It started innocently enough....

....when I peeped into the window of an East Lansing shop window in May 2007.

 At the time my husband and I were living in Boston.  In town for a job interview, my husband was tied up most of the day - so I did what came naturally, and hunted down all the yarn shops in the area. I quickly discovered it was not going to be hard to be a knitter in mid-Michigan. I liked all of them, but my favorite had Habu yarn in the window. My favorite had local handspun yarn for sale. My favorite had yarns that I had heard of, but had never seen. My favorite had obscure books. My favorite had textile art on the walls.  My favorite was Woven Art.

*********************************************************************************

My knitting history is probably similar to many. I learned as a child, taught by my Aunt. My mother is a beautiful knitter, and I am sure she tried to teach me, but sometimes it is best to learn from Not-Your-Mother.  This skill was put by the wayside until I was in grad school in New York City. I was working nearly full time at a Contemporary Art gallery and working on my Master's degree in Islamic and Medieval Art History. I needed a stress relief. I needed something I could do as a special treat for myself once the dreaded language translation homework was finished. It didn't matter what I was knitting, just that I WAS knitting.

Knitting became increasingly important to me when I moved to Albuquerque, New Mexico in 2001. Away from family and friends, I found it daunting to find peers. But I had my knitting, and when I found colleagues who knit, we banded together at a local coffee shop, collecting secret knitters, lonely knitters, and teaching eager beginners as we went. Knitting provided me with a family where I had none and a community who understood my obsession. Knitting also gave me my best friend from that Knit Night in Albuquerque.

Two more cross-country moves found me in Michigan, with my face pressed eagerly up against the window. Once again it was knitting that provided me with friends and happy faces. And it was knitting that emphatically proclaimed what my career choice was going to be. I had started a second Master's degree in Library and Information Science, but a severe illness made me question whether that was my true path. And again, the siren song of yarn pulled me in.

I started working for Nancy at Woven Art with the idea that I would be a "business intern" - that I wanted to learn the business. And graciously, as ever, Nancy agreed. And I had a mentor. Just like that. I don't think either of us thought that I would one day buy her carefully grown business, but I tried to absorb everything that I could - teaching classes, working the Open Knitting nights to help 2 or 3 or even 8 knitters at a time, helping knitters pick out new projects, meeting with yarn reps and attending conventions. And Nancy has been generous with her knowledge, experience and yes, her opinions, through it all.

I am so honored to be Woven Art's next owner. But really, I feel that I am a custodian of this wonderful shop as it continues to work its magic on all who enter!

La Compostela: the finished Mitered Crosses blanket

The last few steps of a pilgrimage bring a whole host of mixed feelings.  There is relief that you have made it, gratitude that you are still (relatively) in one piece, and a sweet sadness that the adventure is over.  After walking 125 miles across northern Spain I stayed for a few days in a 16th century Seminary - pilgrims were allowed to bunk there for just a few pesos a night.  The views were spectacular as I watched the sun set behind the cathedral. And I spent a day or two reflecting on my journey.

I had my Credencial to remind me of each stop I had made along the way. (Mine says that I was traveling 'a pie' rather than 'en bicicleta' or 'a caballo'.) 

And my Compostela to prove that I had walked the kilometers.

For big projects, however, you just have the finished piece.  And surely, that is enough.  But each square reminds me of the journey.  

I remember starting this blanket on a cruise with a friend, and how, like the Pied Piper, it brought every knitter to me on a cruise ship of 6,000 passengers.  Knitters with knitting problems, knitters who spoke no English but knit a few stitches to show they knew how, knitters who hadn't picked up knitting in years, and knitters who deeply regretted leaving their knitting at home. (silly knitters!)

Pattern: Mitered Crosses Blanket -- for Japan. by Kay Gardiner. All the proceeds from the sale of this pattern continue to go to Mercy Corp to help respond to the earthquakes and tsunamis in Japan in 2011.

