Sucked in by Mel's Meme

My email buddy Mel, aka Cabezalana, is a veterinarian and fiber freak (no order). As I was reading his blog, I came upon a Wikipedia meme he's propagating that I found fascinating. It appealed to my ego (stroke, stroke) because it is about historical events that occurred on one's birthday. What you do is go to Wikipedia, look up your birthday (day and month only), then post the following items:

-- Three interesting historical events that happened on your birthday.

-- Three people who were born on your birthday.

-- Three people who died on your birthday.

It was hard to narrow it down to three for each for me, but these are the events, births, and deaths that occurred on June 15th.

Events

1. In 1215, King John of England affixed his seal on the Magna Carta.

2. In 1752, Benjamin Franklin proved that lightning is electricity.

3. In 1846, the Oregon Treaty establishes the 49th parallel as the border between the US and Canada from the Rocky Mountains to the Straits of Juan de Fuca.

Births

1. 1330 -- Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales.

2. 1843 -- Edvard Grieg, Norwegian composer

3. 1917 -- Lash LaRue, American actor

4. 1932 -- Mario Cuomo, Governor of New York

5. 1937 -- Waylon Jennings, American singer (and more)

Deaths

1. 1381 -- Wat Tyler, English rebel

2. 1849 -- James Knox Polk, US President

3. 1968 -- Sam Crawford, baseball player

4. 1996 -- Ella Fitzgerald, American singer

Knitting Content

I added more rows to the Traveling Vine Scarf today and made it to the shop to pick up yarn for the RSM. Boy it's hard to find the right yarn that just says, "Yep, I'm meant to be the RSM." Will it do what I want it to do? Will another yarn work for making a piece for the RSM using a classic pattern only with much tinier yarn than the original calls for? Will I drive Alicia and Norma insane? HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!!!!!! Two more months, my pretties!!!!

Easter

If I was with one of my family members, I probably be sitting down to a ham dinner after noshing on hard boiled eggs that came from the chickens of Grateful Dead fans. In my youth, I was awakened at an ungodly hour to go dress up in our good clothes to go stand in the rain while someone droned on about something I didn't understand. It probably would have done me some good to go to Sunday school, but since we didn't belong to a church that wasn't an option, so I was oblivious to the meaning of Easter until later when I was given the option of not having to go. Let's see.....sleep in or go stand in the rain in a dress and itchy tights......duh! Later I'd get up and help Mom with preparing dinner so that I didn't have to do the dishes, eat chocolate eggs until I was ill, and go upstairs later to read. That was Easter.

Today was a typical Easter weatherwise: rain alternating with sunshine. I looked out the window and imagined hundreds of Christians standing on soggy grass or in cold churches celebrating the rising of Christ. Then I turned on my secular radio, got my tea, and sat down to my email. Just another Sunday morning.

This was after a Saturday evening of disappointments. It was the third Saturday of the month, so I was expecting Stitch n Bitch at Unraveled Yarns. I chose my projects to work on: the RSM and a lace scarf project. The RSM needed some sock yarn (I didn't want to use a tiny part of an Opal skein and the smaller skeins weren't what I wanted), so I planned to purchase some while I was at Unraveled. I had purposely not gone over there in the morning like I usually do because of the gas (and I had music filing to catch up on). So when I got there at 7 pm and saw the shop was closed, I was rather disappointed. So I headed for another shop that had a cafe attached. They were closed. I went to another. They were open but didn't have the yarn I wanted and were going to be closing in half an hour. I was told of another shop and found it was closed to. So after all that running around, I returned home to sit in front of the idiot box, annoyed as anything.

But today was a new day. It was Sunday--choir rehearsal day--so I had the morning to do things and the afternoon to prepare for time spent with my musical friends. Reid came by and we headed on south. On the way, he told me of how he had spent Saturday evening with friends having Passover Seder and that a group called "What I Like About Jew" was performing this evening. His friend wouldn't be able to go. Reid told me more about this duo and their irreverent take on Jewish culture, so I said, "Let's go!" What better way to celebrate Easter than to go see a Jewish satire group. And sure enough it was a lot of fun. There was this fellow in front of us on the far side of seventy just having a ball despite the language (ribald enough to curl a mother's hair, I tell ya). Fish out of water? Sure. But who cares? It's like the straights at a gay comedian's act. They look just like us, isn't it amazing?

Happy Easter!

Still here

You're probably wondering where I've been and have been peeking here. I know you have. You want to know the Mystery. Can't tell you yet. It's April. Two months to go. My birthday's June 15th and that's when I'll reveal the Rubbah Slippah Mystery.

In the meantime, I've been dealing with fatigue. I don't think it's depression because my mood's been really good. It's more along the lines of my hormones being out of whack. But I won't bore you with those things. I'm plugging away.

