handstories

Story #_________

    "How Stories Tell Each Other"

    I think this one is done.  Maybe a border, but not today.  It was started a year ago, some of the stories have faded, but others showed up.  Today I wondered if maybe all of my pieces could/should just be titled "Story".

    Stitching has been beyond slow this last week, almost at a standstill.  I don't know if it's the shift into autumn, this season in life, or what, but I find myself with very little to say.  There's a lot going on, and not, and last Saturday night, somewhere between the airplane and getting home, my knitting bag fell by the wayside- the yarn, needles, favorite knitting supplies, best reading glasses, a half knit sock (I had just turned the heel), and my wallet were inside.  Didn't realize it until Monday.  Sometimes I just overwhelm myself.

Change of pace

    It has been a good, and unusually social week with lovely interesting people, and this introvert is on overload.  

    Stitching was even a struggle.  I managed to patch my jeans, badly.   

    A green sock was finished.  

    Sunday was wedding dress shopping with best woman friend (which proves how much I love her, because I didn't even do this for my own wedding).  Her criteria is- Not white, not slutty, and a little funky (she's hoping to make certain folks roll their eyes).  

    On the third trip out, I laid my hands on the two latest possibilities, saying, "One of these will be IT," because definitely none of the others had been.  Hallelujah, she looks good in both of them.  She just needs to choose, and then we'll start shopping for mine...sigh.

    A purple sock was started, because the green was just not doing it for me.  

    On Tuesday, K. very nicely offered to drive the five hours, to and from, to meet up with the women I'm having the art show/sale with in December.  Stressed about catching the ferry, and all of the unknowns of hosting a show, and tired out from teenager issues, and, and,...  When he made a wrong turn, I shouted at him, in near tears, "I am coming unglued!"

    He offered to bus home from the ferry and let me drive myself.  I apologized, and regrouped.  Eventually.

    Yesterday there was a little watercoloring.  Making these jewels is meditative and calming.

    There was also a haircut, long overdue inches and inches were cut off, in hopes of feeling a bit more presentable in the world.  We'll see.    

    Today, I so enjoyed Jude's latest entry in her Patchwork in Perspective class.  Her "skatchwork" technique was just the ticket to get things percolating again.  A very good brain and needle stretch.

    I also tried to figure out the best public transportation route to get to the airport on time tomorrow with the same friend.  After much thinking and rethinking, and sending her the plan, it became clear we should just meet there.  As I like to have plenty of time to spare, to avoid the stress from fear of missing a flight, and she will most likely come dashing in during the boarding.

    "Where will you be?" she asked.

        "Sitting at the gate, reading a book."

    "And stressing that I'm going to be late."

        "Probably."

    And, because this week hasn't been busy and odd enough for my hermit lifestyle...  

    Tomorrow morning I'm taking a bus to the light rail, to the airport, and then we're flying to Las Vegas for 24 hours.  The star is packed and coming along.  Things are wild and weird over here.

This...

        Read the whole article here:  Knitting Has Always Been Political

    In other knitting news...  This swatch of "Persian Lace" is my contribution to the Barbara Walker Knitting Project.  It will be part of an exhibition and artist book that will pay homage to Barbara Walker ("who’s work in the knitting field has inspired - and continues to inspire! - generations of knitters.").  This will all be a part of Blue: The Tatter Textile Library in Brooklyn, NY.  I hope to visit this bluetiful gathering of textiles and wonders someday...

    When they sent the pattern I was to knit, I thought, "Easy-peasy, I can follow 16 rows of a pattern...".  I copied the pattern off of the computer, and sat down one evening with a glass of wine and a movie, the swatch was started, and started again.  "Ok, no movie."  And again.  "Ok, maybe another try tomorrow without the wine."  The next day without distractions didn't go any better.  "Maybe it's the yarn?"  Switched yarns.  Nope.  Again, and again, I even recopied the pattern in larger, easier to read, writing, but still something was wrong in row 15 every time, the count was off.  I even tried it in orange so that I could really see the stitches.  Flop.  Ordered Barbara's book from the library, to work from the pattern directly.  Flub.  Sixth, seventh, eighth try... Fail, fail, fail.  

    "Sorry, Barbara, the pattern is wrong!"  Knowing what it should look like, I was determined to rewrite the pattern.  Row 14 was worked carefully stitch by stitch... and then, finally, the light bulb came on.  I had written it out (twice) and read it wrong every time.

    "K-1b" not "K-1fb"  The ninth time was the charm.  

    Happy and relieved, I went to find K. so as to explain it all to someone (even if he didn't care, and it's a foreign language to him).

