Civilized

The party was last night, so (Cher's lovely and supportive comment notwithstanding), I thought I would post a rather more civilized photo of the finished steek vest (seen here with a bias cut black skirt from Le Chateau and black pearl drop earrings of my own design):

Pattern: yarn-over steek vest, p.104 of Teva Durham's Loop-d-Loop.

Yarn: Jaeger Celeste (50% viscose 30% polyamide 20% linen) in white. I purchased 4 x 50 gm balls (90 m / 98 yds per 50 gm) but only ended up needing 3. Knitted on 10 mm needles as per the pattern.

Comments: I love the finished product, but this ribbon yarn was not the easiest to handle, and since the ribbon itself is very stretchy, my garment gauge wound up a bit smaller than my swatch. I knit the medium size, but since I have a long torso, I added an extra inch on the ribbing and an extra 5 or 6 rounds in the steek portions below the armholes - I could easily have added a bit more than that to compensate for the contracting gauge. Like so many sleeveless tops, creeping bra straps were an issue (and yes, I am one of those prudes who feels that showing bra straps just indicates poor planning). What I especially loved about the design was the steek portion - they actually don't reveal any more skin than the knitted stitches, but create a tantalizing illusion that they could - and therein lies one of my favorite fashion devices: the art of alluring suggestion.

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The interminable dark and stormy weather this weekend has done nothing to abate my present passion for red. I decided to keep this for myself (had been debating whether to gift or sell it):

I think of it as "that 70's bag" because I knitted and felted it from vintage wool which had been languishing in the backroom bargain bin of a small town LYS since the 1970's. Knitted in the round in "make it up as you go along" fashion.

And the red socks:

I just LOVE how this is knitting up - it's my first project with hand dyed wool, and everyone seems to go on about "pooling" but this looks just gorgeously blended to me. It is Fleece Artist merino sock wool in Red Rock. I am knitting a simple ribbed sock to my own dimensions just to let the yarn shine. I'm not sure when I will venture into written sock patterns - I don't have "average" feet and ankle dimensions and I can't bear to use such lovely yarn on socks that might slouch.

Hodgepodge

It's a bit of a hodgepodge today, as the cold rain presently driving against the windows has washed away any sense of creative effervesence. (Also Blogger's technical difficulties today have wiped out several of my more brilliant sentences, which I was too fogbrained to recreate.)

Firstly, an ode to the miracle of suction which turned this:

Into this:

Minus the books of course, but I was pleasantly flabbergasted to witness the smallifying power of air tight plastic and the common household vacuum. Suddenly enamoured with the sucking and consolidating process, I hauled down more yarn and proceeded to fill the other three bags. Turns out I need... well.... a couple more. Who knew? The important thing is, the stash now looks very very small. (See honey? It's really Not That Much Yarn.) Loose objects are now sticking to it, drawn by the inexorable gravity of its infinitely dense mass, but the stash is clearly little. Meagre even.

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Next, the finished steek vest. (Well, mostly - I still have to tack down the woven in ends, which I think I will do with needle and thread, since the ribbon yarn is a bit slippery, and I don't trust it not to worm out.) Since the forecast for the next four days pretty much rules out an outdoor glamour shot by the shrubbery, I have resorted to that uniquely knit bloggish phenomenon, the Hideous Self-Portrait In Bathroom Mirror.

Red

Red, to me, is the color of throwing caution to the wind, exuberance, celebration and joy. It mocks attempts to harness it in prim "matching" color schemes, and is at its glorious best in a lusty spectrum from orange to purple. My favorite memories of Crete are the eclectic pots of geraniums crowded on doorsteps, and the impossibly sweet sun-ripened tomatoes - that next summer after our honeymoon, I began an annual tradition of crowding my front walk with geraniums in every shade of red I could find. (We have since moved to geranium - unfriendly climes, but that's another tale and soon to be remedied).

