-03-26T16:22:00.000-07:00

Karrie brought this guy to work yesterday. I think his feet are made of orange Jello.

FO, Dog and Bowls

2007-03-24T07:23:00.000-07:00

Another Orphan sweater is done. The colors may seem a bit random; this was actually a color study for a green-themed project to be started any minute now. The attendant bowls are recent acquisitions. The larger ceramic one was the last thing I saw in a second-hand shop down the street. It was in the bargain room at the very back. The owner was surprised to see it, and disappointed that his wife had marked it down to ten bucks. It's not a McCoy, but I like it. The smaller one is a cheap, non-sterling-plated find at the Cary St. thrift store. The classic shape caught my eye. Ninety-nine cents.
Cracker misses the Emily chair. The hyacinths are happy just to be alive.

The Emily Chair

2007-03-18T13:46:00.000-07:00

Emily used to be my next-door neighbor. When she got married and started a family, the house was too small, so she lives across town now, and we can't run in and out of each other's houses like we used to. No more phone alerts when she's locked her husband out of the house in his underwear.

Before they moved, Emily offered to sell me this chair. Very cheaply, I might add. I snatched that sucker right up. This is the best chair in the world. It's huge. My keys, if you can find them, are on the arm on the left of the photo. You can curl up and sleep in it. You can semi-recline, sitting sideways with your legs over the other arm. It gives me great comfort.

The dogs like it too, and what with one thing and another, it came to pass that the Emily Chair needed a makeover. I went to the upholstery fabric store, feeling a bit out of place in my scrubs among the well-dressed, expensively-coiffed, carefully madeup ladies whom, ( I suspect in my reverse snobbery ) to be redecorating their living rooms because they are bored with last season's color schemes. I wanted something sturdy that wouldn't show dirt. There were a lot of interesting choices - at least five different patterns included monkeys - but everything was either too sober or too delicate, until I saw the fabric that was born for the Emily chair. I laughed out loud. The salesman stifled his alarm. I can't show a photo because I've lost the swatch, and the upholstery guy they recommended is still working on the chair. He said it might take four weeks; it's been four weeks, three days and several hours. I really really want my Emily Chair back.

Home Sick

2007-03-12T13:01:00.000-07:00

I've been home all weekend with that gawd-awful stomach virus. As I slowly regained awareness of my surroundings, I wished for some slight diversion. The dogs are good for sympathy and keeping my feet warm, but not much else. Something soothing and amusing on TV was called for, but everything is stupid and/or violent. So I remembered some secondhand VHS movies I'd bought sometime ago, and put aside for just this situation.

Bend It Like Beckham is a charming movie. No bad guys. Nobody dies. When tension starts to build, Juliet Stevenson says something outrageously silly, like " Get your lesbian feet out of my shoes! " ( She's an all-time favorite; my last Netflix cd was an old mini-series of hers, The Polititian's Wife. )The ending is tidy and satisfying. Just The Thing. If I can figure out how to put a photo up, I will.

Time for another nap.

We Have a Winnah!

2007-03-11T13:20:00.000-07:00

The Yarn Lounge had a drawing to thank folks for contributing to Cate's afghans for Afghans effort. I won a gift card from them, and immediately cashed it in. Green is the color of the month (come on spring). I don't know how that glorious purple got into the bag.

Eye Candy Friday

2007-03-02T16:24:00.000-08:00

In London, you can take a tour of the formerly grand hotel attached to the old St. Pancras train station. It's heyday was in the 1880's and 90's if I remember rightly from the guide. Huge, rambling, and dusty. Some areas have been used for scenes in Harry Potter films, among others. Very Hogwartian feeling, though I haven't recognized anything specifically.

The entrance hall has murals of the Industries, and this is the best shot I could get of Spinning.

Current FOs and Current Reading/Listening

2007-02-24T07:17:00.000-08:00

These were added to the afghans for Afghans box yesterday. Most have been hanging around for some time, waiting for me to finish them.

Philadelphia Chickens - this speaks for itself.

Friday Shopping

2007-02-24T06:33:00.000-08:00

Gift certificates in hand, I schlepped to Southside. Free yarn is the only thing that will lure me to a yarn store I don't like. Arriving at the opening time, I found the door locked, the lights out. Hmm, maybe my watch was fast. I sat in my car for 5 or so minutes, then returned to see someone vacuuming, the door still locked, the wall clock showing it was past time for the door to be open and cold potential customers to be granted access.