Half of the Rubbah Slippah Mystery was finished this week. I took it to Knit Purl after seeing the dentist yesterday, unveiling it only after indulging in a hank of Lorna's Laces Helen's Lace in a lovely dark olive green. I wanted to see if the rumors of the customer service there were true. The initial greeting was "If you have any questions, be sure to ask." The atmosphere is reminiscent of a boutique, not a place where you could just sit and knit and talk. The staff warmed up when I showed the Rubbah Slippah Mystery. It was kind of like my showing the secret sign to an exclusive society. They wanted me to come back when I had finished the RSM, but it would have to be while I was down there for another dentist appointment because they're located in downtown Portland where you have to pay for parking if you can find it. There have been a number of yarn stores opening in Portland in the last couple of years and only one has garnered my interest in being a regular customer (besides Unraveled and Yarn Garden).

So I'm working on the other half of the RSM, digging through my stash for the right kind of yarn for it. Fortunately I have plenty of specialty yarn to choose from; otherwise I would have had to go buy more (horrors!!). This weekend will be spent working on RSM between bouts with the choir library whose filing has fallen WAY behind (blush).

I've been watching the immigration politics going on these last couple of weeks with some interest. My father was an immigrant, coming to this country when he was 9 years old with his mother. I don't know who sponsored them; I do know they would have come legally, but at the time they emigrated the laws were not as stringent as they are now (he arrived in the early '20's). But I can imagine that if he had come from down south instead of from up north, he would have been very frustrated. He grew up poor, worked very hard to feed his mother and stepfather during the Depression, and worked just as hard to feed his family. He understood what it meant to be so poor that you had to really struggle to live. He believed in the American Dream and achieved it for his family.

My experience has been seeing families who want that same dream for their children coming here because the land of their birth has nothing for them. They have chosen to break the law because they feel they cannot wait for the bureaucracy to let them in. They are willing to take jobs that our own children refuse to do. Ask your son or daughter to go spend 40 or more hours a week picking strawberries. Kids my age did that to get extra money for buying the things they wanted until the labor laws were changed. They work in slaughterhouses, farms, hotels, nurseries, and restaurants so that they can feed their families.

Yet there is also the fundamental question of where do you draw the line in condoning breaking the law. There are many who are trying to follow the law in coming in the country legally. They want the same things. They also work very hard. What do we say to those people when we allow the undocumented amnesty because our economy would suffer if we shut the door?

I hope a solution is found because if too harsh or too gentle a measure is taken, the consequences can be detrimental to our economy and society.

Mystery

I know....

something....

you don't know.....

Spring fever

The sun comes out after days of grey gloom. The warmth is comforting, inviting pulling out a comfy chair and a good book or one's knitting. I like this part of spring.

Unfortunately, it also heralds lawnmowing time.

If I had to choose working in the yard and doing the dishes, I'd work in the yard. But it doesn't mean it's up there in my favorite things to do list. Since I was the only child remaining at home after I turned 9, eventually it became my job to mow the lawn and help my parents with yard work. The house I grew up in was set in one corner of a double lot, so we had a fair amount of yard. My mom loved gardening and had grown up with a mother who also loved gardening (her yard was once chosen to be cover of Waverly Gardens for her azaleas). But the gardening gene didn't sprout in me. So while I was digging holes for annuals, trimming bed edges, raking leaves, and deadheading camellias, rhododendrons, and azaleas, I was thinking that when I got a house it was going to have a small that was easy to care for.

So now I have that house and the back yard has become a jungle that the cats love to hunt in. I keep an eye out for vermin, but so far I haven't had any problems with rats or mice. When my next door neighbors had kiwi trees, the possums and raccoons would come by to munch on the fruit; fortunately those neighbors moved and the new ones took out those trees. The front and side yards are relatively well maintained, since they're visible, but they aren't the pristine yards my relatives have.

And there's the lawn.

Every spring it's a challenge. Will the mower start? I got the mower when I was living in a shoebox sized rental house on a double lot full of freeway weeds. It's now approaching 20 years of age and holding up well (bless you Briggs & Stratton) despite my neglect. But it won't do the lawn by itself. And like me, it's reticent about doing the job. The first spring startup is always the hardest, like pushing a bear out of hibernation. Kaschoong chg chg ch ch ch. Kaschoong chg chg ch ch ch. Adjust the throttle. Kaschooong chg chg ch ch ch. Adjust again. Kaschoong ch ch. Nope, too much. Adjust again. Squirt another priming shot of gas. Kaschooong chg chg chg ch ch ch. Kaschoooong chg chg chg chg ch ch. Straighten, groan as the back protests. Look at the lawn. Yeah, it's getting long. It's dry too; not as heavy to carry to the compost heap. Kaschoong chg chg chg. Kaschoong chg chg chg ch ch ch. And so on until either the mower starts or I quit. Usually I quit.

Lawns were invented to give the impression that you were a gentleman landowner, not a farmer who had to use every foot of land to raise crops. A lawn is a sign of prosperity, of comfort.