Sadly, red is a color I have never had success wearing - demure pink is the closest I can manage without turning my complexion ill and blotchy looking. I am hoping that socks will satisfy the craving, because wearing red feels like exactly the sort of rebellious self-expression that I am presently in the mood for. "Ha!" my red socks will say to the world, "I am not just an interminably nice professional woman whose highest calling is to listen to the excruciatingly detailed list of your bodily sensations over the last week and advise you in well modulated tones regarding your eternal quest for regularity. I am in fact exotic, imaginative and quite possibly a little dangerous." And the patients will think, "Maybe I will start exercising and lower my trans fatty acid intake." Because there's no telling what a woman in red might do.

Fortified

Almost finished:

The little steek top, due to be worn this Friday evening with a mid length black skirt from Le Chateau. I'm thinking some judicious bra shopping will take place between now and then.

The second sock, with plenty of yarn left over. Turns out I Needn't Have Worried. Ha! - I choose to believe that it was my incessant worry that in fact averted certain sock disaster. As Mad-Eye Moody would say: "CONstant Vigilance!" Perhaps I can get a little pair for my DS out of the leftovers.

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Recently arrived:

The latest installment in the fortification of the stash against lean times to come. Clockwise from top right:

• Fingering weight baby alpaca / silk from Elann in rich aubergine (my favorite color word) and a sultry olive green. For an as yet to be worked out original design featuring some combination of Fair Isle motifs and lace patterning. Might need some black to supplement. Haven't decided.
• Aran weight wool from Knit Picks (bargain price, rather one dimensional crayon box colors) earmarked for the next Dulaan sweater. (2007 shipment, which reminds me, I'd better get my butt in gear and get 2006 in the mail - I am SO bad about mailing stuff. How hard can it be, I ask myself repeatedly - address it, go to the post office. No confrontation, no negotiating, just pay the nice lady whatever exorbitant fee she quotes. For some reason, it is one of my Avoidance Things. Except for the business - I get those out immediately and then don't sleep until they show safely delivered on the tracking system.)
• Lovely charcoal grey worsted weight wool for either the wild cabled cardigan in Loop 'D Loop or some other wildly cabled thing of my own design.
• Rich brown 40% wool / acrylic and polyamide blend - supposed to be super elastic - for that desperately cool cabled tunic in Loop 'D Loop that looks like tree bark.
• Light blue cotton elastic blend for a bikini. Having thoroughly dissed Sexy Little Knits, I am going to put my money where my mouth is and make a bikini from the book. I do in fact wear the things, although not to walk my dog or go shopping in Beverly Hills - pretty much just to sit in the hot tub in Whistler sipping beer and looking at the mountains. And nice ones are actually rather expensive to buy, so this will be a sort of cost analysis experiment. How long will a handknit bikini stand up to regular hot-tubbing? I plan to wear it for the first time when no one is around and I have a large towel immediately to hand Just In Case. I may or may not post photographic evidence.
• More books.
• More lovely wool in dark blue and creamy natural, for a fitted cardigan featuring traditional Scandinavian motifs. Also a yet to be worked out original design. (Note the reference book of traditional Scandinavian knitting).
• Last of all, two skeins of hand dyed sock yarn for a rainy day and because everyone else has it and I don't. Didn't.
• Almost forgot - hidden behind the books are a number of vacuum sealable storage bags with which I am going to compress the entire stash into a small cube (or two) of infinite density. Ditto my lifetime collection of cotton print quilting fabric.

Atmosphere

I was born by the sea, with the fragrant rocky hills of Provence at my back, so I will never be properly home on the flatlands. Nevertheless, two years in Saskatchewan has taught me a new appreciation for sky. I never felt this in Calgary, perhaps because I was too absorbed in misery to notice, but more likely because I was not yet a runner.

Running on the flat prairie with nothing between me and the infinite blue, the ground seems to melt away and it feels like flying. Whole weather systems form and travel and change their minds before my eyes. Most entertaining are the smotheringly hot days of summer, when the cumulonimbus gather slowly into towering green monsters and I do the sensible thing and get to the car just as the first fat drops sizzle on the hood.