The bead store next door was clearly being run by a non-slacker, so I browsed there and warmed up. Some little bell-like doodads caught my eye, and the shop lady helped me pick out the rings I needed to put together my own stitch markers. Small, light, easily seen. Rings were 50 cents each, bells were a dime each. (Barbie glasses included for scale.)

Back at the yarn store, I stocked up on Lamb's Pride. It was the only thing they had that I like.

WTF Wednesday

2007-02-21T14:11:00.000-08:00

And patient of the day.

Slow Hand

2007-02-20T17:05:00.000-08:00

It's a little-known fact that Eric Clapton got that nickname from the rate at which he produced knitted FOs.

I'm even slower.

Last Wednesday afternoon I read Brooklyn Tweed's Blog entry about a baby hat that he knitted in a couple of hours as a de-stressing exercise. It was the top down Hello Bonnet from Hello Yarn. The task seemed strange and simple. An odd cone-end skein of Louet Gems, procured at MS&W, was in one hand; my new rosewood Lantern Moon 5" Sox Stix in the other. The figure-8 cast on almost defeated me, especially after knitting the first round, when the instructions say Join in the Round. That had me stumped for awhile. After contemplation, I decided it was one a-them zen koan thangs, and kept on going. A most pleasant experience. My favorite part was the back of the head, where decreases allow the hat to hug the head and nape of the neck. I did seed stitch instead of garter for the border.

It was completed yesterday. Monday. Five days after beginning. Another offering for Cate's afghans for Afghans collection.

Eye Candy Friday

2007-02-16T15:55:00.000-08:00

Here's Cracker's nose.

Walk in the Country

2007-02-13T17:48:00.001-08:00

Once again, we dodged the worst of the latest winter storm. Still, it is February, the shortest, longest, most miserable month. So I cheer myself up with photos from my vacation this past October.

afghans for Afghans : a sweater

2007-02-08T14:20:00.000-08:00

I loved knitting this sweater.

It's the Orphans for Orphans sweater in Knitting for Peace. The one in the book was done in Green Mountain Spinnery Mountain Mohair, just about my favorite yarn. The front and back panels are knitted first, then stitches are picked up and knitted for the sides and sleeves. I opted for the 3-needle bind off for the side seams, and did the sleeves and cuffs in the round. Stripes on the sleeves made it easy to count decreases. Attempts were made to finish the neck edge as the pattern directed : one row single crochet, one row backward crochet. It looked pretty lame, and the photo in the book was suspiciously unenlightening. So I kept the row of single crochet, added a row of knitpurl, then did a sewn bind off. Cuffs and bottom edge were done in seed stitch, because it pleases me more than garter stitch.

This one is destined for Cate's afghans for Afghans effort, and I can hardly wait to start another one, in different colors, maybe a little fair isle or knitpurl pattern here and there, hmmm...

Flashback : 1964

2007-02-07T16:38:00.000-08:00

Emerging from my usual winter grumpslump, I want to give you whippersnappers a taste of what you missed by not being around in the sixties.

On this day 43 years ago, a lovely blizzard moved up the east coast. Schoolchildren stayed home and listened to the radio. Before the snow hit New York, the Beatles arrived at JFK, and Cousin Brucie on WABC talked about it all day long. "It's ten Beatle minutes after the hour and outside it's thirty-two Beatle degrees." They were driven to the Plaza in a Wells Fargo truck (I used to know the number) and the next day they took the train to Washington D.C. for a concert, then back to New York for the Ed Sullivan Show Sunday night.

Seven months later, I went to their concert at the Baltimore Civic Center. A modestly-sized venue, it held about 3500 people. You could see them; and hear them, if faintly. Tickets cost three dollars. My ticket stub is framed, and hangs on my kitchen wall.

Today I wore the pins pictured above, on my scrub top. One co-worker recognized them. The remainder of the folks I work with are illiterate Philistines. Being born after Lennon died is no excuse.

Victory From the Jaws of Defeat

2007-01-21T09:05:00.000-08:00

Or, Every Once in Awhile I Stop Fretting and Go With the Flow.