    So sorry, Barbara, I should never have doubted you!

purple days/daze

    We had a very nice time away.  Good weather, delicious food and a fancy hotel (they brought us fresh cookies each evening!)  We walked, talked, relaxed, and these socks were started.  I'm not much of a purple person anymore, but I'm loving this yarn (it doesn't hurt that its colorway is called "moon phase".

    There were purple times...  In fourth grade I was jealous of friend who had her bedroom painted the same grape shade of the socks worn by our favorite teen idol.  I surprised my college roommate by painting our room lavender one weekend.  (I also crayoned a big bunch of balloons on one wall.  At the end of the year, unable to scrub it off, I leaned a mattress up against it in order to pass the room inspection.)  And almost all of the socks I wore during my thirties were the same shade of eggplant.  

    More lavender memories...  It was Grandma Blanche's favorite color.  The trailer she lived in was trimmed in violet and surrounded with gladiolas, irises and sweet peas.  She even bought a lilac nightgown to be buried in.

    Today I stitched down amethyst seas and thought about family, mostly Dad.  He would've been 75 today.  He turned 21 the day before I was born.  For the first time, there isn't a phone call for our birthdays, saying and not saying the same old things.  

    It's all such a tangle, and then things change.

too many things

    The afghan is almost done, just the crocheted border to do...or not (those yarn ends you see dangling have been woven in).

    And this stuffed pillow-ish thing is begun for Moon.  Because he likes the critters I've stitched/painted.  And if a teenage boy likes something his mother makes, you better believe she's going to milk it for all it's worth!

Saint Woman, 2015 by Amy Sherald 

    And, because there is all the time in the world, a friend and I went to the Seattle Art Museum yesterday.  I can't tell you how happy I was to see a work by Amy Sherald in real life.  Apologies for my poor photography, I wish you could see how this blue really glows...

        While visiting the museum, a storm was brewing in Seattle.  Later, out on the street, the wind blew the bandana right off of my head!  Luckily, a man in the street saw it coming and stomped on it for me.  Power was out all over the area, our house included.

    Luckily, there was take-out by candlelight and Moon had a band concert in the evening.  We enjoyed the concert (and the heated, lit auditorium), and then went home to sleep under plenty of extra blankets until the electricity was back up at midnight.  

    Now back to stitching...tick-tock!

tick-tock

    These squares have been ten years in the making.  (This pattern)

    Made from left-overs after knitting socks, or impulse "It's so pretty, I'll just buy one skein." shopping.  

    The plan had been to make an afghan big enough to cover our bed. 

    But that might take another ten years.  The idea of a lap blanket for a Christmas gift seems just fine. 

 

    There's one week left...plenty of time!

soupless days

    Friday morning Moon stayed home with a bad cold.  By midday, feeling a little sniffly myself, I went to the store for soup makings.  There were only two leeks to be found and the recipe called for six, and then the search for buttermilk for the biscuits Moon wanted took way too long.  Leaving the store feeling weepy, I wondered if maybe I was sick, too?  Ha.  An hour later I was in bed shivering and sweating with a piercing headache into yesterday.  (There were even dreams of my head being used as a pincushion.)  K. took very good care... tucking in the quilts, bringing juice and a pretty leaf from the beautiful autumn going on outside.

    Today I'm upright, feeling much better, eating some, knitting a little (on the never-going-to-be-finished afghan), and being glad that at least it was a quick virus.  Maybe I'll make that soup tomorrow?

Crazy busy

    Ok, so maybe it wasn't a good idea to run out of town for a week near the end of the school year.  There is a lot of scrambling in catching up, keeping up, and scurrying, to get through this last week of school.  

    Moon has had band concerts (with one more performance to go), finals, projects, a first real job interview and training.  (Which begins next week, which required half an hour of finagling to reschedule appointments.  Including the orthodontist, which I had so carefully planned to happen NOT at rush hour again...sigh.)

    K. has much going on at work, and out of town trips being planned. (Plus he has my stress and whining to listen to.)

    Blue is enjoying, and tired, from his new summer job, while trying to squeeze friends into every other spare minute.  (We see him occasionally at meals, or as he goes out the door.) 

    My work has been mostly gathering art from the walls all around the school and organizing it to return to students before Friday.  In my efforts to be efficient, I've taken down (and had to rehang) the wrong displays three different times.  There were some nice moments with my first grade friend, who was not wielding scissors this time, and gave today a thumbs up while announcing that it was a "Great day!"  We colored popsicles and discussed our favorite flavors...blackberry, blue-raspberry, lime, and Pepsi (his, not mine!)

