A Welcome Break from Winter Reality

Hello again.  For those of you who live in the more frozen parts of the world, you’ll be happy to know that the tropics are still wonderfully warm.  We left the Midwest on a cold blustery day in late January when the thermometer could only manage a dazed and windblown 8 degrees.  Most of a day later, we stepped out into a balmy 78 degrees.  Lovely! 

Hawaii isn’t a place that I would have visited on purpose, exactly.  Like Florida, it’s one of those places where people flock in such numbers that a visitor can feel like a very predictable cog in the tourist machine. But in any case, my husband had a business trip there and I was permitted to tag along for 12 days in the sun. 

The volume and variety of ways to separate a tourist from her money in Hawaii are truly amazing.  And it is somewhat surreal to find almost every tour, every brochure, even every menu available in Japanese.  I’m a bit bemused by the sight of all those tiny Asian teens running around in their mini-skirts and $300 Ugg sheepskin boots – in 80 degree weather – while they frantically search for something else to buy.  (I’ve never quite seen the point of LeSac and probably will never live at a socioeconomic level lofty enough to consider purchasing a Ferrari – but the options are there in Honolulu, by God.)  And like any city with temperate weather, there are a significant number of persons caked in grime and sleeping in doorways or under park benches.

Once out of the city, I found the land to be beautiful and the buildings to be somewhat shabby and sad (excepting the occasional high end resort, of course).  Iz sings a song about the changes to the Hawaiian lands over the last century, with major highways squeezing through throngs of sky-high hotels.  I learned that the Hawaiian population numbers have been in a free-fall dive for generations now, and are in real danger of being wiped out.  I toured Iolani Palace, the only royal residence in the United States, and learned about the coup which removed a good Queen from the throne in order to facilitate American annexation.  I learned about the battles to unify the Hawaiian Islands, which were often decided by European weapons.  My impression, over and over, was that the Hawaiians had a pretty good thing going until the Europeans came and screwed it all up.

But the ocean life is astounding.  I have become somewhat more “fluffy” over the years, and the resultant buoyancy let me almost rest without effort on the ocean surface.  I shared the water with Spinner dolphins, Honu turtles, and an incredible variety of fish.  A bright blue-green parrotfish as long as my arm swam lazily by me to crunch on the coral a few inches from my hand.  And three Humpback whales staged a “heat rush” or mating competition right off the bow of our boat, popping back to the surface every few minutes to breach and float languidly around in post-coital bliss.  I soaked in the beauty of a thousand blossoms, was surrounded constantly by fountains and statuary, and rode a mule down the incredible north sea cliffs of Moloka’i.  And like God looking back on creation, I looked back over my trip and decided that it was good.

When Mother Nature Gets Delusional

I was having this great dream just before I woke up this morning.  It involved wandering casually through a sunlit meadow, bordered by a few maples.  It's an image reminiscent of my early years in the Berkshires, possibly flavored with the peace I find on my property here in the Midwest. There were false sunflowers, and liatris, and some wonderfully overgrown lavender.  Warm sun, bright colors, gentle breeze - I should have known it was a dream.

Instead, I woke to grey morning skies menaced by the naked black branches of dormant trees outside my bedroom window.  This is the end of an apathetic little excuse for a January thaw - just enough to exchange some of the snow in exchange for a cold, dismal rain.  We didn't actually see much sun, and the melted snow has now formed dangerous little patches of ice in unexpected places.  And it's supposed to get colder and colder for the rest of the week.

The thing about living in the Midwest is that you have to expect the weather to screw with your head.  It's January, and Spring will not be here for at least another 3 months.  Dreams are just a way of expressing your desire for what you know in your waking hours to be unreasonable.  But then answer me this:

Do daylillies dream? Because otherwise, this one is crazy.

A Study in Self-Justification

My husband and I are heading off on Friday for a long-anticipated trip to a warm climate.  The forecast is for a high of 9 degrees here at home on Thursday, and a high of 78 at our destination on Friday.  I can live with this.  But with a 15 hour flight each way and relaxing downtime in between, I'm obviously going to need to bring along some knitting.  Something that will not get sweaty or uncomfortable in my shorts-clad lap.  And given the number of projects already in need of my attention and the somewhat sensitive nature of my budget, it ought to be something either already in my cue or ready to jump out of my previously purchased stash of yarn.  I'm thinking socks.

