Knit Sisters

Well, back here at the ranch, some of us (dare I say), are not really quite as interested in baseball as others.  I know, I know, bite my tongue.  Sorry, sis.

I did manage to get out this weekend, though.  Howard and I went to the Renaissance Festival in Kansas City, which was great fun.  I have many happy memories of going to the Festival when I was a pre-teen and a teen, and it really hasn’t changed all that much, except that it’s more crowded.  Both a good and a bad thing, I suppose.

Of course, many people come in costume, like these little children.

You can see from their little shoes that at least one aspect of the Festival was authentic–that is to say, the mud.  In some places it was practically ankle-deep.  I really felt kind of bad for all the women in beautiful period dress whose skirts were three inches deep in mud.

Then there were the Festival performers, like these ladies holding gorgeous and deadly birds of prey.

That second picture is a bit blurry, but she’s holding the cutest little owl you can imagine.  Deceptively cute, if you’re a mouse.

Lots of people brought their dogs for the day, which seemed like a great idea and made me wish I had thought of bringing Hugo.

Until I remembered his unfortunate penchant for picking fights with other male dogs.

Huzzah!

So there I was—a weary and broken Yankees fan in exile in the Puritan North—thinking the unthinkable: that my bet with Laura on the American League Championship Series was going to bust me down to being a de facto Red Sox fan. But then I really got to thinking.

In fact, I realized, this is a win-win situation!

To wit: if the Red Sox win, I get sock yarn. And if Cleveland wins, the Red Sox lose. Sending sock yarn to Laura will be my pleasure.

I’m not sure why I didn’t see this before.

In any case, I think we can all agree that it would be poor form to dwell here on the staggering 10-3 victory of Boston over Cleveland last night. Besides, as Laura has pointed out, it is a seven-game series and baseball is proverbially not over until it is over.

Before I head off to watch Game Two, however, here’s what I did during Game One:

Completed scarf for Alex. Three skeins of Rowan Cocoon in color Mountain.

Close up:

As you can see, the pattern is really quite simple—perfect for knitting during a baseball game! For all its simplicity, it also shows off the fiber.

And now, fifteen minutes to game time… Gotta run me down a frosty brew (we drink Sam Adams over here, natch!) and some CrackerJack.

Well, I am back here in the Midwest after an exciting and whirlwind time on the West Coast.  It was really a lovely time, of which you shall hear all the details, ad nauseam, in further posts, but I’d like to dedicate this post to the wedding itself, which was beautiful and touching.

Ellen looked beautiful, naturally, (of course I’m not prejudiced, being her sister and all) and her dress was beautiful, too.

The wedding itself took place on the Marin Headlands, at the Point Bonita lighthouse, a gorgeous and windswept place, from which we could see not only a spectacular view of the Pacific, but also, simply by turning around, a view of the Golden Gate Bridge.

 

The wedding ceremony itself was held on the near side of the lighthouse point, for the simple reason that some among the wedding party proved unwilling to brave the rickety bridge.

                                                                    And can you blame them, really?

Nevertheless, there were a few among us, including the bride and groom, who braved the bridge after the ceremony for a photo op.

 

I have many of these beautiful pictures of Ellen and Alex against the backdrop of the rocky Pacific coast, so I had to choose just a few to share with the world.

 

I preceded them across the bridge, and got a few shots of them coming back across the bridge, unplanned but oddly evocative of walking down the aisle together after the wedding.

My wish for Ellen and Alex? 

May you cross the exciting, at times treacherous, bridges of life together, and cling tightly to each other when you see the dangerous rocks below.

Even as you read this, my mother, father, and I are en route to Ellen’s wedding in sunny California!  (Well, Lord willing and the creeks don’t rise!)

So, Ellen and I ask for your good wishes, thoughts, and prayers that everyone will remain on their best behavior for just a few days of togetherness.

Meanwhile, our writing chairs will remain empty for the rest of the week.

Back next week with the full report of wedding adventures!

This weekend was our citywide garage sale.  (Although, as Harvey astutely pointed out to me, calling Savannah a “city” is a bit of a stretch.  “Townwide garage sale would be more accurate,” he said, and I have to agree.)

But, aptly named or not, Harvey and I spent some quality time running down bargains and looking over other people’s old junk.  And we found some real treasures in amongst the crap!

1.  These handy little spice jars.

2.  Some useful Tupperware items.  (Since moving out on my own, I have very few food-storage type containers.)

3.  A couple of small coolers/Thermoses.  Always handy.

4.  An ice cream scoop, a silver pie server, and a small Christmas tin, which will be squirrelled away to be used at Christmas for giving cookies.

5.  Three brass candlesticks, of the romantic “Wee Willie Winky” variety.  I have a vision of myself, enveloped in a silky wrapper, with long, loose tresses tumbling down my back, using one of these candlesticks (with a candle in it, naturally) to espy dark and mysterious corners and cupboards.  (Never mind that I don’t own a silky wrapper, nor do I have long tresses any more.  I can dream, can’t I?)

6.  Two bookcases, badly needed at my place.  You can see some of my knitting books have already taken up residence on the second one, there.