The Florence Shawl was first visualized about this time last year. I saw myself spinning the wonderful cashmere/silk fiber, which came to be. I saw myself knitting a Faorese shoulder-shaping shawl. This came to be. I knitted and knitted. I saw myself wearing the long beautiful shawl on my Italian vacation. This is where the wheels came off. I knitted everywhere I went on that vacation, and after it was washed and blocked, it leapt back to its original dimensions. I was so bummed. I balled it up and stuffed it into the pocket of my winter coat, figuring it could hang around my neck on the winter early schlep to work. When the temperature suddenly dropped, I slapped on the thing and ventured outside.

Oh.

That's why people like cashmere. It's a nearly weightless cloud, warming without itching. Any way you throw it on, it drapes like it was arranged like that. It clings ever so delicately to whatever you're wearing, so it doesn't require repeated tossings over the shoulder. Now I let the Florence scarf cuddle around my throat most of the day, rearranging only when I want to make a new artistic statement.

Just in Time

2007-01-13T09:45:00.000-08:00

Seeing as it's January and all, I've managed to finish two of the three projected pairs of mittens for coworkers. The third pair has not been started yet, because the colors are maroon and grey. Not uplifting. Of course it's in the sixties today, but I'm not complaining, really really really. However, if a miracle could occur that involves transforming my mud pit back into a yard, with grass, or even weeds, I'd be ever so happy. Meanwhile, I'm counting my blessings : I'm not living in Kansas, or Afghanistan.

Modeling the mittens is the charming Cracker, who spreads around more than his share of mud.

Sven's dashboard

2007-01-07T17:10:00.000-08:00

Here is the dashboard of Sven, my Volvo, ya. (with Swedish accent)

Pride of place goes to my baby Buddha. He's on a spring so he bounces around as I drive. Only slightly less prominent are Feathers McGraw ( I think that's his name )and Sean the sheep, both of Wallace and Gromit fame.

WTF Wed, Jan. 3

2007-01-03T17:38:00.000-08:00

All the guests are gone. Whew! Things at work are starting to slow down : the family dog is not getting run over by the family, nor is the dog eating pot pourri, chocolate, coins, anti-depressants, Tylenol, or diapers. All recent episodes in the saga of emergency veterinary medicine.

Here's some recent random photos. Jenn and daughter Ayden before the Christmas party. Bonnie Marie in her Christmas outfit, complete with jingle bell ankle bracelets. A random baby pug. And of course the lovely Rachael, in her new alpaca hat.

Still with the Greyhounds Already

2006-12-30T08:56:00.000-08:00

Lucy's on my left, Stella's on my right

Cracker is in his chair and Razzle's at my feet.

In between, Twister rests his head on Razzle's back, and the alpaca hat is worn by a vinegar bottle. For the life of me, I can't get photos to go where I want them. Once again, outwitted by inanimate objects.

I'll see Rachael in a few days, and get a photo of her in the hat. She will like it, she's a funky girl, she's 22. It amuses her that she was born the year as Sven, my Volvo

What Was I Thinking? the next chapter

2006-12-26T17:38:00.000-08:00

It was a calm and pleasant Christmas, relatively speaking. I have seven greyhounds in the house, and this is more fun and less stress than most holidays I can remember. It helps when everyone decides to eat out of his/her own bowl.

Precious little knitting to report, though I have finished the flip-top mittens. (Scarf? What scarf?)

While checking in on http://www.cuteoverload.com/,which cheers me up every day, I was led to two new-to-me sites, which may well become daily habits : http://www.overheardinnewyork.com/ and http://www.marriedtothesea.com/.

Of course, not a day goes by that I don't check in with Franklin, and Dolores his live-in sheep ( it's ok, he's gay ) at http://the-panopticon.blogspot.com/

My Dad

2006-12-17T15:55:00.000-08:00

I think about my dad whenever I get a new toy. He liked photography, and my first hand-me-down camera from him was an old Leica that he bought, I believe, before World War II. It had a leather case that fit it like a glove, with a matching, separate, light meter.

Dad died in 1977. He would have loved all the technological advancements that have come along since then. Whenever I acquire one, I have a conversation in my head with him about it. VCRs, CDs, PCs, DVDs, cell phones...I don't have an iPod but he would have had one...A friend was upgrading and gifted me with her old printer/fax/scanner/copier.It took me a week to gather the nerve to install it; I'm always afraid I'm going to strip gears or erase hard drives or something. There it is, no bigger than a bread box (anybody remember those?), with its friendly little lights blinking at me. Copiers used to be huge clanking things, always choking. And I can remember mimeograph machines - phew. Well. Whatever will they think of next? Stay tuned, Dad.

