Twenty-five: Sweltering

Twenty-six: Animal Adventures

That's the name of one my daughter's computer games, containing the catchy little ditty: "temperate fo-rest, temperate fo-rest, seasons chaaange.....", cleverly set to the tune of Frere Jacques. Shortly after that ditty, the computer invariably freezes and anguished howls for parental rescue begin. I expect the disc will be tragically "lost" in the move. But I digress.

Today's topic is no. 2 on The List: Swimming with wild dolphins. I haven't. (My husband did once have to ditch his helicopter in the South Pacific right beside a pod of dolphins, and quite a lot of water got inside before they got the remaining engine sufficiently spun up to generate lift for the short trip out of Dili harbour and onto dry land, so he feels he qualifies for the "X". This is my blog, though.)

In Cozumel I did once spend an afternoon paddling about awkwardly in a life jacket and rented snorkel gear of uncertain cleanliness. (One of the reasons I have not spent more time frolicking with wild sea creatures is my distinct lack of swimming ability.) As we were admiring the colourful fishies, a decent sized barracuda came zipping by and did a couple circuits of the snorkeling area. He looked exactly like the one that ate Nemo's mom, and it seemed to me that something with that many pointy teeth could be inherently problematic, however, no one else seemed too excited, so we just watched.

The remainder of my wild creature encounters have been on land. For example, running with bears. There are a considerable number of black bears living in the Whistler area, and it is not uncommon to round a bend in the running trail and find one lumbering along in search of berries. Thankfully, these guys don't get too fussed about humans as long as you back off and leave them well alone.

Motoring with moose. Newfoundland contains an astonishing number of moose, many of whom apparently reside right beside the Trans Canada highway, where they lie in wait for unsuspecting motorists. My residency program had training locations scattered from one end of the province to the other, so I spent a considerable amount of time on the road and had a number of close calls.

Lunching with lions. When I was nine, my family moved to South Africa for a couple of years. We took every opportunity to visit the local game parks, and spent a memorable three week holiday in Kruger National Park. More on that in installment no. 114.

Frolicking with frogs. The pond across from our house in South Africa contained an enormous variety of frogs and toads which were relatively easy to catch in the evening. I would collect a couple dozen at a time and was permitted to keep them overnight in the bathtub for scientific observation. (Apparently, many of my friends' mothers were not nearly so accomodating.) I used to stack them up in descending order of size, and then stare deep into their eyes to mesmerize them so that they would sit still.

Recreating with rattlesnakes. In the Okanagan. My mother was the one who found him in a clump of grass, where he was entertaining our dog with his tail. The rest of us were up the river fishing, and returned to find Mom coolly finishing him off with a large stick.

Cruising with cockroaches. When we moved from Monte Carlo to South Africa, we did so by passenger liner - the Italian ship Galileo Galilei. Every evening, hoards of enormous cockroaches would scutter about on the floor, and the ship's staff swore that their existence was an utter impossibility. So my father collected a number, sealed them in an envelope and addressed it to our steward. The cockroach problem was solved (presumably by hideously toxic chemical means - it was the '70's) shortly thereafter.

I could go on - recoiling from rats (don't ask), dealing with deer (my roses!), checking for cougars. Considering where we lived on Vancouver Island, it is virtually certain that I was unwittingly stalked by cougars on several occasions - I have never shed the ingrained habit of glancing over my shoulder regularly when walking in the woods. But, since I have now reached the point of recounting non-encounters with presumptive creatures, it is obviously time to quit.

Next week: "Climbed a Mountain." Quite a lot of them over the years, and I have the pictures to prove it. If I can find them.

Twenty-seven: Fire

But first:

Sunny and not (yet) stiflingly hot - perfect for home baked fresh cherry muffins on the patio, methinks.

--------------------------

Today's colour project: fire. As in the one over which we roasted marshmallows with the kids in the backyard.

It turned out to be a bit of a challenge to come up with something I liked. I started playing with some basic stripes of sampled colours: yellow, orange, dark rusty orange, reddish brown...... and reincarnated the hideous acrylic afghan I spent much of my preteen years not finishing. Click. Where had I seen those colors in a format I didn't detest? Of course - handpainted yarn would make a fine fiery foundation:

With a bright pale yellow or cream design to call to mind the swirling, dancing flames:

I see socks. Which is apt, since the motif on the left is adapted from a book of Turkish sock patterns. The yarn above is already committed to a half finished pair of socks, but I could order more.....