Bear in mind, I only have these atmospheric epiphanies in the summer - in winter I mostly tuck my chin down and think "Dear God, what I wouldn't give for a terrain feature to block this freaking wind." Then I go inside to go nowhere on the treadmill and watch The View, trying not to laugh at the funny bits, because apparently it is considered gauche and just a little freaky to giggle to oneself on the treadmill. Especially at daytime television.

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Remember the summer top I was knitting for my DD? At her request, it morphed into a skirt. With a purple waistband:

I am very pleased with the casing, which is just awaiting elastic now (either buried in the debris of my studio, or in another of the mysterious "miscellanous" basement boxes). I unvented (Elizabeth Zimmerman's term for discoveries that you are pretty sure can't be brand new, but you made them yourself, nonetheless) the technique:

What I did: Purled one round to make the folded edge, then knitted a few more rounds until the casing looked wide enough. Then, slip the next stitch onto the right needle, pick up a purl loop in the appropriate round with the right needle, slip the left needle into the two from left to right (exactly like an SSK) and knit them together. Then I slipped the previous stitch over the one just knitted to bind it off. This made a very tidy seam / bound off edge. I left the last few stitches unattached, to leave room to insert the elastic, particularly since I imagine I may have to readjust it as she grows.

Going.....somewhere

Warning: introspection ahead. To go directly to fibre, scroll down to the start of the photos.

Still here? Today's brilliant insight: It's slowly dawning on me that I may not have a tremendous lot of success figuring out what to do next with my life until I understand and accept (I've managed to avoid that one for 38 years) who I am.

My original, unshakable career goal ran something along the lines of: go to medical school, head off to a third world country and save it from war, poverty and disease, die young (and gloriously). This was based on two (possibly unsound) premises: Firstly, that being fundamentally unworthy, only a really BIG achievement could justify my existence, and secondly, that I was going to be alone forever. (Number 2 seemed logical, having spent my teen years at the rock bottom of the social pecking order, possibly due to my utter inability to integrate into mainstream WASP culture after being an "ex-pat" Canadian from birth to age 12.)

It's just a little disconcerting to contemplate the possibility that my Shining Destiny was actually the product of low self-esteem, poor social skills and a not so subtle death wish.

The Big Goal did serve a purpose, though - like a giant booster rocket, it overcame the sucking gravity of despair, blazed through cloying layers of depression and social phobia, and (perhaps most usefully) scattered the insecure bullying men which my upbringing predisposed me to choose.

Along the way (and to my everlasting astonishment) I acquired a happy, healthy marriage and two beautiful children (so much for eternal loneliness). I made it to "doctor", but never quite managed saving the world. And now I'm adrift - the rockets are spluttering out, their job complete - and for the first time in my life I have no idea where I'm going.

Enough of that.


This (the little steek vest) is several rows into the armhole shaping and zipping along at an almost indecently speedy pace. I've snuck in a few extra rounds here and there for length insurance, since I have a long torso, but have otherwise followed the pattern exactly. And since I'm up to the armholes and have half the yarn left, I'm going to tempt fate and stop worrying that the extras will cause me to run out before I'm done.

Clearly I did not worry enough when ordering yarn for the tunic (what earthly good is Generalized Anxiety if you still run out of yarn?), but I am counting on this to save me:
I have only a vague (but brilliantly artistic) notion of how it is going to go. Which may change radically once I get started. Stay tuned.

Rethinking

I am blanketed of late with an uncomfortable restlessness, as though my psyche were an ill conceived beginner's sweater of cheap itchy wool, one armhole far too tight, the sleeves different lengths, and the seams all bunchy and ill-matched. I suppose there is some cyclical hormonal overlay at the moment (how humbling these little neurochemicals are in their ability to ride roughshod over what I like to call Myself) but the trend is undeniable.