I've done socks before.  Many pairs of thick felted wool socks according to my brother's pattern, and exactly three pairs of finer-gauge socks:

1. A pair in a basic pattern using the Red Heart sock yarn with aloe, which really wasn't that bad to work with.  That's the pair of socks which taught me my gauge was a bit too loose for the heel and toe, and that when the pattern said it needed 20 rows of ribbing, it really did need it.  I have to be quite a bit behind in my laundry before I wear those socks.

2. A pair in a lace pattern, made with some fabulous silk blend picked up from my favorite alpaca shop, which were requested specifically by my Father as a gift for his new wife.  I never would have done them for anyone else, but Dad almost never requests knitting and I wanted to honor his faith in my abilities.  I found out after the socks were delivered (and after hours and hours and hours of knitting lace on tiny needles) that his wife is also a knitter.  I've often wondered since what she really thought of those socks - but he gave them to her when I wasn't there, so I didn't get the chance to watch her reaction.

3.  A pair made for my own use out of some yarn from the sale rack at JoAnn's, mostly to keep my fingers busy during the videos and tests while I was substitute teaching.  They're still sitting in my work basket, waiting for me to weave in the ends and put them on.  I really should do that, but I'm a bit afraid that the "loose heel" issue from #1 will resurface.  So long as they're still in the work basket, I can pretend that they'll be perfect.

So here I am, with another whole skein from the purple/pink/blue silk lace socks but with some emotional scars from my loose heel stitch problem.  Also, I do owe my friend Candy a pair of socks in recompense for the CPR certification course she taught on short notice in my living room just for me and my daughter.  And I found a toe-up pattern on Ravelry which might side-step the loose stitch issue.  And sock yarn packs small.

So, monogamy be damned.  I think I'm taking the purple silk for me, and some sturdy merino for Candy.  Wish me luck.

Keeping Me Honest: Einstein Jacket

Heather is what Rick calls one of my "imaginary friends."  She is a friend of my cousin Julie from her college days, and lives in the greater Chicago area (I think) with her husband and kids.  I have never met her in the "real world," but was chatting with her one day about her 10 year old son who uses a wheelchair and finds it difficult to wear a coat without it bunching uncomfortably in the back.  Apparently they make coats which split up the back, specifically to address this problem - but they are gawdawful expensive not cheap.  So I thought I'd try to make the little guy a sweater coat which split up the back.

I wandered around and looked at various patterns, and consulted with the online knitting community.  A very nice lady donated her knitting machine and a book of patterns for "special people," and I'm sure I'll put it to good use eventually - but the thing was a bit intimidating and I just never found the right moment to try it out.  But in the meantime my friend Nadine was just finishing an Einstein Jacket from Sally Melville's The Knit Stitch book, and it occurred to me that the pattern would be ridiculously easy to modify for a split lower back.  The entire lower section of the jacket is one long garter stitch rectangle, reminiscent of the "scarf from never-ending hell" which becomes the first project of almost every new knitter.  So, instead of one long skinny rectangle I made two rectangles which were each just a bit more than half the total length called out by the pattern.  Overlap the two back edges when picking up the stitches for the center back, and voila! I have a sweater coat split up to about mid-back.  (I just hope the tiny overlap of stitches doesn't make a weird bump in his back when the sweater is being worn.)

I started with 2 one pound cones of Lamb's Pride Bulky in their "Grassy Knoll" color (and can't get Kennedy out of my head for some reason).  I also have a single skein of a matching medium green in worsted weight; I'll ask my friend Tammy to single-crochet around the edges with it, but if push comes to shove I can also use it double-strand for cuffs and collar or something.  Worst case scenario, Oregon Trails on Ebay will certainly have more of the variegated green, although I'd rather not pay for more shipping.

The pattern is meant to be fairly loose and the upper torso naturally droops down to make the first few inches of sleeve - but the whole thing looks big to me.  I may have to find a 10 year old to try it on.  What do you think?

There Was An Old Lady Who Lived By the Sea

This week, I've been blessed with a houseguest in the form of my cousin's 4 year old daughter, Lydia.  Now, it's been 14 years since I had a little girl in the house and we quickly discovered that our home was sadly lacking in things like sippy cups and age-appropriate toys.  We've also been re-aquatinted with the incredible energy and determination of the young, and have had the chance to watch The Tales of Devereaux over a dozen times (and counting).  Good times.