Twenty-eight: Just in Case There Was Any Doubt

about my legitimacy as a knit-blogger, I thought I'd best post a little photographic evidence.I do, in fact, own a cat. His name is Basil, aka Basil-D-Cat, Baz, Basil Buddy, Ow-Stop-That!, and How The Heck Did You Get Up There? He's very cool, and has used up several of his nine lives (putting our vet's kids through college in the process) over the years. He's a little camera shy though, and is seen here taking refuge in one of the many old packing boxes presently en route to recycling. My DD thoughtfully carved him a cat shaped door for his personal use.

-------------------------------

Over the years, I have collected odd bits of blue themed china, some of it broken, with the idea that I would one day create a mosaic tiled masterpiece. It invariably causes no end of consternation for the movers, who look at me oddly, and then write "broken dishes" in big red letters all over the packing materials, to ensure they can't be blamed for their condition. I came across the bundles the other day while sorting and resolved, in a fit of maturity and noble self discipline, to give it all away. Yesterday, I had a brainwave about doing a sort of mosaic tile motif in knitted form, and thought I would pull them out to photograph for inspiration.

This doesn't include the odds and ends of blue IKEA dinner sets sitting in another part of the Goodwill pile. Nor the lovely Martha Stewart blue stoneware we currently own, which the kids will doubtless cause to be added over time. You guessed it - creative lust reared its ugly head, and the broken dishes are coming with us. After all, what better place for a mosaic masterpiece than our cozy little patio in Whistler? I expected my DH to have a fit, but he just shrugged and pointed out that at least they can be jammed in any old corner, and don't require special handling or immaculate storage conditions.

Kaffe Fassett does some very nifty things with mosaic motifs, but I would rather stick pins in my eyes than do that much intarsia. So I gave some thought to how one could get randomly patterned blue and white patches outlined in "grout" without painstaking plotting and millions of horrid little ends. Ah ha!:

I was too lazy to swatch yesterday, so I played on the computer instead:It's just a rough sketch, but I think it has potential. I can also see it as an interesting format for a luscious handpainted skein.

----------------------------------

About potential yarns for the Roundabout Leaf Tank - the recommended yarn is 80% rayon and 20% silk, so I suspect 100% rayon would work just fine. I think the idea is for it to be drapey, but not overly heavy (cotton might be a bit much). The recommended gauge is 18 sts and 26 rows to 4" in stockinette - basically an aran weight yarn.

Twenty-nine: The Next Thing

It's official today: Less Than a Month until we move. Patients now are almost all on their "last visits" and the bittersweet process of closure and goodbye is in full swing - hugs and thank-you's, kind words and little tokens. Being military, one gets used to saying goodbye regularly, but oddly, this is one of the few times I have left a practice with proper closure. The last two have coincided with my maternity leaves, both of which began precipitously with obstetrical emergencies and prolonged hospitalisation.

The first time, I did morning rounds, saw a number of patients on the maternity ward, popped down to my Ob's office, was examined and promptly sent packing back to maternity, this time for admission. Later that morning, the ambulance attendants wheeled me out on a guerney, past several of my own stunned patients, en route to the big city hospital down the road. My second pregnancy culminated in an equally unexpected 3 month hospital stay. (For the record, the end result in each case was a perfect, healthy baby, for which I am eternally grateful.) The swift role reversal was dizzying, and though I was too consumed with my own fears and worries and physical pain to fret about how my patients would do without me (just fine, of course), I did regret the lack of a proper transition.

-----------------------------

The Roundabout Leaf Tank is underway:

It is shaping up to be an interesting but not overly complex knit - perfect for my present distracted state. I am knitting it in Estelle's aran weight silk, which is a raw silk, and therefore not quite as slippery / drapey as the specified Berocco rayon / silk blend (which I failed to find anywhere online.) Nevertheless, the Estelle is a lovely yarn, of excellent quality, and I don't expect it to disappoint. A number of folk are apparently knitting this pattern in a much finer gauge with some of the fabulous new handpainted silks out there - I was sorely tempted, but decided to do it "by the book" this time.

Thirty: Turkish Socks

Here's something I unearthed during decluttering recently:I picked this up during our matrimonial stay on Crete. There was a basket of them in the corner of a gift shop, they were inexpensive, and I had no idea what I was looking at until many years later when I picked up a copy of Anna Zilboorg's Turkish socks book (now titled Simply Socks in reprint). I really wish I'd picked up more at the time, because they have all the classic design and pattern features of the traditional Turkish sock.