Yarn: Kauni Wool 8/2 Effektgarn in colors EB(orange, browns, greys) and EZ (blues). One ball of each color, each ball weighing 150g. 15 (+) skeins of Elemental Affects Natural Shetland Fingering in natural color mioget (I lost some ball bands on this yarn.) 1 skein of Elemental Affects Natural Shetland Fingering in natural color musket (darker grey - the lower left corner square is made with this.)

Needles: size US 5 for the squares, size US 6 for the applied i-cord.

Mods: Instead of 10 squares I chose to go for a full 25 and not have any blank spaces - my goal was to use up as much of my yarn as possible. My applied i-cord was made from bits and pieces of leftovers.

Some squares were knit during soccer games. Others were knit on a comfortable couch surrounded by other knitters. A few were knit on vacation, while one was knit while skyping with a beloved friend far away.

By happy accident my very center square is imperfect - three of the small boxes outlining the cross are actually grey rather than cream - because I was knitting in the dark and couldn't see I had picked up the wrong color.  And also by pure chance (since I decided to knit 15 more squares than the pattern called for) I ran out of yarn and had to buy more of the neutral color.  And because it came from two different growing seasons of a natural sheep color, one year was more white, then next, more brown.

And because I could, I kicked up my heels at the end of my applied i-cord, and striped a small section. Because my journey was over, and I was done.

El Camino de milagros

Big projects can be a real odyssey.

Well over a decade ago (and nearly coming up on two decades ago) I walked the pilgrimage route from the town of Ponferrada to Santiago de Compostela in Northwest Spain. It was a hard journey, both physically and mentally. I was 22 years old, and a young 22 for all that I lived in Brooklyn and had spent my teenage years trying to look like a punk rock girl.  I walked over 200 (125 miles) kilometers in about 6 days with a 40 pound pack on my back, no reservations, and a high school's education of Spanish. I was alone.  I was tired most of the time and undernourished, with heels blistered beyond the capability of wearing boots (thank goodness I brought Tevas along).  Though not religious, I experienced the little miracles that the pilgrims talked about - suddenly finding yourself several miles from where you started but not really noticing the miles covered, the unexpected discovery of food in your pack when you could have sworn you had nothing left, or one last bunk unfilled for the night because everyone else was walking in pairs.

I learned a lot from that trip.  As cliche as it sounds, I learned that it does take lots of little steps to make a big journey.  And that perseverance is rewarded in unexpected and spectacular ways.  As I walked into the valley of Santiago de Compostela I could see the cathedral spires calling me to the city center.

And I can see the spires now, as I bring a big project home.

I would love to finish this by the end of October, but I am not going to rush it. I want to enjoy the last few steps.

From the depths of memory

I have been spending most of my free time in the garden - pulling weeds, planting, transplanting, and mulching.  Sometimes Zeby tries to "help" by digging next to me. And when this happens a distant memory from my childhood surfaces. I must have had a children's book, perhaps featuring a dog or badger (?), who digs in the wrong places, because my brain will all of a sudden provide this little quote:

"Must not dig in the garden, must not dig in the sand....." and then a something-something about the seaside.

I have a feeling this may have been one of my childhood books that my parents read to me when I had to take my asthma medicine - then it was a sticky clear liquid that tasted like very fake peach or orange.

Anyway, my knitting time has shrunk dramatically, but I managed to get a swatch done.

And I have cast on and completed 6 rows or so. Not much, and not nearly enough progress for me to have a finished tank by Thursday when I leave for TNNA in Columbus.  Ah well. In the grand scheme of things it is unimportant!

Reminders

Sometimes I get a little stir-crazy. I long for road trips with my husband like we used to have when we lived out west.  The air harsh and thin, the dust ever-present. Sometimes I need a reminder of where I have been.  And sometimes it works to tide me over until I can travel again. But, only sometimes.

Painted Desert, 2003.

Ten on Tuesday: Things To Do Inside

...When It's Too Cold To Go Outside.  Playing along with Carole again on Tuesday! Let me preface my list with this story.