Still, it wasn't until about half-way through the week that I thought of singing to Lydia.  I love to sing, but my contralto voice seems awkwardly low and out of place in many settings.  Also, in recent years my teenagers have generally dreaded my singing and have discouraged it whenever possible.  But here I was, tooling down the highway with a little person perched on her booster in my back seat, and I happened to toss out my rendition of There was an old woman who swallowed a fly.  Go figure - Lydia loved it.

Since then, I have sang There was an old woman at least 6 times, always by request.  I've also belted out I enjoy being a girl, which I still think is fun (if cringingly dated and sexist), and On top of Spaghetti and You are my sunshine and Air Force Blue.  I even attempted Puff the magic dragon, although I can never remember all the words.  Lydia tells me that I have a good voice, and she's requesting my singing even more often than Devereaux the mouse.

I love this stuff.  Lydia, I'll sing for you anytime.

I miss blogging

I used to have a blog, and I made it a priority to blog almost every day.  I blogged about my knitting, my photography, my family, and occasionally (very discretely) about my job.  I didn't have a wide audience - mostly cousins who wanted to keep up on my latest adventures and knitters who stopped by for free patterns.  But it was kind of nice to show off my photography, and to receive condolence messages from across the country when my cat died.

But then in January of 2009, I lost my job.  As I did interviews here and there, I discovered that people found my blog by googling me.  Prospective employers were reading my comments about managing stress and my theories comparing the interview process to a somewhat awkward first date.  I stand by those comments and made sure they were phrased tastefully - but I didn't get a job.

Meanwhile, I had been marketing my photographic prints at a couple of farmers' markets with limited success and had done some senior and family portraits.  With the job market looking awfully barren, I decided to pursue the photography more intensely. Unfortunately, the name of my old blog was very similar to the name of my new business, and potential customers kept finding my blog instead of my business website.  Generally speaking, photo customers don't really care about my pattern for knitted Easter eggs which convert to golf club covers, no matter how whimsical said items may be.

The final straw was my change in schedule.  I went from a standard 40 (okay, more like 45 or 50) hours a week in an office, working as a professional in a traditional field, to a haphazard schedule which might have me teaching 9th grade German as a substitute teacher one day and matting photographs of cows the next.  Some days I barely sit down to a computer except to check my e-mail and hack away a little bit on Mafia Wars.    This makes daily blogging less likely.

But like I said, I miss the blogosphere, so we're trying a fresh start.  Unless you're already a family member, here's all you need to know about me for now:

1. I'm an empty nester, more or less.  
1. My son Lucas is pursuing a mechanical design degree but really would be better suited as a librarian - not the person with the Master's Degree in Library Science, just the patient person who reshelves the books and helps the kids find information for their homework and so on.  (Maybe someday he'll be able to compromise and manage a technical library for a firm.)  
2. My daughter Tasha is in her freshman year at the state university, charging single-mindedly towards the medical degree she's wanted since she was 9.
3. My blue-heeler mix dog, Luna, is largely filling the gap in my attention caused when my kids left.  She's 18 months old, 37 pounds, has bi-color eyes (both blue on the bottom and brown on the top), and is training to be a therapy dog.  I dote on her more than may be completely healthy for either of us.
2. My husband and I have been married for decades, and life is still very, very good together.  He's my best friend and the one person on this earth that I absolutely could not do without.  
3. I have a dozen or so different and wildly varied careers in my past, as well as a pile of college education.  In one sense, I'm not using much of it right now; in another, I'm using all of it every day.
4. I used to be a voracious reader, and deeply regret that I just don't seem to get to it like I used to.  (Okay, modify that to be "a voracious reader of books."  I still read dozens of websites and blogs daily, which I find stimulating and interesting but which lack a certain long-term continuity.)
5. I am a highly motivated knitter, although I can never quite catch up with the ambition of my dreams.  I do not crochet.
6. I am semi-vegetarian, in the sense that I eat dairy and eggs and fish but not the meat of land animals.  This has less to do with PETA and more to do with my interest in avoiding the synthetic hormones and other fun things in commercial animal feeds which may be linked to breast cancer.

That's about it for now.  Welcome to it.