The sole of the foot and the heel, each with their own unique and typical patterning:I remain skeptical of the merits of the pointy heel, and these wound up being too small for me to properly try on, but Zilboorg insists they are quite comfy once you get used to them. Better for lounging than stuffing in shoes, though. Unlike FairIsle, Turkish colorwork does not confine itself to 2 colors per row, which would make it considerably more challenging to emulate.
I come back to Zilboorg's book again and again to jolt my design senses out of their Western rut. I generally convert everything to 2 color work, and rarely use screamingly bright hues, but the book is a wealth of design inspiration nevertheless.
This is a winter hat I designed for my 3 year old son last year, using a variety of traditional Turkish sock patterns. Sadly, he has never worn it, because he is not a "hat person." It can be minus 30 degrees and a howling blizzard and he refuses to so much as pull up his hood. I'm still holding out hope he grows out of that before he grows out of the hat.

Thirty-one: Overambitious

I spent every spare moment last night and this morning flicking fretfully between my favorite online yarn sources, trying to come up with a solution to the cabled dress dilemma.

The black silk will not work, not even for a shell. It is utterly inelastic - in fact, if you stretch the fabric, the fiber itself deforms and you can't make it go back to its original shape. The only salvage I can imagine is to knit it along with a really elastic yarn ie. wool and I wouldn't even do that until I wash a test swatch to see if a) it is dye fast and b) it disintegrates. At least it's soft, and has the characteristic warmth of silk, so knit together with a DK wool, it would probably make a very nice sweater.

Here's the dress situation: Our last dress-up event before we move to Whistler (where casual is the only dress code) takes place August 11th. We move the next week. Even the speediest Canadian online yarn shops will take a good week to get the yarn to me, which leaves exactly 2 weeks in which to swatch extensively, finalize a brand new design and knit a complexly patterned knee length dress in a sport to DK weight yarn. During this time, I will also work, raise children, pack/declutter and get the house ready for showing. My DH asserts that "no one else would even contemplate such a thing." Hah - shows how many knit blogs he reads! Nevertheless, I suppose good sense must prevail over pride in this instance.

For the record, I have not given up on the idea of a slinky little sleeveless dress in a drapey yarn with cables for structure and shaping, but perhaps a camisole might be the place to start. The sort of camisole that could be paired with nice jeans for a not-ridiculously-overdressed-but-I-do-so-love-silk sort of thing. And not necessarily before we move. Though I'm not ruling it out, either.

-----------------------------

My knitterly confidence would be flagging badly were it not for this: The BBS finished up over the weekend and I love love love it. It is soft and scrummy and fits perfectly and is my favorite, most flattering colour. I really ought to block it, but that would involve taking it off. Fortuitously, the sweltering heat here has abated slightly, and there is just enough of a chill in the morning air to make my Serene Sweater With Coffee fantasy a happy reality. In stark contrast to the black silk debacle, I did not compromise on this project, but forked over a rather large sum of money for a top notch fiber. Could there be a lesson here?

Thirty-two

days until the big move, and only 2 1/2 more weeks in the office. I'm counting down the latter even more assidiously than the former now, because my partner is on holidays for the next two weeks (well-earned, I might add) which means an exponential increase in paperwork, hospital work, and general fire putting out.

I decided that if I'm going to design that black silk dress in time, I'd best get on with some swatching. I started with inexpensive wool, just to get a handle on some cable patterns:

Then moved on to the silk noil - so far, so good:

Ah, but wait for it. Know what this is?

It's a scale model of the bum print that will protrude ever so unfashionably when we finish dinner and stand for the toast to the Queen.
Fetching, no? This stuff is like playdough:
Even more disconcerting, it has all the tensile strength of playdough. Once again, proving that You Get What You Pay For. I can't believe how long it takes me to learn that. My reasoning went along these lines: I haven't designed a dress before, so I don't want to spend $250 on really nice silk just in case it doesn't work out. So I spent $60 - and now have 11 skeins of crap. (I'm sure I'll use it for something, someday, but most definitely not a dress.)