I have been slowly leaving my Chosen Profession for years now and this business of keeping one toe in it for guilt and practicality's sake is increasingly feeling like a ludicrous sham. It's like when you run down a battery - and if you leave it sit for a while you can get a few more minutes life out of it, and you can do that a bunch of times, for increasingly shorter bits of life, until finally it's well and truly dead. After the initial burnout, I tried to convince myself that time off and part-time hours were recharging the battery - but in fact, I think I've just been draining off that final bit of juice at intervals for the last six years - and it's clearly almost gone.

What I want to do is not so hard to ascertain, what I ought to do is much more difficult, and what is financially practical to do - there's the rub. The Chosen Profession, soul-destroying though it has become, is very financially practical.

Back to fibre:

My discontent has extended to the knitting - the cute little top from VK: is not working out, due in approximately equal parts to the yarn substitutions I made and the fact that when all is said and done I just don't like the design as much as I thought I would. For one thing, the top panel is clearly not going to work at all in the yarn I chose, and for another the whole thing is a bit lumpy and cumbersome and probably looks much better in 2D on a lingerie clad model standing perfectly still with her chest jutting out unnaturally than it ever will on me in real life. I still like the concept of a lacy camisole in a variety of hues and weights of white / natural / cream yarn - it's just that I now think I Can Design a Better One Myself. We shall see - in the meantime, I have lived in this skin long enough to know that a hormonally heightened state of restlessness with an approaching deadline is not the time to embark upon a design adventure.

So, (hopefully) to the rescue, is this:

It's the little steek vest from Loop-d-Loop by Teva Durham, and I have substituted Jaeger Celeste: since I couldn't track down the recommended yarn. I achieved row and stitch gauge in the swatch, and I am fervently hoping this will work. I love love love the designs in this book, but I've recently been a little put off by the difficulties encountered by some other knit bloggers attempting to knit from another adventurous designer's new book - hopefully Durham has done the necessary test knitting. I'm going to be doing a lot of knitting from this book regardless, but I'm just not in the mood for glitches right now.

Speaking of glitches, it turns out I'm a couple of balls short of a sleeve for the tunic (and I like to think I'm a math whiz - arrgh) and Gedifra Korfu seems to have disappeared from the planet. Not to worry, I have a Cunning Plan, for which I have already ordered the yarn. More on that another day.

Rain's Splash

rain's splash

little looking glass

on a pregnant flower

Before and After

I pulled out my trusty sewing machine again yesterday, and remade this:
I ask you, how many men could buy their 7 months pregnant wife a cow suit and live to procreate again? In fact, it was from our favorite ice cream store in Whistler, and a very nice cotton flannel, although I only wore it a couple of times. The problem was that in order to go pee, which I was doing approximately 487 times a night at that stage, I had to unbutton the thing to the waist, wiggle out of the top, and drop the whole business to my ankles. Not only was this time consuming, but we were living at that time in an extraordinarily drafty little cottage - so it was cold, too.

Romantic that I am, I thought it would be a lovely sort of continuity to turn it into a flannel nightgown for my DD. In the end it was, but not before she had half tried it on, pronounced the sleeves a fraction too long, demanded that I remake the whole thing, tried to slam my sewing machine shut when I refused, spent a long time-out in her room for that, followed by a serious Dad chat, a heartbreakingly sincere apology and a lovely long hug. She's now been wearing it for the last 24 hours and has declared her inviolable intent never to remove it. Which should make for some high drama come Monday morning. I'm sure she was sent to teach me something - many days though, I just feel utterly inadequate to the task.

Here for posterity, is the remodelling process:

In other news, the first sock is finished, and fits perfectly:

My DH was astounded (first time ever my knitting has had that effect on him) by the alchemy of seamlessly producing a perfectly fitted sock. It would appear the next pair will be his.