What Was I Thinking?

2006-12-08T17:24:00.000-08:00

Boring.

This scarf is boring. And painful. The yarn is too fuzzy for anything but garter stitch. The number eleven needles aggravate the arthritis in my hands. I make myself knit five rows of the unfortunate thing, then reward myself by working on the mittens.

Coincidence? Or a Sign from God?

2006-12-05T16:11:00.000-08:00

Five new dogs came to us on Saturday, and I was interested to see my designated foster, because I've been considering an addition to the family.

As a member of Netflix, I've worked my way through some excellent old British mini-series. After revelling in Helen Mirren's six Prime Suspects (just in time for the new 7th one), the next one in my queue was Cracker, with Robbie Coltrane. He's not Hagrid here: a criminal psychologist, obese, alcoholic, a chain-smoking gambling addict, incredibly obnoxious, totally irresistable. The first CD came in the mail the day before the dogs arrived.

My foster dog's track name was Kracker. Now he's my dog, and his name's Cracker.

Black Friday

2006-12-01T13:44:00.000-08:00

It was a dark and stormy morning. Jean and I met for breakfast, to go over details of tomorrow's delivery of newly-retired greyhounds. Everything is choreographed in advance, because the dogs arrive about 5 am, when we're not hitting on all cylinders.

But I digress.

I felt like wearing a dark grey shirt and black jeans, tho my usual rule is bright colors on dull days. After breakfast at Freckles, we checked out the consignment shop two doors down. Jean found a coral-colored cashmere sweater (she's a non-knitter, poor dear) and I got these funky black suede mary janes. My shopping mojo was in gear.

The Knitting Basket is just down Libbie Ave. I wanted something soft and black for mittens. I'm secret santa to a woman who wears black almost exclusively, and I'm making her a scarf from Knit Picks Suri Dream in Strawberry, 74% Suri alpaca, 22% wool, 4% nylon. If black mittens are included, with wide stripes of strawberry, maybe she'll wear the ensemble. This Nashua waved at me, 75% wool, 25% alpaca. We'll see how it goes: the latest attempt at behavior modification is going against the grain. Cate of Having a Knit Fitt says she cleans house for 15 minutes, then knits for 15 minutes. My dust bunnies taunt me like Marley hassles Scrooge, and I have to clean until I can stand to stop. Notice I didn't say until everything is clean.

Hats, Mittens, Books

2006-11-25T04:26:00.000-08:00

Greyhounds are a quiet bunch, as a rule. Stella the Foster is an exception. At 4 am she became jealous of the 4 others I'm babysitting. As I stumbled downstairs, song lyrics popped into my head
Four in the morning rain pouring down
the stove don't work, and my baby's left town
I don't recall the tune.

So I take pictures. Two swatch hats destined for Dulaan. Half of 3 pairs of mittens to go with hats commissioned last year. Medieval Hunting Scenes book, newly arrived. Stuff from the library, including the new Spenser book. Sample wisecrack : tough guy says "Who the f**k are you?" and Spenser replies "I often wonder, don't you? Late at night when you're alone?"

It's light out now. I'm going for a newspaper, then knitting and napping, if I can trick the dogs off the couch.

The New Bond

2006-11-17T17:11:00.000-08:00

Just got back from Casino Royale. Daniel Craig is not sexy; Daniel Craig is Sex.

Patient of the Day

2006-11-17T05:16:00.000-08:00

This guy's name is Keyser Soze, but he's a sweetheart.

Swatch Hat

2006-11-15T15:11:00.000-08:00

There was a pleasant surprise waiting for me when I visited the Yarn Lounge this past weekend. Cate got a newer camera, so she returned mine. Also in the bag,as a thank you gift, was a lovely mug with greyhounds on it. The image is from The Hunting Book, a medieval manuscript. Cate pointed me toward websites with other photos from the same book, but I couldn't access them. Swearing did no good. So yesterday I ordered a modern reprint from Powell's Used Books.