7.  A large basket and a cool spindle, which was labelled a “yarn winder.”  Hah!  Those people obviously know nothing!  Nothing!

8.  A wire shelving system, which came with 42 sides, a steal at only $5.  (A representative sample shown here.)

9.  A stoneware bowl, good for holding fruit, onions, or other such sundries. 

10.  Eleven very acceptable wine glasses for only $2!  $2.00!  Yes, indeed. 

11.  A new bike for Harvey, not pictured.  He is absolutely happy as a clam about this, and wants to ride all over town, right now.

12.  And, saving the best for last, an almost brand-new pair of Dansko clogs, in exactly my size.  These are a $100 pair of shoes which I obtained for the low, low price of….wait for it….$7.50. 

It’s hard to describe how happy this makes me.  I love these shoes and already own two pairs in a couple of different colors.  Ever since I worked in a commercial kitchen, I’ve developed a slight addiction to these clogs.  Oh, my goodness.  Be still, my beating heart. 

Harvey and I went to Krug Park in St. Joe today to have a picnic.

We took Hugo with us, who told me that he would really like to catch a duck.

He said that would make his day, if not his whole week.  But I had to tell him no, that these ducks are not for eating.

He didn’t really understand, and told me that it was very unfair of me to spoil his fun in that way.

 

I think he still loves me, though.

Rumpelstiltskin is a getting to be such a big boy.  Thirty-one out of thirty-nine repeats finished.

I’m ashamed to report, though, that my attention wandered today, as it is so apt to do.  I started playing around with a couple of balls of Jaeger Celeste, a rayon/linen ribbon yarn. 

 

I’m still trying to figure out ribbon yarns and what works best with them.  What I like about them is the almost meaty feel they have when knit up.  What I can’t seem to ever come to grips with, though, is their lack of stitch definition.  Intricate stitch patterns don’t work out very well.

I’m beginning to sense a glimmer of a design coming to me, after working with a couple of simple lace patterns and ripping them out, fiddling with some different decorative decrease methods and ripping those out, and trying out two different needle sizes.

But it’s no picnic.

On Saturday I went with a group from church down to Kansas City’s beautifully restored Union Station

 

to see an exhibit of the Dead Sea Scrolls that is currently on display there.

For obvious reasons, we were not allowed to take pictures in the exhibit or even carry in our cameras, so here on the blog we will have to content ourselves with photos of the wonderful facade of Union Station itself, plus a few indoor photos such as this,

 

which I admittedly took more for the novelty value of having a son named Harvey myself than for any more erudite or aesthetic reason.

I also took a couple photos of this rather cheesy little intro display, because that was about the only thing Dead Sea Scrolls-related that we were allowed to photograph.

In that little cave were a few fake-looking scroll jars.

I guess you’ll just have to use your imagination about the rest of the exhibit.  Take my word for it, though, if you’re anywhere within striking distance of Kansas City, it’s definitely worth the trip. 

I took the Handsome Triangle shawl on the bus to work on.

 

I’m really, really close to the end of this thing.  It’s now taking about an hour (more or less) to get across one row.  At this point, I have one row left, plus the bindoff.  However, depending on how much yarn I have left,

(and you can see here that my cone of yarn is getting muy smaller) I may go ahead and do two more rows of the ruffle, making the final total of stitches (drum roll, please) 2580.  I don’t know, though.  I have a nightmarish vision of getting to within, oh, maybe about 30 stitches of the end of the last row and running out of yarn, necessitating tinking back over nearly two rows of 2500 stitches each. 

That would be bad.

My fourth and last class over the weekend at the Fiber Retreat was a three-hour class on Sunday morning with the lovely and talented Melissa Leapman,

 

entitled Full-Fashioned and Fabulous.  Although purportedly a class about fully-fashioned decreases and how to use them in your knitting, this workshop was really all about design and how to make your knitting fit and flatter.  As such, I found it very inspiring.

We got to see several of Melissa’s beautiful sweaters up close and personal, like this one from Hot Knits,

 

one of my favorite knitting pattern books.  I have actually made two sweaters out of this book, largely as written, which is of course rare for me.  One of those sweaters is the one pictured above, although I didn’t make it in the prescribed yarn, because (let’s face it) I never do.

We learned all about using matching decreases to shape sweaters, and how to place them in from the edge of the pieces to create flattering lines.  Several of the sweaters she showed us had self-finishing necklines that utilized fully-fashioned decreases, and we knit several small swatches to practice this technique on different knit fabrics:  cables, lace, and texture.

Melissa also showed us two sweaters that she had designed (including the red one above) that utilize fully-fashioned decreases and increases as a design element–moving cables or ribs around on the fabric to create flattering design lines.

Very inspiring and thought-provoking for a nascent designer like myself.

In all, I got some really great stuff out of this class, as well as the three spinning classes I took at the retreat.

Plus, I got to chat a bit with my friend Shelda.

                              Seen here wearing her beautiful cotton shoulder shawl (or is that a shawlette, Shelda?) with beaded fringe.

Anybody up for next year?

I had a lovely time at the Missouri Fiber Retreat this weekend, and came home having learned lots of new things, energized to start spinning like a fiend and inspired to work on my own knitting designs.