And Now for Something Completely Different

Here is a recent bit of work from my "metal as a fiber" venture. This is ultra fine gauge fine silver. Like so many of my creative pursuits, my jewellery work began (last year) with the inability to find exactly what I wanted, followed by the fateful thought "I bet I could do that," and shortly thereafter, "what would happen if...". It has been great fun, and an enormously valuable learning experience parlaying a creative pursuit into a business venture.
I finally got going on a sock yesterday - my first try at the Harlot's swatch and go recipe. I'm very excited by the notion of finally understanding how to make a sock that fits My foot. I have made a couple of pairs in the past, and they were just OK . I have very slender ankles - apparently more slender than what typically goes with a size 9 foot, because sock patterns invariably slouch on me, and I hate that with a passion.

Is it wrong that I find the self-patterning yarn so terribly entertaining? I'm suffering a bit of yardage anxiety - the ball band has a little picture of two socks, confirming the webstore's assertion that there is indeed enough to make two socks, but it doesn't say how long or how large. I'm trying to tell myself that these are prototypes - after this, I will know forever and always how much yardage it takes to make socks for Me. Besides, it's a readily available commercial sock yarn, so it can't be that difficult to order another ball if I do run out. Nevertheless, I hate the out of control feeling of not Knowing For Sure.

I Knew This Would Lead to a Life of Crime

said my husband this morning, pointing me to this story. Is it possible even knitters could have a dark side? Perhaps the proliferation of expensive luxury yarns has created new levels of addictiveness comparable to the tobacco industry's ramped up nicotine levels, or super potent crack cocaine. Lured in by a simple ball of wool or even acrylic, fiber lust takes root and rapidly outstrips one's ability to pay. I suspect that there was likely some psychopathology going on in this particular story, although the bit about the husband calling the yarn store to come and get it struck me as funny - I wonder how many spouses have looked at their loved one's stash and thought "that's insane - s/he couldn't possibly have bought all that??" Food for thought when sneaking fiber into the house.

The story did make me think about the virtues of knitting: connectedness to the past and the natural world, creativity, patience, generosity of spirit, slowing down - I think of knitting as analogous to the "slow food" movement - "slow garments" - as opposed to instant gratification. What a pity if consumer culture were to overshadow these things, making knitting and its accoutrements just one more commodity to acquire. I wonder if theft of yarn on such a scale is symptomatic, if the humble act of creating beauty from simple materials is being lost to industry fueled consumer envy.

Paradoxically, knit blogging appears to both feed and mitigate this consumerism. I had no idea I needed hand painted luxury sock yarn before entering the blog world. On the other hand, there is a great deal of generosity in the sharing of patterns and techniques, as well as an encouraging number of small "cottage industry" fiber producers and designers. Hopefully the organic (or at least eco-friendly) fiber and textile movement will gather momentum here as well.

Interestingly, I discovered this story just as I was pondering with some trepidation our impending drop in income, and wondering what I would do if I someday ran out of yarn. Or more accurately, ran out of the kind of yarn I have come to believe I need. I don't believe that love of beauty is unhealthy (quite the contrary), but I think a little introspection regarding what leads me to believe I need certain products may be in order.

Recycled

As I have mentioned before, we are soon (less than 2 1/2 months now) moving to the incomparably beautiful town of Whistler, BC. We are also moving to a place with one less bedroom and less than half our present square footage, consequently I am taking the opportunity (like I have a choice) of severely culling our belongings. While compiling a stack of overly worn t-shirts, I had a brainwave. This was inspired, in part, by a number of blogs I've been reading dedicated to recycled and otherwise eco-friendly fashion. So, in characteristic impulsive style, I grabbed a pair of scissors and a nearby circular, flopped down among the heaps of sorted objects and produced this:

Even better, this photo was taken after subjecting the swatch to heavy machine washing and drying, and there is no discernable fraying. The swatch is fantastically elastic in all directions. I envision a very form fitting sweater, with a bit of fashion forward detailing. It's my aim to produce something that one might find in a funky boutique (as opposed to the "I hacked up stuff and made a craft at summer camp" look.) I'm thinking I may have to bleach and overdye the shirts to achieve a semi-cohesive color theme, since one t-shirt will make an inch or two (at most) of knitting around the body. I'm also compelled to ask myself whether this represents a virtuous investment in the planet, or just a more sophisticated variation of the packrat personality trait I'm trying so hard to shed. Well, the point is moot - the compulsion to create is in full force now, and skeins of dismantled t-shirts will be joining the stash.