While at the Yarn Lounge I picked up a new book, Knitting for Peace. When I saw the Care Wear Preemie Jester Hat, I knew it would make an excellent circular swatch/hat for my Italian cashmere. If I'm going to knit in the round, I always swatch in the round, and I didn't want any of this wonderful yarn to go unused. The color's a bit, ah, subtle for a baby, but it won't show dirt, which is a priority.

Highlight of my workday : me and 3 others giving an enema to a Great Dane.

More Culture in Small Bites

2006-11-08T13:44:00.000-08:00

The lure of Florence's Archeological Museum was, for me, the Etruscan section. I figured I'd have to look at the inevitable ancient grooming devices, such as those itty bitty spoon-type thingies on long thin handles, used to clean ears. Yuck. An inordinate number of those seem to have survived.

Pleasantly surprised to find nothing of the kind, I lingered over the Egyptian tomb furniture, and the metal chariot. A guard reminded me that closing time was approaching, so I scooted through the mummy room, paid my respects to the Greeks,and revelled in the Etruscans. When they started turning out the lights I backtracked to see the chariot again, and the lights in the mummy room went out just as I walked in. I kept going but it was creepy. Some of them weren't wrapped all the way.

I didn't see anyone else until I got to the exit.

I've been in a Parallel Universe

2006-11-07T13:38:00.002-08:00

And I spent my time blogging but no one was there to read it. Here's what I've dragged over to THIS version of reality. They were originally titled My Favorite Museums.

In Florence, the Uffizi is crowded and dark, but you can't blow off the Renaissance, right? And ya gotta see the David at the Academy. After the Must Sees, you get to go to the little museums with no ticket lines, no security lines, no bathroom lines. Take your time. Ahhh.

Behind the Duomo is the Museo dell' Opera del Duomo. Stuff that used to be in the cathedral and baptistry are in here. The original 'Gates of Paradise' panels are in a light-filled interior courtyard. Michelangelo has a supporting part in another, less famous, pieta. There is spinning content, weaving content, and even greyhounds.

Vacation Shopping

2006-10-29T05:37:00.000-08:00

Who knew there was a Lush in Florence?! I've bought their soap in England, and in Boston I discovered Silky Underwear, a corn starch powder with cocoa butter. The Italian shops have the same bath powder, and they also have shower gel in bottles. Boston has bathing gel, but in jello-like cubes that escape down the drain.

Next to the church of San Lorenzo, there is a tiny yarn shop. Walk in the door and the yarn shelves are spread out below you, down a short flight of stairs. Pure Italian cashmere for 13 Euros per 25 grams, 190 yards. I think that was a bargain.

The shirt is from Sienna. There's a museum in the city hall with a mural called The Effects of Good Government on the City. I liked the colors, and the dog.

The waving cows on the socks caught my eye in a shop window in Lucca. There was a yarn shop on that street, but when I walked in, there was a heated discussion going on. I think it involved politics, or maybe a death threat. Or it may have been just the weather.

Travel Tips for Today, and Eye Candy Friday

2006-10-20T14:27:00.001-07:00

1.Carry your knitting in the bag that Knit Picks sells.Comes in bright colors so you can find it among your postcards,tour books,scarves and souvenirs. Lightweight, and it hangs from your wrist. Big enough, small enough.

2. If you are concerned about security, fly out of Germany. They go through all of everybody's hand luggage, and when they frisk you, you know you've been frisked.

3. Always bring Kleenex. Bring extra for when there's no toilet paper. Carry even more for the people who didn't bring any.

4. Wear Crocs for the flight. Comfy but no gel to make folks nervous, and they slip off and on easily thru security.

Vacation in Tuscany

2006-10-18T08:42:00.000-07:00

Last week I lived in a country villa. I took photos of the sunsets from my patio balcony, and slept in a loft over my sitting room. I visited Florence, Siena, Lucca,(all of which have yarn shops worth seeking out) plus other little medieval towns. The photos haven't been edited yet; I hope to whittle them down from the 835 on my memory cards. This is my favorite so far. I held my camera down so he wouldn't know I was taking his picture; I wasn't sure I'd gotten him in the frame at all til I looked at it later. It's Sunday afternoon in the town of Tavernelle Val di Pesa.

WTF Wed, 10/4/06

2006-10-04T14:25:00.000-07:00

Not a patient. This little guy was hanging around on a door at work the other morning. I love the way his little pebbly tummy flattens out on the glass.