Thirty-three: Sunday Stories

It seems I wasn't the only one who felt a sort of compulsion to explain and expand upon A Life Well Lived. The more I looked at the list, the more I thought that each entry could provide considerable scope for story telling, musing and discussion. Well, why not? I plan to go through them one at a time, on Sundays, which should keep things going for a while.

Number 1: Bought everyone in the bar a drink.

I skipped right over this on the initial list, since I hardly ever go to bars, but in fact there was one time when I (technically we) did buy everyone in the bar a drink. Quite a lot of drinks. All the drinks actually, all night long.

On October 19, 1995 Rob and I were married on the flight deck of the HMCS Calgary. He was flying Sea Kings with the Canadian navy, and they were halfway through a six month peace-keeping operation starting in the Persian Gulf and finishing up in the Adriatic.

They had 10 days leave on Crete. The ship was docked in Suda Bay, a short way from the picturesque little city of Hania.

The ship's captain performed the ceremony, but since they weren't about to collect everyone to sail the hundred miles out to international waters, it was not legally binding. So earlier in the day, we were legally married by the mayor of Hania, in a civil ceremony at City Hall. Here we are filling out the paperwork with the Mayor's secretary. The gentleman on the far left is Raouf, a kind hearted Tunisian hairdresser who was working his way at odd jobs through Greece, and whom I met on the bus down from Iraklion. He spoke passable Greek and English, and gamely translated our vows for us.

After the shipboard ceremony, we retired to the wardroom for dinner:

And dancing:

We footed the bill for the open bar (Canadian ships are not dry), and although we retired early:

The party continued into the wee hours:

And that is how I once bought everyone at the bar a drink. Or two.

Thirty-four: Saturday Stuff

Saturday sky: Another scorcher in the works today.

------------------------------

Colour play: I decided to make this a regular Saturday project, as a way of really seeing the things around me. This week: hollyhocks from our front yard. (The picture was taken last week since Wednesday night's storm pretty much flattened them.)

Pixelated with the photoeditor:

Sampled colors converted to FairIsle:

Thirty-five

days until we move to Whistler. I spent much of yesterday doing laundry, culling my closet, and clearing out the ensuite bathroom. Another resolution: No more cosmetic impulse buys, particularly lipstick. There are approximately 2 shades of pink that flatter my pale complexion; everything else makes me look either like a harlot (not the good kind) or an escapee from the Night of the Living Dead who actually believed the fashion mag's assertion that "everyone can wear coral".

Typically, I make these purchases when stopping in at the pharmacy on my way home from work in order to buy pantyhose for a function that evening. I will have just looked at my tired work face and my boring work hair under the garish fluorescent in the tiny office bathroom and decided that if I am going to feel good about myself tonight, it's Time For a Change. Because I am fretful about communicable disease, I do not try the sampler, but simply pick a shade which looks pretty. In the tube that is, or possibly on the poreless model hovering in cardboard glory over the display.

Once home, I invariably apply the lipstick last, at the point at which we have exactly 12 seconds to get out the door and still make it on time. I inspect my reflection with horror, scrub it off, fret about how the scrubbing process has made the area around my mouth look flushed and blotchy, apply my regular lipstick, race downstairs and pepper my harried husband with queries about the adequacy of my appearance.

But it doesn't end there. The tube of lipstick can not, of course, be returned or passed on. I can not throw it away because it is still Perfectly Good and Brand New. So it sits at the bottom of the cosmetic stash for a year or two, until it is old enough to have plausibly grown germs, at which point I can finally discard it in good conscience, because it has become a Safety Issue.

-----------------------------

Since laundry and old lipstick are not especially photogenic, here's a peek at yesterday's other project:

Another crocheted silver piece, with some scrumptious Sleeping Beauty turquoise. I'll post proper pictures when it's all done.

Thirty-six

It's a gloomy morning here - the headlines on the Internet news service today announced an East Coast Cormorant crash. Three dead, four hurt. The all too familiar clenching sensation in the gut - no names yet, which of our friends? Too many dead friends, particularly for my husband's part. While leaving the military will not exempt us from further losses, I will be very happy to receive no more late night calls from the squadron, taking far too long to tell me that my husband is alive. I know all of life is uncertain, but a career of risk and sacrifice gets old after a while, for the family as well as the soldier.

So, being in an introspective, stock-taking mood, I did something entirely foreign to my overanalyzing, reluctant-to-hop-on bandwagons psyche. No idea where this originally originated - I found it at Knitting in the North. The idea is to bold the things you have done.