I can't wait for summer when the damn thing goes into hibernation.

On the needles

While I'm watching my grass grow, I'm busy putting together the pattern for the Olympic sweater. Cross your fingers, kiddies; mama's hoping it will be purchased and published in a book. This is taking me away from the Rubbah Slippah Mystery project, but that's okay. I'm getting inspiration from other areas for it and corrupting the innocent with it. I'll have it done by the time I'm supposed to go deliver it to its intended recipient.

Listen To This....

If you haven't discovered podcasts yet, you should. If there is ever a time when you just can't knit (and yes there are those times) and you MUST have your knitting fix, a knitting podcast can do the trick. There are several out there and more starting up. The two I download are in the sidebar listed under Ear Candy. Go to the sites, click on the episode link, then save it to your hard drive. Be warned; Brenda's podcasts are usually over half an hour long making for a long download. So if you have dial-up, don't have anything else running on your computer, make a pot of tea, and settle down with your knitting for a couple of hours as the megabytes slooooooooowly wend their way from Wales to your home.

Today was one of those days when I was so glad to have a podcast or two already downloaded. I had a nasty cold a couple of weeks ago that required antibiotics. Foolish me didn't start up my yogurt to replenish my gut flora right away so I've had to cope with the consequences these last few days. I was doing all right for a while today at work, but the strain of it caught up with me this afternoon and I had to go home. So after making a quick stop at the store for necessary supplies, I went home and to bed. I was tired but not sleepy. Too tired to read or knit but not tired enough to conk out. So I dug out my iPod and my headphones and listened to the latest Cast-On, this week hosted by Franklin Habit.

Now, I will try to keep my gushing admiration for Franklin restrained, but it's really hard to. The guy is erudite and eloquent and really really nice. A part of me wants to find the abusive ex that made his life hell because no one should have to put up with that. I learned about him through QueerJoe (who admits he's green with envy with Franklin's success) and saw his name on other blog lists and thought "Who is this Franklin guy?" Then I read his blog. I started with entry one and worked my way through the months to get a good idea of who he is. Do you do that? I feel like when I start reading a blog I'm starting a book in the middle, so I go back as far as I can to start. It's only then that I feel I have a right to comment on something without feeling like a dork. When I got up to his current entry, I was very impressed. I can see why people read his blog regularly. He's a writer, not just a blogger. And a very good one.

Franklin had done some wonderful essays on Cast-On, so I was interested to hear what his guest hosting on this week's installment was like. Today I had my opportunity and it was very pleasant. There are calls for him to do his own podcast, but I can imagine that he has a full enough schedule and podcasting on a regular basis would be tough. But I can see him guest hosting more than once.

Franklin, if you're reading this, you can be assured of this from me. I would never say to you "Are you learning to knit?" while you're working on a jacquard on a commuter train. I would kneel at your feet, not worthy of being in your godlike presence, and fetch you anything you desire: cowboys, wool, needles......

A Busy Week

This morning's walk was a joy. One block was full of birds all in song. A woodpecker was busy in one of the big trees. The air was brisk and fresh. My knees were protesting in the beginning but once I got going they settled down. On the way back, I passed a venerable old tree with one branch creaking in the low wind. I took a moment to listen to this tree speak before making my way back home to breakfast and tea.

Norma's Not-So-Sekrit Sox are done! They are warm and snug and will keep her tootsies nice and comfy on chilly mornings. They're knitted out of Rauma Babygarn doubled, one skein each of turquoise, bright pink, lime green, and white.

The Mystery project is slowly coming along. Part of it involved doing some lace samples. I worked some on some fingering weight merino first to get a feel for the pattern, then pulled out some crochet cotton and am working on the final product here. The coin is a US nickel. I'm working the cotton on #1's. I've found that I can't talk and knit this at the same time. It's a work I have to do alone with little distraction.

As I was struggling turning the heel on the second Norma Sekrit Sox and working the lace, I decided to take a break from it and work on a project I had set aside prior to the Knitting Olympics in February. The Tasha Tudor shawl is being done in Sirdar Denim Tweed DK and I had finished the top edging when I ran short of yarn. Finding more of it was out of the question, so I substituted for the last two edges Sirdar Denim Chunky in blue. So far it's coming out fine and when it is done will be a nice wrap to have on hand at the office.

You'll find changes on the side bar. I've pulled out my favorite podcasts from the listing of favorite blogs. There are a few familiar faces; take a look at the unfamiliar.

Comment replies

Exercise

I want to thank everyone who has offered suggestions on how I could enhance my exercise regime. I want to add that I have sensitive skin (I've been prone to eczema and contact dermatitis since birth) and have found that prolonged participation in water exercise such as swimming or aquatic aerobics really tears up my skin. Prior to my surgery I did participate in a water aerobics program and really enjoyed it, but since the surgery I've found that my knees can't handle it. The side to side motion of some of the exercises cause my knees to go slightly out of joint then back into joint, aggravating the arthritis already there.