In November 2004 or 2005 I went camping with P and my friend Shannon in Chaco Canyon, New Mexico.  Projected temperatures were low.  But we had good sleeping bags and we brought lots of layers. Sadly, our tent was crap. As in, Target-bought summer-weight, non-insulated, and I think we even lost the rain-cap for it.  That night the temps dipped to about 14 degrees before the wind-chill.  With the 30-mile per hour winds the wind-chill factor brought the temperature down to the negatives. It was freakin' cold.  In the morning our bags and tent were covered in ice crystals from our breath condensing and freezing on every surface.  P braved the winds and scorched us some Pop Tarts for breakfast.  Then we got up and went for a 7-mile round-trip hike to see the Supernova Pictograph.  By then the temps were in the low 20s, but the windchill factor was still in play because of howling winds. But the New Mexico sun was up and when we found places sheltered from the wind we could bask in the sun like lizards.

Cold is relative after all. Some Floridians I have known have been just about crippled when the needle dips to 31 degrees. I have also known some Minnesotans to wear shorts and sandals when it is the same temperature. (Both lived in my freshman dorm.)

For me, it is really slush, sleet, or the ever-popular "Wintery Mix" that keeps me inside.  I hate to be both cold AND wet. Blech.

So, Ten Things to Do Inside When It's Too Cold To Go Outside

1. Create a nest on the living room couch, start a Thin Man marathon and knit.

2. Make soup! (See last Tuesday's post)

3. Re-organize the stash. Seeing all the lovely colors in my stash makes me realize that the seasons will change again. And that I am perhaps half squirrel.

4. Work on my Rigid Heddle Loom - weaving goes so fast, and it is fun to experiment. I am still working on some color studies.

5. Jigsaw puzzles by the fire. My favorite are the 1,000+ pieces. But make sure it is colorful!

6. Plan a vacation.  Ok, so my top two places I want to go right now are Iceland and Norway, not exactly warm-weather getaways, but it is the fantasy of the trip that is more important.

7. Design your own hat to knit.  The extra brain power required is warming.

8. Workout at home.  Sometimes I just can't get warm on super cold and damp days.  Using the treadmill, the Wii, or even doing a good intensity yoga workout warms me up.

9. Give yourself a full manicure/pedicure.  Don't skimp on this - break out your luxury moisturizer, your most fantastic smelling skin scrub and your favorite nail polish.  I have been known to put a rhinestone on my toe every once in a while, just for the added (and secret) pleasure.

10. Make an apple crisp.  There is nothing better than a home that smells of baking apples!

And heck, here is my mom's recipe:

Apple Crisp

5 cups peeled & sliced granny smith apples or other baking apples

Topping:
1/2 cup flour (I now use 1/4 whole wheat, 1/4 all purpose)
1/2 cup oatmeal
1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
4 Tbs butter at room temperature

Preheat over to 350 degrees. Places apples in a greased 8 x 8" glass baking dish.

Combine flour, oatmeal, sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg. Cut in the butter with two knives, or use your fingers.  Topping should get lumpy - about the size of peas. Sprinkle mixture over the top of the apples before baking.

Bake for 30 minutes (I usually need to do 45 minutes) or until tender and topping is golden brown.

I have started experimenting with this recipe - adding other dried fruit, cutting down on the sugar a bit, etc. I think next time I am going to add some ground Chipotle.

Kaikoura Beach, November 2009

Sunrise, Pacific Ocean, Kaikoura, New Zealand 2009

It is hard to believe that two years ago P and I were in New Zealand taking our much delayed honeymoon.  We stood on this black rock beach at Kaikoura and watched the sun rise over the Pacific Ocean.  If I were to emigrate to any where in the world, it would be New Zealand without a doubt.

There are places that speak to us, softly, and pull us in. And never really let us go.