Speaking of impulsively started projects, my DD's summer top is coming along. The fancy edge is complete, and now it's just knit, knit, knit to the armholes.

Dulaan 1 Finished

It's a lovely, sunny holiday Monday, and time to regale the kids with my favorite Victoria Day long weekend song : "The Pits" by Buddy Wasisname and the Other Fellers. I did, in fact, go gravel pit camping once during my two years in Newfoundland and Labrador, although not on the May long weekend and not exactly by choice. I was in Cornerbrook for the summer of 1991, doing the Obstetrics portion of my residency, and decided on a whim to drive north to the tip of the province and have a look around for the weekend. (Funny, it's been a lot of years since I did an 8+ hour drive on the spur of the moment.) Fortuitously, I arrived at L'Anse Aux Meadows just as the Gaia was sailing into harbor at the end of her historic Atlantic crossing. She was a sight to behold (as were the host of icebergs lining the shore) and I had the wonderful experience of being able to go on board and look around. After touring the Viking settlement at L'Anse Aux Meadows, I thought I would look for a campground to stay the night. The gas gauge was reading close to empty, and this was when I discovered, to my horror and amazement, that ATM technology had not yet reached that part of the province. Being Sunday, the banks were closed, and I did not own a credit card (having decided that I was already far enough in debt with student loans.) After a hasty bit of scrabbling through my wallet and between the seat cushions of my little pickup, I came up with enough loose change to buy just enough gas to get home. (And I do mean "just" - the last bit of the trip was exciting, and not in a good way.) Having no money for lodging, I found a nice little gravel pit by the side of the highway, and slept in my truck. That was my first and last foray into that particular provincial pasttime.

On to the sweater. My DH read yesterday's post and professed complete amnesia with regard to his alleged input on the cuffs. (He also presented a somewhat convoluted rationale of why this did not, in fact, constitute yet another failure to listen to me.) It turns out that, having spent several years sealing himself into an immersion suit against the likelihood of ditching in the North Pacific, he is of the firm opinion that snug cuffs in inclement weather are a Good Thing. So I redid the cuffs, and I have to say, he was right.

Simmering

The long weekend thus far has been rather cold and windy (I would love to say "unseasonably", but this is Saskatchewan, after all) so I took the opportunity to focus on a bit of thick wool knitting.

Now I'm in a quandry. The cuffs are really rather looser than ideal (DH thinks they look fine, but what does he know - Mr. Not A Sweater Kind of Guy.) Since I have a wee bit of a personal inclination toward letting perfectionism get in the way of finishing anything, I need to let this simmer for a day or two before frogging and redoing the cuffs. In any case, this has been an excellent learning experience in children's sweater design. I think in the next iteration of the Swatch Sweater, I will make the sleeve wider at the armhole and start tapering toward the cuff sooner. I will also make the neck opening bigger, thus allowing more of a collar, and consider using the stabilize and snip method for cutting out the front neckline, thus eliminating all flat knitting. "The Opinionated Knitter" recently arrived on my doorstep, and in my first quick scan I believe I saw EZ discuss that very notion. I'm also toying with an idea of my own for giving the shoulders a slightly fitted slope without ever sacrificing circularity.