I'm starting out with walking as it's the exercise I can do. When I get in better shape, I'll visit Curves and see if circuit exercise will help. I took a course a few years ago and noted a great improvement, but the place where I went to work out was always busy and the equipment I could use always had a line

Trip to Hawaii

Anonymous asked me where I would spend the days I'm in Hawaii. I know I'll go visit Hawaii Volcanoes National Park. I'll be bringing my Canon AE-1 camera, an old workhorse of a camera that takes fabulous pictures, to use while I'm sightseeing. I'll want to visit the coffee plantations by Kona and see the surf and beaches. I also want to spend time with Alicia and Norma learning how to spin with a handspindle as well as with a wheel.

Who let all these sheep in the house?

Linda at the office got a big kick out of my knitting. I found a little sheep and a Beanie Baby sheep at Finnegan's Toys while I was shopping for her birthday. A few weeks later, I was gifted with five more sheep and a big sheep for my birthday. Over time I've acquired quite a few, who have dressed up in Halloween costumes, gotten festive for Christmas, and can't wait for my birthday.

If they smoke and drink, they'd be partying with Dolores. Occasionally I find confetti on my desk, so I know these guys like to party.

Spring vapors

It must be due to the changing of the season. It could be due to the sunshine that has graced us for the past few days, including this morning. Whatever it was it motivated me to try to break a bad habit.

I'm a large woman, as you have seen in past posts. I've never been really active on a regular basis. Give me the choice and I'd rather curl up in a chair with a good book. But this lackadaisical attitude is working against me. I'm 90 pounds overweight. Not a good thing at all. Not that it's easy for me to lose it. I've been heavy all my life. But age is against me and if I don't start changing some of my habits I'm going to pay for it big time down the road.

The majority of city dwellers rely on some sort of transportation to get to work simply because they live too far from their employment. This has been true for the last half-century or so. If I belonged to the majority, it would make sense for me to drive to work every day. But I don't need to. I live 6 blocks from work.

The habit started when my knees got so bad from ill-placed kneecaps that I had to drive. I also developed plantar fasciitis. After knee surgery and orthotics, the reason for walking to work went away. Then I got my dream car.

Ever since I got my Beetle, I've driven to work. I just love it so much! I stroke it when I go by it. I'm smitten, I tell you!

My dream car is killing me.

This morning, I woke up and realized that if I didn't break the habit of driving to work, I would ruin my health and my car. There is no reason for me not to walk. So this morning I walked to work. It was a beautiful morning full of song and the rush of morning traffic. By the time I got to work, my butt was saying to me, "What the hell are you doing?"

I walked home and got the same reaction. Instead of plopping into a chair, I stretched my muscles to make them shut up. They've been inactive too long.

I have further motivation. If I'm to walk about Hawaii in three months, I need to get in better shape. Walking around New York City was a wake up call. I thought I could make those blocks without any trouble but my body told me otherwise. I'm not going to be an old lady yet. I have years yet to go if I work it right.

She knit an itsy bitsy teeny weeny.....

.....piece of lace. As part of the Mystery project, I thought I'd try some fine gauge knitting. I found some needles size .5 mm that caught my eye if nothing for their lovely beads. They're German steel with nice points. Knitting with them was interesting. I thought that the beads would be too heavy but they proved to be a good counterweight that kept my stitches from being too tight.

The yarn was a no-label laceweight merino (2/16 is written on the label for you number junkies--some day I'll know what that means. Probably sooner than later, knowing my friends) that I picked up from KnitPicks' company store in Vancouver WA. The sample is an easy eyelet that could be a scarf pattern. Use a needle size 3 or 4 sizes larger than what is called for on the yarn label (i.e. a size 7 weight yarn use a size 10 needle).

Cast on with a loose cast off an even number of stitches + 10.

Knit first 4 rows.

Pattern:

Row 1 - K5, *YO, k2tog* to last 5 stitches, K5

Row 2 - Purl

Row 3 - K6, *YO, k2tog* to last 6 stitches, K6

Row4 - Purl

Repeat Rows 1 through 4 until desired length. End by knitting Rows 1 and 2, then knit 4 rows, then cast off with a loose cast off. Block so that the eyelets are round and even.

"And the funny thing is....."

".....I'm not Irish!"

Interview with the winner of the Wearin' of the Most Green Contest. A lovely lass she is. They say she knits a little on the side and has a lilting voice that could win over the devil. The winner received a pot of gold and a sheep.

Tuesday Tidbits

What the.... As I was driving home today, I noticed stapled to telephone poles flyers with phone number fringe. They were advertisements for petitioner jobs. For what issue? Saving the environment! Now call me crazy but isn't the person posting paper that will end up flying around as litter on the street kind of mixing the message here?