01. Bought everyone in the bar a drink
02. Swam with wild dolphins
03. Climbed a mountain
04. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive
05. Been inside the Great Pyramid
06. Held a tarantula
07. Taken a candlelit bath with someone
08. Said 'I love you' and meant it
09. Hugged a tree
10. Bungee jumped
11. Visited Paris
12. Watched a lightning storm at sea
13. Stayed up all night long and saw the sun rise
14. Seen the Northern Lights
15. Gone to a huge sports game
16. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa
17. Grown and eaten your own vegetables
18. Touched an iceberg
19. Slept under the stars
20. Changed a baby's diaper
21. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon
22. Watched a meteor shower
23. Gotten drunk on champagne
24. Given more than you can afford to charity
25. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope
26. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment
27. Had a food fight
28. Bet on a winning horse
29. Asked out a stranger
30. Had a snowball fight
31. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can
32. Held a lamb
33. Seen a total eclipse
34. Ridden a roller coaster
35. Hit a home run
36. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking
37. Adopted an accent for an entire day
38. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment
39. Had two hard drives for your computer
40. Visited all 10 provinces
41. Taken care of someone who was drunk
42. Had amazing friends
43. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country
44. Watched wild whales
45. Stolen a sign
46. Backpacked in Europe
47. Taken a road-trip
48. Gone rock climbing
49. Midnight walk on the beach
50. Gone sky diving
51. Visited Ireland
52. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love
53. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger's table and had a meal with them
54. Visited Japan
55. Milked a cow
56. Alphabetized your cds
57. Pretended to be a superhero
58. Sung karaoke
59. Lounged around in bed all day
60. Posed nude in front of strangers
61. Gone scuba diving
62. Kissed in the rain
63. Played in the mud
64. Played in the rain
65. Gone to a drive-in theater
66. Visited the Great Wall of China
67. Started a business
68. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken
69. Toured ancient sites
70. Taken a martial arts class
71. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight
72. Gotten married
73. Been in a movie
74. Crashed a party
75. Gotten divorced
76. Gone without food for 5 days
77. Made cookies from scratch
78. Won first prize in a costume contest
79. Ridden a gondola in Venice
80. Gotten a tattoo
81. Rafted the Snake River
82. Been on television news programs as an "expert"
83. Got flowers for no reason
84. Performed on stage
85. Been to Las Vegas
86. Recorded music
87. Eaten shark
88. Had a one-night stand
89. Gone to Thailand
90. Bought a house
91. Been in a combat zone
92. Buried one of your parents
93. Been on a cruise ship
94. Spoken more than one language fluently
95. Performed in Rocky Horror.
96. Raised children.
97. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour
98. Created and named your own constellation of stars
99. Taken an exotic bicycle tour in a foreign country
100. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over
101. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge
102. Sang loudly in the car, and didn't stop when you knew someone was looking
103. Had plastic surgery
104. Survived an illness that you shouldn't have survived
105. Wrote articles for a large publication
106. Lost over 100 pounds
107. Held someone while they were having a flashback
108. Piloted an airplane
109. Petted a stingray
110. Broken someone's heart
111. Helped an animal give birth
112. Won money on a T.V. game show
113. Broken a bone
114. Gone on an African photo safari
115. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced
116. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol
117. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild
118. Ridden a horse
119. Had major surgery
120. Had a snake as a pet
121. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon
122. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours
123. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states
124. Visited all 7 continents
125. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days
126. Eaten kangaroo meat
127. Eaten sushi
128. Had your picture in the newspaper
129. Changed someone's mind about something you care deeply about
130. Gone back to school
131. Parasailed
132. Petted a cockroach
133. Eaten fried green tomatoes
134. Read The Iliad - and the Odyssey
135. Selected one "important" author who you missed in school, and read
136. Killed and prepared an animal for eating
137. Skipped all your school reunions
138. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language 139. Been elected to public office
140. Written your own computer language
141. Thought to yourself that you're living your dream
142. Had to put someone you love into hospice care
143. Built your own PC from parts
144. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn't know you
145. Had a booth at a street fair
146: Dyed your hair
147: Been a DJ
148: Shaved your head
149: Caused a car accident
150: Saved someone's life

Of course, the whole time I was doing it, I wanted to argue with the list as being an arbitrary and culturally biased definition of a broad and complete life. It is a testament to hard won maturity and self-control that I did not cover it in addendums and explanations (such as: my family went to Venice when I was five, and we walked all day to the point of exhaustion because we got lost and couldn't find the car, but being on a strict budget, my parents did not spring for a gondola ride, thus depriving me of that particular life milestone.)