WTF Wed. 9/27

2006-09-27T17:39:00.000-07:00

This pit bull has been with us for awhile now, recovering from a broken pelvis. ( Hit by a car. ) If she's awake, she's wagging her tail. Adorable, photogenic Eugenia,
she was already prominently displayed in the hospital's photo album, when I took this picture today, showing her inspecting her own portrait.

Anything Can Happen Day

2006-09-25T17:18:00.000-07:00

Flashback : remember the Mickey Mouse Show? Four days a week had a specific theme, and then there was anything can happen day. That's the only one I remember. Was there a Spin and Marty day...? Frontier Day?

The title is because I think it's entirely possible that I'm getting the hang of this shawl thingy. Apprehensive at first to commit to something so time-consuming - What if I can't do it? What if I get bored? What if it's unbearably ugly? - I remembered that "failures" are now "learning experiences" and I'll probably get better at spinning, if nothing else. And this has proved to be so. The yarn is more consistant. Predictable, even.

Another worrying-point was that it would not be done in time to be worn on my up-coming vacation; now I'm shooting for spinning enough yarn to make this my take-along-on-vacation-project.

Started my day with a trip to the dentist. Two fillings. $254.

Good news of the day : Zoloft goes generic.

Fri Eye Candy

2006-09-22T15:25:00.000-07:00

This noble, dignified fellow was photographed after a minor automobile accident ( he was not driving ), just before he was transported to the Wildlife Rehabilitation Center in Waynesboro.

I've reached my PGL (personal greyhound limit) for the weekend. Pearl and Lucy have Stella the foster sister, and we are babysitting Hannah, Sophie, Milo, Dolly, and Razzle.

WTF Wednesday, 9/20

2006-09-20T17:06:00.000-07:00

Lilac

2006-09-18T17:05:00.000-07:00

The least-fun part of airline travel is not, for me, waiting in the security lines. One can knit in a security line, or even spin with a hand spindle. All that is required is the ability to shuffle along.

When waiting at the luggage carousel, however, you have to keep a sharp lookout for the subtle differences between your black suitcase and everyone else's black suitcase. Vain as I am of my ability to travel with only carry-on baggage, the recent ban on liquids and gels had me rethinking things.

This lilac suitcase jumped out at me at Target. It made me laugh. I'm sure everyone else will laugh when it pops up on the carousel.

The flyswatter included for scale. It's also been my personal sidearm lately. Mosquitoes big as grasshoppers knock on the door and come right in, due to the recent monsoons.

Friday Eye Candy

2006-09-15T17:17:00.001-07:00

No facts to report. Burned out. The mind is blank.

But who doesn't like kittens?

My Birthday

2006-09-14T16:59:00.000-07:00

One of the few domestic chores I like is hanging out the laundry. I was engaged in this pleasant activity Saturday morning when I noticed grass coming up in the new swamp I call my back yard. I saw the dew on the ends of the new blades, and scampered inside for the camera.

It was my birthday. I was going to do whatever I wanted. Then the phone rang.

"Ah, hello, this is assisted living. Your mother is, um, usually pretty feisty, but she's been, ah, somewhat mellow, so we were concerned, and we are having her taken to the emergency room. Will you be able to meet her there? "

So I spent the day, and most of the evening, as referee between Mom and the nurses. The ER doctor said she had pneumonia; she insisted that she did not. " What, more blood!? What for? Another x-ray? When do I get out of this place? Where's my own doctor? "

When the Real Doctor showed up, Mom said, in the same breath, " Thank God you're here!...Why weren't you here sooner?! "

Her doctor discharged her, and a mere two hours later we were on our way. She was happy as a clam, and when she got back to her little assisted living apartment,she stretched out on the bed and was instantly asleep.

The clothes spent the night on the clothesline. I wasn't going out there in the dark, with spiders lurking among the socks.

Eye Candy Friday

2006-09-08T09:30:00.000-07:00

Pictures now, text later.

Guard Dogs

2006-09-04T16:25:00.000-07:00

Here's Lucy and Stella, carefully observing my across-the-street neighbor, confirming that she is making no false moves as she waits for her ride to church.

I Know Why They Called it The Dark Ages

2006-09-03T17:06:00.000-07:00

When I lived in a Fan District apartment, I had a gas water heater, gas cooking stove, and a woodstove for heat. Power failures didn't slow me down at all. Now I live in a house just outside of the city, and my daily routine is at the mercy of every passing storm. (Whimper. Whine.)