Project progress. One of the mystery project foundation pieces is nearly done. I just have to utilize my talent in squeezing every millimeter of Koigu out of the skein before I run out. It's raised a few eyebrows as I've been working on it at the office. And no it's not obscene. I am proud at how well the shaping has come out, considering I'm doing this with no pattern.

I went to my doctor yesterday about getting some drugs for the crud I'm dealing with. I remarked at how people could take a pulse easily when I have a heck of a time doing it. Later, I showed him the Heart Wave sock. He was impressed and asked me, "How do you do it?" "How do you take a pulse?" I answered. He laughed.

Whispers.... I got a tip about another position at the office. Something more computer related and challenging without the daily dullness of same ole same ole. The pay scale minimum starts $9 per hour more than what I make now. What the hell. You don't move unless you seize opportunities. I may even get the job. If I do, I'll get my boss drunk so that he can get through the transition of training someone to take my place.

Visions of hula girls

If you let the spirit of the world carry you, things can happen that you least expect. You toss your wishes out to the spirit and have the faith that some day they will come true. It doesn't mean you just sit back and let the world revolve around you. There is interaction required, usually in the form of generosity and respect toward others. It happened with my Carnegie Hall trip. I stepped forward with the intention in my mind that it would be real.

A couple of weeks ago, I was feeling kind of lost. I had no real goal now that my trip was over. So I thought, what would happen if I decided I would go abroad? What if I made plans to go to Wales for example to visit Brenda and Tonia? It was a fun exercise and what seemed to be a daunting goal appeared more workable. And someday I'll go.

The spirit of the world decided I needed to go someplace else first.

In the back of my mind as I was knitting up the Heart Wave sock, I thought, wouldn't it be a hoot to hand deliver these to Norma? Then I thought, what if I made a very special gift for Alicia and deliver that too? And all the fiber I want to take with me? After all, it's just a hop across the ocean, right?

So I looked at flights. Hmm. Not as spendy as flying to Wales, but not cheap. But wait. I just finished my taxes and I have refunds coming my way, enough to pay for the flight. I passed on the suggestion to Alicia for fun and before we knew it we were planning our time together. All I needed to do was make new vacation arrangements at work and we'd be set. That turned out to be no problem.

So on Father's Day, I will be flying to Hilo to spend 5 nights in paradise. SQUEAL!!

I better bring my spindle.

Gawdess of the Rubbah Slippahs

When the Olympics were over, the one thing that struck me was I wanted to do something else besides the sweater. I wasn't happy with the zipper, so I ripped it out. I put in a button band but it's not put in right (it ripples, meaning I picked up too many stitches). The pockets aren't in. So in a way, I'm not done, which means I'm not an Olympian. Well I am an Olympian; it was technically complete when the torch went out. I was thrilled that I finished a sweater in 16 days. But the satisfaction was tempered by my dissatisfaction with how it came out. It happens all too often. I get in a hurry and don't pay attention. I want to get the damn thing done and over with!

Well, the sweater is wearable and I'm getting lots of oohs and ahhs from people who see it, so there is that satisfaction. With the chill weather we've been having lately, it's been handy to have on hand. But I'm not going to touch it for a while. It's going to sit with its ripply buttonband and lack of pockets for now. I must move on.

The first post-Olympic project was a pair of fingerless gauntlets done up in the Paint Box. The recipient, Linda, is a viola player with very willowy hands with long fingers. She and I share the same warped sense of humor and love to elaborately decorate my boss's cubicle (one year it was an Italian bistro; last year it was a tiki hut, which he didn't take down for two months). I gave her the gauntlets and she was thrilled to pieces. "I was able to play my solo!" she gushed to me today after a concert. "My hands could move!" From one fellow musician to another. I understand. Cold hands suck!

The projects that I'm currently working on are works of love. A few years ago, I joined the GLBT Knit list and gained the acquaintance of Alicia. Our email relationship developed into a fun friendship where she is the Gawdess of the Rubbah Slippah and I'm the SockMistress Duffilina, Denizen of the Dark Side. She just does not like to make socks! At the time, she and her partner Norma were living in a house in the mountains outside San Diego. Then a couple of years ago, fire swept through and completely destroyed their house and everything in it except what they could throw into their pickup in 15 minutes. They lost all their fiber (Norma is a weaver and spinner; Alicia a spinner and knitter), their equipment, everything. When I heard the news, I tried to imagine that happening to me. I stood in my house full of stuff and tried to imagine losing everything. It was horrible, emotionally wrenching. It's one thing to lose things like furniture, appliances, and clothes, but the things you have made with your hands hold a very special place in the spirit. They are an extension of yourself at the time of their creation and can never ever be replicated.

I wrote Alicia many letters of support, made a square with a sock on it for the afghan we made for her, and did what I could to try to ease the agony of loss. She sent me one of her hats made of yarn one of our fellow listers donated to her and many letters of love. When I spoke of my intention to go to Carnegie Hall, she secretly organized a fundraising within the group. She sent me skeins of handspun with the request to make Norma a pair of slipper socks. The yarn unfortunately was not appropriate for making the slipper socks. I would have to find a substitute.