    Tonight we sweated (literally and figuratively) through our family singing group concert.  And, NO, I did not practice while I was away.  And, YES, it showed.  During the final run through, the talented woman who stands next to me asked which part I was singing?  "I have no idea.  Clearly not the right one!"  (She quickly traded spots so her voice could have a better angle into my ear.)  Gratefully, all reviews were lovely.  Our leader, she really is a miracle worker!)

    AND, it's Hot.

    All to say...that I've been knitting on, and finally finished, this hat that was started months (years?) ago, out of old handspun, because it took absolutely no brain cells.

red socks (& holes)***

   

    

 

    (The guys would be thrilled with this title, until they discovered it has nothing to do with baseball.)

    Knitting up socks for a birthday gift.  They will be late (as always).  The color- "ruby red," is something very different from my usual blue and gray wheel house.  

    They went to Moon's concert the other night.  Not ideal for knitting in the dark, but I made it work (did I mention they are late?).  The tricky part is that "slip, knit, yarn over, pass over, purl, repeat..." bit that happens over and over, every other row.  Going slow helped to manage the various stitches, but if I stopped (which did happen now and then during the great jazz performances), it was hard to remember which of the two rows I was on.  

    Ever resourceful (really, if you ever get stranded on that desert island , you do want me there), I used my earring to keep track.  

    Much to my mother's dismay, I have three holes between my two ears.  Rarely is there anything in the third one these days, so I moved one earring back and forth between two of the holes at the end of each row- letting me know where I was.  It worked great.  

    While stitching away, shifting jewelry and enjoying the jazz, my mind wandered around that third hole...

    My college roommate and I went to get them together.  It was a small conservative town, in the early 1980's.  The piercer at the pharmacy didn't understand what we wanted.  Explaining to us that there was no price for only one hole,  just two.  We explained to her that there still were going to be two holes, in two different ears, and that we would each pay half.  She disapprovingly proceeded.  

    And then, Mom's exasperation, "What will people think?!"  (Have any people ever thought about my ears?)  Later that year, afraid of the spectacle three earrings might cause at my wedding, she let me borrow her good pearls, with the condition they would be alone on my lobes.

    Remembering the wedding, and being in the roommate's wedding a week later (did we wear three for hers?), and backing up in time recalling when we both got engaged in that small conservative town at that small conservative college.  But there we were, both getting married, much to the shock of those who knew both of us.  (We loved our guys, but not the whole wedding scene or the magazines that others were so enthralled with.)  Someone made and posted an "Engaged" poster on our dorm room.  We crossed it out and scrawled "Encaged," "En-gagged" and "Enraged" over it.  (We are both still happily married, really.)

    So many memories tangled up in a little red yarn . . .

where I've been

    All right, I've done all I'm going to do.  Aside from the usual cooking, taxiing, holiday preparing, cleaning, etc... I've been Knitting with a capital K.  First up were these ornaments for the guys (pattern from this library book).  They were quick and easy.

    But then I thought I could whip up some small gifts for the guys...  This is when the foolish black hole of knitting began.  

    Moon had asked for that recycle can blue hat, and I thought matching fingerless mitts would be a good idea.  After knitting up one (not shown), I began to wondered if he would wear them?  (He often refuses to put on a coat, even when the car windows are covered in ice, and there was a snow day last year when the threat of losing his phone was the only thing that forced him to put pants on over his shorts.)

    So, I decided to start some for Blue, too.  When I asked Moon if he thought Blue would like them, he said, "Maybe.  Someone my age wouldn't, but a college guy might like them."  Oh, well.  The blue mitts were abandoned.

    Ok, just Blue then.  Blue's were being made from a black yarn (his favorite color) that was left-over from a past project.  One was finished, and it was clear that there wasn't enough yarn to make a second.  Ripped back, yarn weighed and measured, divided in half, notes made, and a blue band added.  

    Meanwhile, K. chimed in that he'd like a pair.  Fine, I'd finish up the blue ones for him.  The next night, while ripping out and reknitting Blue's again (because knitting black yarn in the dark evenings does not equal success), K. added that he'd really like a pair... in dark gray.  He's lucky he wasn't stabbed with one of those knitting needles.

    On Wednesday morning there was only one mitt for Blue.  It had taken two and a half days.  I figured the second one could be finished, and K. would get his gray yarn, still in a skein, with a promise.

    But then some Christmas magic happened.  

    The other three just fell off of the needles and were done this morning.  

    I am now drinking hot chocolate and eating my favorite holiday cookies- Spritz.  There will be no knitting tonight.