11.11.11 Poppies

Zeby and I both wore poppies at work today, the pattern can be found here. Thanks to Laura Chau for making the pattern available.  Excuse the bad phone pictures - the red is really off here. The sweater I am wearing is actually a rusty brown color, just as a means for comparison.

I used sock yarn leftovers held doubled instead of aran weight.  The red is Creatively Dyed Yarn Steele from my sister's Christmas socks from a few years back. The other is Madtosh Sock in Fig, which is actually a brown, but still looks fantastic against the near-florescent red of the petals. Each flower took about 30 minutes to make.

Because Laura made the pattern free with the hopes that knitters would make a donation, I made a donation to the American Legion in memory of my great-uncle Gus who was killed in action in WWII.  He died a year before my mother was born, if my research is correct.  I know next to nothing about him, only that he died and was buried in Europe and was the last male heir of the line. My grandmother, his sister, died when my mother was a young woman, and with my grandmother went the memories of Gus that would have been passed down through the family.

I know Gus isn't forgotten, though.  He has one remaining sister and I am sure she is thinking about him today.  And so am I, an unknown, never dreamed of grand-niece.

Last stash acquisitions

A few weekends ago I indulged in my last fiber festival of the year - the Ann Arbor Fiber Expo. It always lands the weekend after Rhinebeck.  This means three things.

1. I am a bit strapped for cash

2. I am completely unwilling to wait in lines.

3. I am yarn-jaded.

The advantage to waiting one week - I had scheduled to teach classes all that week!  I put my hard-earned bills in the back of my wallet where I normally don't keep anything, and just kept adding to what my mom would call "mad money" until there were actual bills to count and sort.  

One of the many wonderful thing about AAFE is that there are no lines. At least, not at the booths I was shopping.  I went down on Sunday morning (worked at my LYS on Saturday) and headed straight for the booth I had to tear myself away from last year.  (I was on a strict no-sock-yarn diet.)  Happy Fuzzy Yarn has really beautifully dyed yarn, and, lo! I was no longer jaded.

Happy Fuzzy Yarns 100% BFL in Shadow, 5 mini skeins (~50yds a piece)

 I love this color blue - it is the color of a very cold Atlantic ocean in January when you are freezing your face off on the beach. In some lights it is nearly black, in others blue and green and grey. Perfect!

Happy Fuzzy Yarns 100% BFL in Rust, 1 mini skein (60 yards)

And a skein of Rust - one of my favorite colors ever. I remember having a pair of rust-colored corduroy jeans when I was a girl (in the late 70s to early 80s you could find such colors for little kids) and they were my favorite!  I was thought to be a little weird at school when I was asked what my favorite color was. "Rust!" I replied. And then when I saw kids' faces.  "...and blue!" Ah, yes. Much more normal.

Fingering, 75% wool, 25% nylon, colorway Tiger's Eye

Tiger's Eye is a beautiful skein that spans blacks, opalescent browny-purples, heathery-tans, golden-browns and yellowy-creams. I have no idea how it will knit up, but I am intrigued!

Finishing up at AAFE, I got to meet Humphrey the camel, but by the time I got to the back of the last barn I was out of money. And I merely enjoyed watching kids feed him bits of hay while their mothers looked at Humphrey's fiber.

The last stash-addition to my year. Lovely!

June House

My childhood home in Connecticut.

Bronze elephant bookend

Mini quilt by Mom

Dad's ship building hobby from the 70s

Stamford Connecticut, December 2010.

Greta Van Dyke

When I was a little girl my favorite toy - my comfort toy - was a stuffed animal named Blue Cat.  I didn't realize that there was actually a Blue Cat I and Blue Cat II until I was in my teens when my parents told me that BCI had to be tossed after a childhood hospitalization.  Very Velveteen Rabbit-esque. 

Blue Cat II is still with me - she lives on my bureau. And sure, now she is grey, she has no face, and all her fuzz has been loved off, but I still have a thing for that stuffed cat. She still smells like my childhood and brings back memories of eyelet cotton sheets and a blue gingham coverlet.