I took four classes over the weekend, three of them spinning classes, and one a design class with the keynote speaker, Melissa Leapman.

My first class on Friday afternoon was a class in spinning “designer” yarn (or as spinners refer to it, lumpy bumpy yarn) out of Lincoln wool.  Our teacher gave us a bag of naturally-colored Lincoln locks,

which we teased apart by hand, spun into a highly textured single, and then plied back onto itself.

                                        My neighbor and new-found friend Andrea’s lumpy yarn.

                                                      My own lumpy Lincoln yarn, not quite as highly textural as Andrea’s, but still pretty, I think.

Next stop:  Saturday morning and a class in spinning with angora bunny wool. 

I ended up not taking too many photos during this class, just because I was so busy trying to spin at least a little bit of each of the sample fibers our instructor passed out.  She gave us German, French, and English angora to spin, which we spun straight and unblended with anything else, and I also experimented a little bit with blending some German angora with Columbia wool on my handheld combs.

                                                      My mini-skein of German angora.

Saturday afternoon:  spinning three designer yarns with the lovely and talented Chris Hunsburger,

                                                               who happens to live up toward my neck of the woods, I’m proud to say.

Our first yarn was a lumpy bumpy mohair in much the same vein as the lumpy bumpy Lincoln of the day before.

Then we used the dyed mohair locks to make a corespun yarn, a technique in which you use a core yarn or thread and let the teased locks grab onto and wrap around the core.  There are endless possibilities with this technique, including using a commercial yarn as the core and letting some of the base yarn show through the wrapping fiber.

 

Our third yarn of the afternoon was a mohair boucle, a very, very cool technique which I had never experimented with before.   

Very cool, but also very labor-intensive.  First you have to spin the mohair singles.  Then you ply that single with a commercial thread (or yarn), letting the mohair spiral around the thread–putting tension only on the thread as you ply.  Every time you ply a little bit, you stop and scootch the mohair down on the thread, creating those little loops.  So you ply, stop, scootch, ply, stop, scootch.  Then, you ply the whole shebang with the commercial thread again, locking those little loopies into place. 

I think you can see that I won’t be making this particular yarn every day.

Coming Wednesday:  my class with knitwear designer Melissa Leapman.

Over the weekend, in addition to enjoying a number of delectable meals composed of broiled, skinless chicken, oyster crackers, and multivitamins, I also finished my NSF proposal. My guts immediately showed a marked improvement, making it abundantly clear that the NSF hates my guts.

The feeling, readers, is mutual.

Zeno took to camping out surreptitiously in my office chair during my ginger ale breaks:

I was helping you by checking your citations. I swear!

I caught him there again today:

Man that works as hard as I do all night—wink, wink!—needs his afternoon nap, know what I’m sayin’?

You may have noticed the beautiful Clapotis that forms such a lovely backdrop for this invasive pest of a cat. My sister made that for me from handspun. It is absolutely wonderful. I understand why Zeno wants to sit close to it, but I do not approve.

But enough about that fool cat. Back to our weekend! So in between sparring bouts with both my grant proposal and Zeno, I also participated in a ballet class at my gym. As you know, I like to learn new things and enjoy new experiences, and I had been eyeing this class for some time. My sister and I briefly took ballet lessons as children, so I figured I could more or less manage, especially given that a ballet class at a gym ain’t exactly auditions for the ABT.

You may have also realized that at certain moments I am overconfident in my abilities.

My fondest hope now can only be that my disastrous flailing, my uncoordinated flinging about of limbs, my thuddingly earthbound attempts at leaps were of some comic value to the other women in the class. None of them actually pointed and laughed, but that merely indicates that they have good manners. Or absolutely no sense of humor.

But no experience is wasted on the lifelong learner! I learned, for instance, that even if you are an unspeakably bad dancer, the muscles in your legs will ache in funny spots the following day. I am wearing these aches as a proud mark of having given my all in a futile enterprise.

In fact, I’d really like to have a small trophy to commemorate my dancing days. Something on the order of the one I got at the age of ten after a fruitless and intermittently humiliating season of t-ball. While other children received the “Most Valuable Batter” or “Most Valuable Outfielder” awards, I and others of my accursed kind—the unathletic child—received a small trophy with a cheap plastic batter atop. The little plaque glued to its fake marble base read, “T-Ball: I Tried.”

Ballet: I Tried.

The afternoon’s other lesson was this: there is a reason why slightly round (but still lovely, of course), middle-aged (but still vigorous, heaven knows) women are not actively sought out by the American Ballet Theater and the New York City Ballet and the like. And the reason is that when we dance, we look like great, lumbering hippopotami. No one, frankly, would pay a dime to watch it, unless he badly needed a chuckle.

I had an idea about how to turn my dancing into a money-making venture, though. Any of you who think you might be dancers of my stripe are welcome to go in on this. Here’s the plan: we hire a recital hall and we advertise free admission to a sensational new dance performance.

Yes, admission will be free. But they’ll have to pay, and pay dearly, to be allowed to leave.

Believe me, we’ll be rich women before the night is through.