Fortunately, there are many sockweight yarns out there. I wanted the slippers to reflect Alicia and Norma's transition from San Diego to Hawaii. I found a pattern in Anna Zilboorg's Fancy Feet called Heart Waves that really spoke to me what I wanted to convey. They are interlocking waves of water, love, spirit, and joy. I chose tropical colors and finished the first slipper sock last night.

But I wasn't going to just make a pair of slipper socks. I have another part of the project going on that is taking on a deeper meaning. I'm choosing yarns carefully and thinking about designs, symbols, and shapes. They will rise from the respect, love, and friendship I have with Alicia. When they're done, they will show their faces here.

Mindless Amusements

The Internet is loaded with information that could give you a college education if you put your mind to it. It also has mindless entertainment, such as:

What kind of pie are you?

You Are Mud Pie

You're the perfect combo of flavor and depth Those who like you give into their impulses

What Kind of Pie Are You?

So, what kind of pie are YOU?

On the Fiber Front

I'm still working on the Olympic Sweater's button bands and pockets. I accidently did a short row on the buttonhole side and had to tink it out of there before I could finish the edging. Once I'm done I can start playing with the Paint Box yarn while the rain falls down outside my window.

My Stash Made Me Do It

I could say I was a magpie in a previous life. How else would I be drawn to such beautiful colors? I don't know what the Noro Sakura will be but the Paint Box will be fingerless gloves for a friend and fellow musician.

My Stash made me buy it! If you think I'm crazy, listen to Franklin's essay on his Stash on Cast-On Episode 11.

Flights of Fiber Fancy

Despite the proliferation of a certain handheld tool that make its user think that the world is their living room therefore they can hold a phone conversation in full voice for all to hear, I have enjoyed the technological advances that have occurred in the last 10 years. When the personal computer first reared its head, I've been curious about it and excited when I finally was able to afford one. I knew I was destined to be a geek. I was already a geek so the acquisition of another facet of geekdom was a matter of course. I cannot claim to be a full-blown guru; my paltry skills at the keyboard pale in comparison to those who can decipher a computer's whimsies. At best I'm a translator for the less geeky, able to take the eldritch and incomprehensible instructions and translate them into conversational English. Or at least help a sweating and frightened user return their toolbar back to its expected location from the black hole it had been inadvertently sent into by an over-excited mouse click.

This geekdom has given me the confidence to surf the Web and build dreams without paying a penny beyond my usual ISP fee. Today it was a dream trip to visit Brenda Dayne, her partner Tonia, and the wilds of Wales. Brenda's the intrepid host of Cast-On: a podcast for knitters. She is also a fellow Portlander who confessed to me missing Oregon Chai. My dream trip would be to load up two suitcases: one for clothes and knitting, the other with Oregon Chai; and depart eastward for the wilds of Wales on a mission of mercy. So how would I get to Llanteg, Brenda's home and abode?

First off, I had to find out where the hell it was. My atlas has the entire British Isles on a page 14 by 18 inches in size, which pretty much eliminates any tiny villages from view. However, the Web was a great source of maps of the area and once I had located the village, I set about to find larger towns that could be possible rail stops.

My next stop after noting a few likely candidates was the website for British Rail. My most likely air connection was going to be London, so I looked at how long it would take for me to take the train from London to the towns I had chosen. I ended up choosing Whitland as my final train destination. The train from London to Whitland would take as little as 4 hours. Fine. Now while I was looking at the rail map, I noticed a ferry coming across the Irish Sea from Ireland. Hmm. A trip to Dublin, then the train and ferry to Wales? Pbbbt! was my reaction after I plugged them into British Rail's itinerary planner. It took me on a roundabout trip from Dublin, across the Irish Sea to northern Wales, then the train went through Shrewsbury south to Whitland. Other forays into other British cities (Birmingham, Manchester) also came up with disappointing results, though Birmingham's train ride would have been the same as London's.

On to the airlines. I figured that September would be ideal, so I went into several international airlines to see what they came up with. If I took KLM, I'd be flying to Amsterdam before coming into the UK. Aer Lingus required I fly to Los Angeles before flying east and then they only flew on certain days. Air Canada was the most promising costwise, but some of the flights had a 10 hour layover in Vancouver BC. I can drive there faster than that!

But if I do decide I want to do this, the cost of the flight would probably be around $750. The train ticket's $141 round trip. Then there's making the arrangements with Brenda and deciding what other excursions I'd like to make while over there. Hmm.

So what's your dream vacation?

Olympic Sweater Redux

I've taken out the zipper and put in one button band with these lovely pewter buttons with stylized horses on them. I know that a certain Witt wants to see the detail, but he's just gonna have to wait. I'm not done with the buttonhole side or the pockets, so there nyah.