You see why I don't often do these.

Thirty-seven

I thought it was about time for a BBS progress shot: One of the happy surprises about this pattern is that despite its big, cozy, and informal impression, it is also very nicely fitted - much more than I expected from a bulky knit. So nicely, in fact, that I am considering creating some sort of handcrafted clasp system down the front. (I might give nickel silver a try, as it is non-tarnishing and inexpensive. I've only worked with sterling to date, which I don't want to sew on a wool sweater because of the tarnish issue.)

The other thing about this more-fitted-than-you-might-expect sweater is that it would be prudent to pick a size that matches your hips if, like me, your hips are significantly bigger around than your bust. The sizing in the pattern lists bust sizes only, and since the shaping is straight up and down (albeit with some clever use of differently elastic stitch patterns) and hangs well over the hips, you really need to choose your largest body circumference, whatever that might be.

Converting the sleeves to round knitting (love the Addis for magic looping) was not difficult and I am very pleased with the smooth set-in sleeve seam that resulted from doing away with all the other seams.

Thirty-eight: Memories

First, in answer to Charity's comment about the dream - the stress is certainly making me a tich hyper, but I have to admit, my mind really is that busy. I am fascinated by a whole lot of very different things, which either makes me some sort of Renaissance woman, or else just someone who lacks focus. I remember when I was interviewing for a residency postion in Halifax, the professor conducting the interview was delighted when I exclaimed over the sculpture in his office. Bonus points for being a medical student with "outside interests." Then I was foolish enough to let slip how had I seriously considered degrees / careers in math, quantum physics, performance piano, philosophy and linguistics. All true, but it was quickly obvious he thought it was merely a clumsy and disingenuous attempt to impress him. Needless to say, I didn't get that position, and have been very cautious about discussing my diverse interests since.

--------------------------------

Here is a bit of yarn with some personal history:

During my last year of medical school, I chose to do a surgery / obstetrics elective in South Africa. I spent three months based in the east coastal city of East London, and got out and about wherever and whenever I could. One day I discovered an ad for a local hiking club tacked to the hospital bulletin board and phoned them up. Turned out they were embarking on a three day weekend trip to the Drakensberg mountains and had room for another hiker. I packed my bags, they picked me up at the appointed street corner and off we went. Of course, I would have a fit (not to mention a nervous breakdown) if my daughter ever did such a thing, but I exercised good judgement and it all turned out just fine. It was a splendid weekend, including the ascent of one good sized mountain accessible by a full day's hike and a bit of rock scrambling at the top. Near the farm house where we were staying was a sheep farm that was selling natural handspun wool. I haven't the faintest recollection what kind of sheep they were, but the wool was soft and interesting and nicely priced, especially given the highly skewed exchange rate at the time.

What I should have done was to save it for a single fantastically worthy project that would remind me of that wonderful weekend forever. Instead, bits of it got incorporated into a number of ill-fated projects, some of which (like the half knitted child's sweater already far too small for either of my children) it can be recovered from and some of which it can't.

It has a thick and thin texture, which I'm sure has a technical name that I would know if I were a spinner. (I actually have a spindle and some roving, and just have to find time to sit down and try to follow the printed instructions. I've been delaying heading down that path just yet, as spinning appears to be highly addictive and I have quite enough on the go at the moment.) I think I'd like to make some sort of sweater for myself from it, but obviously there is not nearly enough left, so off to the stash it goes to await the perfect companion yarn and the perfect design idea. (Yes, the high occurence rate of the word "perfect" does indicate a personality trait.) I thought hiking socks might perhaps be appropriate, but I'd like something with an indefinite lifespan, which socks definitely do not have.

---------------------------------

Here's some (probably very old) mohair from the bargain bin of my LYS:

It is 70% mohair, 10% wool, and a little acrylic and nylon making up the remainder. Sadly, I did not notice until I got home that the ends of many of the balls are significantly faded - as though it had sat in a sunny window for months at some point. I'm thinking it should be dyeable - maybe a dark navy. I have no experience dyeing (actually that's not entirely true - I Kool-Aid dyed a felted bag once, but couldn't bear the fruity smell that lasted well over a year.) I'll have to do some research before I leap into that one.