While the cuff business simmers, I couldn't resist another quick cast on:

I know, I should be finishing one of my UFO's, but I've been dying to get on with trying one of the edgings from Nicky Epstein's books - the second one arrived Friday, and I haven't even knit any of the edgings from the first book I got last year. (Actually, that's not true, I knitted one of the ruffles in enamelled copper, but that's another story.) Also Lewiscraft is going out of business, and a couple balls of "machine wash and dryable" pink cotton for next to nothing jumped into my arms as I wandered by. This is another "don't want to have to plan ahead too much" kid design. It's going to be a funky little summer T-shirt for my DD. The plan is to knit the sawtooth edge until it goes around her "about right" and then pick up along the top edge and knit upwards in a circle to the armpits. At that point I have a general notion about short sleeves joined on in circular raglan fashion - I'll figure out the details when I get there.

The photo also illustrates my latest lace knitting brainwave - that is, to type the pattern into Word in BIG print and highlight the bits that are different each row in a different color. I think (hope) this will help me get the rhythm of the pattern more quickly, as well as preserving my eyesight and sanity.

Sexy Little Knits arrived in the mailbox today. I can honestly agree with the word "little", and there is definitely some knitting in it. When I ordered it, I harbored delusions that it might be along the lines of White Lies Designs. It is decidedly Not. The write-up at Amazon mentioned that she had "celebrity clients" - not normally something I take into account, but VK has of late been mentioning celebrities who knit - ie. Sarah Jessica Parker, Courtney Thorne Smith, so I thought perhaps there would be some classy, fashion forward, shapely (my definition of sexy) designs. Turns out, according to the book jacket, that her celebrity fan club in fact consists of Brittany Spears, Christina Aguilera, and the Hilton sisters. I could have used this information back when I had my credit card out.

Angora, if you were wondering. I'm trying to tell myself that I could learn some terribly useful shaping techniques from the pattern. Just as long as I don't have to actually make it. I quote "..doesn't a soft, fluffy camisole and panty set sound ten times more intriguing to knit than a winter sweater?"







For the record, the caption says "Faux suede is super sexy." I like to think I learn something with every new knitting book.










No. And I actually have long skinny legs - but.... No.










And you thought that 1/2 skein of yarn leftover wasn't enough for a garment.

I particularly like the "not for use in water" disclaimer on many of the bathing suits.







In spite of that extended display of cattiness, I am not in fact, going to return the book. (Postage back to Amazon would make it not worthwhile for one.) It does actually have a couple of cute mesh tops that would be OK over a camisole, and - hey - perhaps my DH will be inspired to take up the needles when he finally retires from blowing up stuff.

What I'm Looking For

It was gloriously sunny and hot today, with just a hint of a breeze to carry the delicious scents of spring across the fertile fields. Running into the wide blue sky scribbled with soaring contrails, a driving beat blaring in the ipod, I felt, for that moment, strong and optimistic and happy.

The truth is, right now I deeply envy my husband his profession. To leap straight into the sky with all that speed and power at the command of your fingertips, to blow stuff up - loudly, decisively and to unmistakable effect - well, it has a certain appeal.

What have I done for the last decade and a half? I've been Nice. Day after day, I've practiced Active Listening and Infinite Patience. I have educated, encouraged, pleaded, cajoled and begged patients to eat real food, quit smoking, exercise, ditch the jerk and generally DO something - anything - positive for themselves. And when they came back visit after visit to complain about how they still didn't feel good and their lives sucked and they hadn't taken even the most elementary step we'd talked about - I would patiently educate, trouble-shoot and encourage all over again. With very few exceptions, it was in one ear and out the other. I totted it up once - thousands upon thousands of hours of my life spent earnestly saying stuff that nobody listened to. It's enough to make a girl feel ineffectual.

As far as Good Listening and Empathy go - lets just say I still believe on some level in that lighting candles vice cursing the darkness business - but the darkness doesn't look any less dark then when I started, all the candles I lit seem to have gone out in a hurry, and I'm just about out of matches.

So what's a liberal peace-loving, gay-friendly, feminist, tolerant, breast feeding, kind and sensitive girl to do with all that righteous fury boiling a hole in my gut? Not this, apparently.