Shades of Hitchcock

My desk is located next to a window that overlooks a small parklike space adjacent to a residential neighborhood. There are nice sized trees in the space and a lawn, and since my office is located on the north side of the building, the light is diffuse and pleasant. During cloudy dark days, the window doubles as a mirror. On sunny days, the greenery is bright and cheerful. People bring their dogs to run about and neighborhood cats proul the arborvitae that stand along the edge. A family of squirrels have the run of the trees and birds forage for insects, seeds, and worms.

The city is on one of the major bird migratory flyways, so transients are common. Today it seems word got out to the avian community because the place is ALIVE with birds. Mostly starlings, but there are chickadees, robins, house sparrows, and hummingbirds. The starlings burst like fireworks from their perches and the ground at the slightest disturbance. It's like there's a huge avian party going on and I'm the only one not invited. Oh, except a crow. He's standing at the side, watching and waiting, waiting and watching. I can imagine the conversation between a couple of the robins going on:

R1: Hey Mike.

R2: Bill! Hey, good to see ya! Glad you made it here!

R1: Yeah, man. The crossing over the river was killer. Wind blew me all over. Thought I'd buy it when that jet nearly sucked me in.

R2: Yeah. Damn airports. Why they need 'em just kills me. Gotta make a running start like a damn goony bird.

R1: Don't let one hear you say that, man.

R2: Trust me. I wouldn't.

R1: Look at those goofballs just spinnin' up there by the windows. You'd think they'd gotten wired on something like those hummers.

R2: Crystal in their crickets.

R1: What th'--S^(UT! Crow! Crow! Crow!

R2: He's got one of the flock!

R1: Can you tell who it is, Mike?

R2: I saw him on the way---yeah, it's that one guy who'd belch on earthworms. What was his name?

R1: Jim.

R2: Yeah. Jim. Dang. He was hilarious. I was hoping to hear him all the way through the redwoods.

R1: Dang crow.

R2: Man, listen to those starlings giving him hell. That'll teach ya, you bastard!

R1: Talk about a party crasher.

R2: Yeah. Hey Bill, I hear there's a park not far from here that's next to a school. Has some great leftover seed.

R1: Sounds good. Show me the way, Mikey.

It was just like that. One minute the birds were out there having a great time, then a crow came along, made a kill and essentially killed the party. All the birds were gone. All that was needed was a uniformed pigeon waving a baton and saying, "Move along, nothing to see here, move along, nothing to see here..."

On another surreal note from dreamland, I dreamed that Ronald McDonald was arrested for selling meth to kids. He had changed from the lovable cuddly clown to this cigar puffing, red-eyed maniac with mottled teeth and horrible skin. The cops were pulling him away as he screamed, "I didn't do it! I didn't do it!" The next thing I see is him in a cage smiling innocently as folks do a fundraiser to raise money for his bail. Very very weird. But I can see him doing meth. How else is he gonna work off those french fry thighs?

Broad thoughts on fashion

I'm not a fashion maven. I never was. My size was never in the fashion section of the department store. I was a Sears Chubbies girl (guys were Husky; how did they manage such a positive label?), destined to wear ribbed polyester pants and striped shirts in primary colors. I was able to convince my mother at last to let me wear jeans in the 8th grade after months of hearing "Highwater! Highwater!" from my taunting schoolmates. T-shirts and jeans were my clothing of choice in high school to the dismay of my mother who was particular about her appearance. The day I wore a dress to school she was overjoyed, but I made sure she knew that until they invented something to replace nylons I was not wearing dresses. Besides, the choices I had in the late '70's were pretty paltry. Anything close to my size was in the Grandma section. Lane Bryant came to town and their options were slim for a teenager wanting to fit in.

It was a gradual trip of discovery for me to find what worked for my body. I learned about lines, body types, color, and style. My mother taught me about opting for classic lines versus trendy when choosing clothes and making up my mind which neutrals I wanted as my building block in my wardrobe (they're black and pearl white). But each trip to the store to find exactly what I want has always been a chore. I would go to my sources to find a particular item (for example, a dressy black sleeveless shell to wear for the Carnegie Hall concert or a simple black dress) and come out empty handed.

So when I started knitting, one of the goals I had was to make items for myself that would look good and feel comfortable. I'm not afraid of taking a basic pattern and making it fit me. I'm an okay seamstress but not when it comes to tailored clothes. But I have a good idea of what would look good for my body type and want to make it real. The Olympic sweater is the first of these patterns. I want to do more. I know there are women out there who are like me sizewise who see what's out there and are disappointed. Your chance will come, honey. Fiberqat's got her pencil out!

How do you get to Carnegie Hall?

$939 and airfare.

That was what one of my fellow group singers quipped as we talked about our experience. If you can perform and can convince someone to book you, you can perform at Carnegie Hall. Hate to bust your bubble, but there it goes. It all comes down to money.