Dulce-cat is not impressed with you.

As it happens, one of my nephews is totally obsessed with cats. He won't be able to have one because of family allergies, but he has met my cat, Dulce.  And I am told that he talks about her frequently.  Since Dulce is a tortie I thought it would be nice to knit Lucas a tortie cat of his own.

The only thing is, I don't know if I can give Greta I to my nephew. I have kinda fallen in love with her. Would a four-year old treasure her forever and ever? (Possibly.) Would she be loved as much as I love her? (Doubtfully.)  So, I think there will have to be a Greta II that can go live down in Virginia. Greta I is going to hang out with Blue Cat II.

Pattern: Greta the Captivating Cat, a Dangercrafts Pattern
Yarn: Madelinetosh DK, Van Dyke Brown, 1/2 skein. Purchased at Woven Art
Needles: US 4
Mods: Vintage buttons for eyes from my extremely large button collection, and a dusty peach embroidered nose (too subtle for my camera to really capture).

Yup, Blue Cat and Greta are going to be fast friends.

Adirondack bound

See you in 10 days or so!

Antsy

Last summer P and I dusted off our passports and went to Belgium.  This summer there will be no lovely European adventure, but we are about to dust off our passports again.  And just in time - I am getting restless.

Bruges 

We leave for the Adirondacks next week, and due to the curious position of Michigan and the Great Lakes in relation to our destination, it is a shorter trip to drive through Canada.  Who knows how long the border crossing will take? - sometimes it has been 10 minutes, other times, about 1 1/2 hours.  Instead of crossing the flatlands of Ohio, we will be crossing the flatlands of Ontario. With bikes, a spinning wheel, and a Pembroke Welsh Corgi we will certainly be making an entrance. (Don't worry, Zeby's paperwork is all in order.)

Not wild and exotic stuff, but at least it has a different currency - I have been patiently culling Canadian money out of my regular US change for the last year. I may be able to buy a Canadian chocolate bar in pennies.

Summer Startitis

It seems that my favorite thing to do this summer is to cast on for new projects.  It is all I can do to keep focused on the five projects I have going.  Right now my favorite project is more than halfway done.  It doesn't travel well - beads and tools aren't easy to set up in the car - but it IS gorgeous.

This project comes out of stash - in fact, out of my tremendous sock yarn stash.  I am trying to diligently knit down some serious yardage there.  I am Cold Sheeping again until Rhinebeck, and participating in the Sock Stash Knitdown (SSK) challenge to try to use 12 skeins of sock yarn for the year. So far I have used 5. Yeesh, behind already!

The Jeweled Cowl by Sachiko Uemura is a free pattern on Ravelry, but the designer has asked for people to donate for Japan relief in lieu of payment.  So I will be making a donation to UNICEF. Maybe it was all the trick-or-treating I did in the late 70s to early 80s, but I miss those little cardboard boxes full of pennies.  So UNICEF gets my money this time.

Golden Queen

Trollius chinensis, (Globeflower) Golden Queen

My favorite color of yellow - saffron.  This color often represents sacrifice and salvation.  When I lived on the Upper East Side my bedroom curtains were this lovely color.  A few times a year the sun would rise and the light would reflect off the Bank across the alley from my bedroom.  My entire bedroom would fill with defuse golden light.  I would wake up early on Sundays, get an H&H bagel and take it to Carl Schurz Park. There I would watch people walk their dogs, and see tug boats work their way up the East River.

Those days that I woke up to golden light were some of my happiest moments of my life in Manhattan.  My heart would fill with peace, and I could rise above every little thing that came my way.  Even when a long-term relationship was dying, my golden light would buoy me, sustain me, convince me that I could be happy again.

I no longer have saffron curtains. But whenever I see this color it reminds me. I take a deep healing breath. I lower my shoulders and imagine tug boats persistently working their way against the current.