--------------------------------

The local knitting culture (what there is of it) leans strongly toward thrifty and easy care: the Moose Jaw Exhibition knitting entries were very sparse and consisted virtually entirely of acrylic afghans and baby layettes. (I think the prairies tend more to quilting than knitting, which seems odd to me, considering how cold it gets in winter.) Consequently, what little wool the LYS has carried over the years has languished, and their back room has shelves of wool dating back (I suspect) to the 60's.

Crochet wool:I had never heard of such a thing. It has a sort of hard tightly twisted feel to it (not unlike crochet cotton) - I'm thinking socks for this stuff.

-------------------------------------

One for the "what was I thinking?" section:

White Buffalo, very historically Canadian, and recently discontinued. (I grew up economically challenged, and to this day have a terrible time resisting the siren call of discontinued! discounted! ugly but it's on sale!) I was in a felted bags phase when I ordered this from Yarn Forward last year. It does indeed felt readily, but is not at all easy to knit, and any tension on the yarn (eg. small children yanking on it, tripping over it etc.) causes it to immediately pull apart. I found it a huge pain to work with, much more difficult than Lopi. Also, I can not believe I ordered the "bleached puke" shade on the bottom. Definitely an experimental dye project in waiting.

Thirty-nine

days until we move to Whistler. Resisting the urge now to curl up in the fetal position and whimper about how there's barely a month left and the kids are undoing my sorting and tidying almost as fast as I can do it. Of course, it takes a lot less time to unsort and unclean than the reverse.

I ought to download all those interesting yarn shots I took just before the computer crashed yesterday, but it's the end of a long office day and I'm fried, so I'm going to be the ultimate geek and relate the dreams which my Beloved and I had last night.

I clearly immersed myself very successfully in Chaos over the last few days, (which is depressingly apropos for our family) because I spent much of the night trying to devise a way to graph my 6 year old daughter's behaviour, certain that I could generate a strange attractor diagram and form some sort of unifying theory about her behaviour. I suspect the truth will turn out to be that a butterfly flapping its wings on the other side of the world is the cause of her latest meltdown.

My husband, Mr. Tough Guy Fighter Pilot, dreamt he was posted to Iceland. Glancing out his office window, he saw a transport plane go down in flames and on his way to render assistance, was temporarily diverted by the latest issue of Martha Stewart magazine. Oddly though, it looked like it had been hastily assembled in rough draft format, and he realized with horror that the plane had in fact been carrying the entire editorial staff of the magazine. (Yes, we subscribe, but he umm.... only looks at the recipes. Honest.)

Tomorrow I'll get back to yarn. Assuming, that is, that the giant swirling formation of cumulonimbus presently over our house doesn't send us running for the basement and take care of this decluttering business in one fell swoop. Gotta love life on the prairies.

PS - apologies to all Bloglines subscribers - I messed up somehow just now, and it appears that yesterday's post is going to publish all over again.

Forty

days and forty nights until we move to Whistler. This will be exceptionally brief, because it is past everyone's bedtime here. I just couldn't skip over day forty, though - such an auspicious, biblical sort of time frame.

Sadly, we had a computer crisis of near-biblical proportions today and have only just now got it up and running again to see what has been lost or corrupted. (I hereby solemnly promise to back-up critical files to CD-ROM regularly for the rest of my life, so help me God. Just as soon as the problem with the CD burner gets fixed.)

Funny how isolated and at loose ends one feels without a computer. Also, what a terribly subtle time-waster it is - in all those bits of "take a load off for a minute" that I normally spend checking email or cruising blogs, I made serious headway on "Chaos" by James Gleick. I think I might have to go back to university and do that math degree - this stuff is just so cool.

Lots of pictures tomorrow, I promise. For now, how old do you suppose this is??
It says ART. X. 966 - it could conceivably be from 1966 - I have no idea. Details of this and other interesting bits of the stash over the next 2 days.

Forty-one: Sky Sampling

The Saturday sky idea got me thinking. Here's our sky - we've had a lovely heat wave going for over a week now.

A vertical section of it, pixelated with the photoeditor:

A (somewhat simple and hasty) FairIsle pattern using colors sampled from the pixelated photo:

I find this to be very useful in helping me to truly "see" the colors which make up a natural object or phenomenon. Just look at the multitude of hues present in a basic "blue" sky.