"But", to quote a song that brings me to tears every time with its way too close to the bone truth, "I still haven't found what I'm looking for."

Short and Sweet

As always on Mondays and Wednesdays, my marathon office days, this will be brief. Yesterday, while continuing the daunting process of sorting and decluttering in preparation for our upcoming move, I ran across this:

It's one of my very first garment designs - I believe I must have been 6 or 7 at the time, and decided my teddy needed a vest. (Actually, I still have the teddy - one of only two childhood toys I have kept for myself. She is in a rather delicate state, having undergone considerable love over the years, so she lives in the Christmas trunk and sits under the tree every year.)

Bags and Sleeves

First, an update on the progress of the Dulaan sweater. I picked up the front loops of the first column of steek stitches, which makes the steek flaps fold back nice and neatly against the body of the sweater. I am inordinately pleased with how easily this is coming together, despite being my first attempt at steeking. Assuming I have not called down calamity upon my head with that uncharacteristic display of hubris, I think I might try writing out and posting the pattern once I've finished. (Not that I have many readers, being new to blogging, but if I can work out how to put the link in the sidebar, someone may eventually find it useful). It lends itself well to using up leftover yarn or experimenting with two color patterns; in essence, it could be a sort of large swatch to play with. The two stranded format is a particularly good choice for the Dulaan project because of the warmth factor; I also expect it would be more wind resistant than a single strand bulky knit of comparable thickness because of the layers created by the inside strands. (Having been marooned on the prairies for six years now, I am painfully aware of the effects of a howling wind at -30 C).

Now, the bags. I've been looking for a knitting bag that would hold a small project (socks, or a baby sweater, or a little lace scarf), have pockets for the scissors and other bits, sling comfortably and unobtrusively over the shoulder while chasing the kids or going for long walks, and be dirt, water and weather resistant enough to drag around anywhere (pubs, playgrounds, mountain tops) while keeping its contents safe and pristine. Also, be inexpensive enough that I could have more than one and still afford to buy yarn to put in it. Drum roll...... my favorite gear store....... Mountain Equipment Co-op had the answer. These were $15 each, exactly the right size with a long adjustable shoulder strap and loads of useful pockets. MEC products are always top quality, I have the satisfaction of knowing that the materials and labor were responsibly sourced, and it's a Canadian company. (No I don't work for them, I've just spend the equivalent of
the GNP of a small country there on backcountry camping / hiking / running gear over the years.)

Guinevere Knits

The lovely and talented Guinevere, the Irish wolfhound.

Perhaps feeling a little intimidated by the virtuosity of her hero, the inimitable Gromit.

Mother's Day

Today was a lovely Mother's Day. Mimosas in the tub, with a little treat from LUSH to perfume the air and soften the skin, while the DH cooked brunch.

Despite the "help," it turned out spectacularly: Eggs Benedict with lox and Hollandaise sauce - made by the Man himself, from scratch - smooth and creamy and perfect. No, you can't have him.

No Mother's Day post would be complete without a tribute to my own mother, although I won't encroach on her privacy with pictures. It was she who taught me to sew, as early in life as I can remember. She invited a friend over to teach us both crochet when I was six, and encouraged me as I taught myself to knit a few years later. Most importantly though, she taught me not to be afraid to try anything that caught my eye. She instilled in me the notion that there was nothing I couldn't make if I just took my time, read the instructions and worked at it patiently. And if there were no instructions, or we couldn't afford to buy a pattern? That just meant some careful measuring and a bit of figuring, that was all. Although she delegated the task of math teacher to my father during the early home schooled years, it was she who taught me the "can do" approach to problem solving that resulted in my aptitude for algebra. Her seemingly inexhastible stash cupboard always yielded up just the right bit of fabric or yarn for my projects, and though money was tight, she was unfailingly generous with materials.

Arthritis prevents her from doing much needlework any more, but as always, she has adapted and moved on - painting now. I hope with all my heart that I can pass on her legacy to my own children.