Friday night was alright - enough hot water for a shower; dinner out, knitting by candlelight. By Saturday morning the novelty had worn off. I bought a propane camp stove, and wondered if I could heat enough water for a bath. Lucy and I stretched out on the couch to ponder the matter further, and the phone woke us. It was the cheerful, sympathetic robot voice of the power company, telling me the power was back on. Civilization has returned. Chaos is averted...til the next time...

Thanks Christine

2006-08-30T17:39:00.000-07:00

I don't have any trouble coming up with subjects to blog about. It's presenting a coherent, logical narrative I have trouble with. Guess I also have problems with that rule about ending sentences with prepositions. Or has that rule been recently rescinded?

See what I mean?

Good thing I checked Christine's blog, Knitting on Trial, and learned about WTF Wednesdays. It's actually Norma's brainchild, but WTF? Also, I haven't yet attempted putting links in my text. WTF.

My notebook pc was acquired so that I could blog in comfort, on the couch with snorgling dogs pining down my arms, or on the deck in the company of West Nile virus-carrying mosquitoes. I'm at the kitchen table. It's raining. (That's water from the sky. You've seen it on the news.) I seem to have hit a random button, and a message popped up offering to translate this page into English. WTF?

Is there a difference between a laptop and a notebook?

The stitches were taken out this morning. The bruising is in the yellow stage.

The current foster dog, Stella, ( Yes. I practice my Brando when I call her in from the yard) likes Lucy so much that she tries to get into Lucy's crate with her. Pearl remains aloof.

New Dogs

2006-08-30T16:17:00.000-07:00

Another delivery this past weekend from the Florida greyhound track. Three new babies, all happy, friendly, and gentle. After the First Washing, they had their portraits taken on the back deck, just as the sun was coming up.

Stitches Mid-Atlantic

2006-08-25T14:54:00.000-07:00

Not a knitting event, just minor surgery. A bit of non-malignant cancer removed by a surgeon (who looked to be about seventeen years old). Lots of lidocaine pumped into my face which gave me a headache as it dispersed.
Fear not : there is some knitting progress to be reported. From Stahman's Shawls and Scarves, the very simplest of the Faroese shawls is being attempted, with the cashmere/silk fiber previously loitering on the dining room table. It's more fun to spin than to knit it so far. Using big needles on little yarn feels funny.

Towel

2006-08-21T19:17:00.000-07:00

Inspired by the group at The Yarn Lounge on Sunday, especially Roz with her figs, and Cate with her new blog, I envisioned a lengthy, witty entry from myself yesterday. Couldn't wait to get home from work and get those keys a-tapping. Reality intervened - errands and chores - when I sat down, finally, it was bedtime. My head started nodding like those kitten videos on Cute Overload. The attempt was soon abandoned. Today, then, is the unveiling of my first Mason-Dixon linen towel. It's been washed and dried, but the ends are a bit wavy, so I'll probably wash it again and really fry it in the dryer.
I'm off to yoga class.

Picking Blackberries

2006-08-13T17:26:00.000-07:00

In my usual August slump; down in the dumps, in the doldrums. Whiney, ungrateful, crabby.
This weekend I went berry-picking out in the country. King and Queen County? King William County? Near Central Garage, and not too far, I believe, from Frog Level. By the Mattaponi River. Bee - yooooo - tee - fool weather : Not Too Hot. We each worked our own row. Mostly absolute quiet. Sometimes an insect noise, slapping of flipflops, a giggle. Two brothers sing now and then, not Bursting Into Song; one starts quietly to himself and invites the harmony; I'm not sure they're consciously aware of singing. I didn't recognize anything. Maybe they make things up as they go along. There's another brother, but he broke his kneecap waterskiing the day before and was left on the porch with his guitar.
One way or another I feel more grateful now.

Let it Snow

2006-08-01T18:03:00.000-07:00

It might cool off to the upper 70's overnight, and get up to 102 tomorrow. I console myself with this not-so-recent photo of Missy, in the play stance on the back porch.

Latest Adoption

2006-07-24T17:10:00.000-07:00

Knitting continues apace. But in a visually boring way. So here's a photo of my former foster dog, now in his new home with Bill, 90 years old and more fun than a barrel of monkeys.