The Long Wait

Spring in Michigan is not for the faint of heart.  Warming spells are inevitably followed by days of raw damp weather and snow.  I have been able to wear my dansko sandals here and there, but they are always accompanied by jeans and a sweater. (This reminds me of my childhood in Connecticut - every Easter dress I ever wore was accompanied by a white turtleneck.)

Knitting has been in spurts and starts - days of crazy knitting jags, followed by days of listlessness and ennui.  Knitting can be a harsh mistress, and at this time of year any little hiccup in forward progress seems to pull me off the rails completely.

As a little exercise in optimism I decided to knit Bunny by Jess Hutch.  Little pieces, following directions closely, paying attention to row-by-row instructions.  Not exactly my normal knitting modus operandi.  I have named him Warren.

Warren is an organic bunny.

Pattern: Bunny by Jess Hutch, a free pattern.

Yarn: Blue Sky Alpacas Organic worsted cotton, 1/2 skein.

Needles: US 8

Mods: None that I can really think of.  If I were to knit him again I think I would try to make the head and body as a single piece just to cut down on the sewing.  I made up the carrot as I knit it, but I figured he needed something to nom on. His eyes are 10mm safety eyes available at most craft shops.

Warren is living at Woven Art right now surrounded by Bunny Nuggets and the Heartstrings origami Bunny.

And now there are Hyacinths up and blooming, and the first of my daffs are starting to flower.  There may be hope.  But I am still wearing wool socks for now.

Some thoughts on Project 333

I have now been part of Project 333 for almost a full month, and I am really enjoying the simplicity of it.  And I am functioning using LESS than 33 items.  But perhaps that isn't suprising...

I never had tons of clothes, although my parents may argue otherwise.  In college, some of my friends had closets stuffed full.  And I do mean FULL.

Until 10th grade I was a public school kid - rode the bus everyday (it happened to be the short bus in elementary school, which actually says more about the topography of where I grew up, rather than my mental abilities), and was relentlessly bullied by several kids in my grade.  With glasses, braces, a terrible Princess Diana haircut, and the onset of puberty, it was probably inevitable.  By the time I started to 'grow up' in ninth grade, I was also starting to reject the images these kids projected. Benetton, Guess, and Espirit were to be reviled.  I started wearing black. My sister and I would shop at Thrift Stores.  We wore polyester, lace, men's suit trousers and blazers.  We often bought Rit Dye to change the color of our second hand clothes.  My image was being formed in polar opposite of the people who picked on me, as if to say, 'Yes, I am different, and now you can see just how different I am.'  Most importantly, I ceased caring what they thought and went my own way.

And then 10th grade came around and I ended up in private school.  As private schools go, it wasn't bad.  There were wealthy kids there, but also a lot of my classmates were getting financial aid, and many of my classmates were first generation Americans.  But the kicker, the real kicker, was there was a uniform. Not just any uniform, but a plaid skirt (Campbell) and a white turtleneck.  (To this day I can't wear turtlenecks.) And suddenly the clothes I did have in my tiny closet were irrelevant, because I could not wear them to school.  I had two Campbell plaid skirts, a grey skirt (boy the grey skirt got a ton of wear!) navy pants, a navy crewneck sweater, two white turtlenecks, and a white button-down shirt. Shoes were usually Chinese slippers, since they were black, reasonably fashionable, and not penny loafers.

And so I could spend five days a week in clothes I had little to no control over, and really only had to make sure they were clean... ish.  For three years my wardrobe consisted of the same trousers, skirts and boring sweater - and because I was done growing, they may have been the exact SAME trousers, skirts, and sweater.

So, honestly, 33 items? Kinda feels like luxury when thinking about those private school days. And I have not, nor while I ever own a pair of navy trousers ever again.

In the end my high school alma mater got the last laugh.   When I went to college and joined the Lacrosse team the skirt uniform was Campbell plaid. No kidding.

Childhood Memories

Black-eyed Susans always remind me of my paternal grandfather who died when I was very young, his yellow house, and my dad showing me how to burn holes in paper with a magnifying glass.