But I was glad I spent that dinero for the opportunity. During tech rehearsal, we got the chance to stand on stage and wiggle and fidget like a bunch of elementary school kids. You look out and think, "I'm in the same place where Tchaikovsky, Bernstein, Horowitz and Yo-Yo Ma have performed. Billie Holiday and Ella Fitzgerald sang here." And you're standing there with your friends and fellow singers in that same place! It does two things: makes you damn proud and makes you determined to do your best.

During rehearsal at the hotel, Tim warned us not to react to the weepy parts of the program. "Think of anything! Don't pay attention to the narrators! Don't listen to the words! You cry and you lose your voice. Think enchiladas!" Sure enough, there's a song the sopranos and altos do that is a daughter's cry to her mother who is now gone. Guaranteed to turn on the faucets. I sing tenor so I'm free of singing this, but I have to watch them sing it. I sit attentively on my stool and stare at the hairline of the guy next to me.

"Come to me, mother, again in my dreams"

Enchilada, enchilada, enchilada....

"You left an emptiness no one can fill."

Enchilada, enchilada, enchilada...

"Oh comfort and hold me once more while I weep."

I'm so glad I'm not having to look at the audience...enchilada, enchilada, enchilada

It worked like a charm.

The concert really capped a busy day. Earlier, I went downtown to Knit NY to knit on the Olympic sweater and meet up with a couple of my fellow knitters from the GLBT Knit List. Liz and Jeri arrived around 2 to chat and show projects and put faces to the names we see in our mailbox. Liza's showing Jeri a swatch while the Olympic sweater is having a rest. I had to break it to them that I couldn't stay longer than 3 as I had to get back to my hotel to change and be ready for the concert at 3:45, not 5 as I had thought earlier. While it was brief, it was a great gathering, one West Coaster meeting two East Coasters. I reached the neckline shaping of the sweater in the process; whee!!

The Olympic sweater is done!!

Like any creatrix I'm looking at my design and thinking about what I could have done to improve it. But it's done! It's done! Now I can go take a well-deserved nap and massage my arms.

Go Team Wales!

Knitlympics Last Day -- @$%^&^ Zippers!

Last night I got the sleeves done and headed straight for the front steek to put in the zipper. One half went in smoothly, but it took SIX tries to get the second one in with the teeth pointing in the right direction. It looks like hell. I was too tired and too pissed off to try again. What the hell was I THINKING??

The sleeves blocked beautifully. Today is assembly day, adding the pockets last. No problem!!

Knitlympics Day Eight - NYC Day Three

We're on the home stretch! Our goal was met and then some, setting us up for the final knitathon of the sleeves at the shop. We're fighting the aftereffects of an asthma attack. Getting out into the fresh air and a less dusty environment will help that immensely. In the meantime, we continue with our jaunt to NYC

The early retirement to bed did the trick. I was able to get a full night's sleep, which improved my mood immensely. Rehearsal was in the morning, a runthrough complete with narrators and soloists to polish us up even more. My voice was tired afterwards, but I had energy to pursue my newfound quest to find a leather coat.

When we arrived in New York City Thursday, the temperatures were in the balmy 40's and 50's F. This morning they were in the teens. Some streets were okay to walk in but others had the wind blowing great guns, threatening to freeze me into a Duffycicle that could barely squeak. I had brought along my DNA scarf just in case and it kept the wind from stealing my voice.

My goal was to reach Macy's and see if they had any leather coats. When I got there, I was impressed by the store's size, but more amazed that they still had wooden escalators on the upper floors. They were the ones that had the claws at the top and bottom to clear the grooves of the steps. Stepping over them was a challenge. My excursion came up fruitless, however. No leather coats. The girlie in me liked the vinyl bags but didn't pick one up then. Bad move.

When I went out on 34th street to brave the wind, I spotted a leather shop. Joy! I tromped over there and found myself in the most helpful hands of a gentleman who promptly started helping me try on leather blazers. I have broad shoulders, a broad belly, not much tit, and a broad back. It took a while to find the right coat to fit me properly. It was a beautiful experience being surrounded with all that leather...mmmmmmmm.....

I started on the sleeve shaping of the front of the Olympic sweater and knitted furiously through the evening. Tomorrow is the performance, so rest was important for the rest of the day. I didn't get to see Central Park, the Metropolitan Museum of Art, or any other attractions, but I have my leather coat. I am pleased.

Tremors of Panic

I calculated the number of rows I have to do versus what I have done on the sleeves. 58 rows done. 80 rows to go, not counting the section of adding length to the sleeve. Two more Olympic days. Ew. Good thing I stocked up on movies. Some observations while I sat in a panic at work.

The endeavor seemed doable. I'm at the panic point. I switched from Balenes to Addi Turbos to speed things up and my arms are starting to ache, especially purling. Back to the Balenes.

The endeavor would have been easier if I had staff. Instead I took up the challenge as a solo. Like a skier from Bermuda doing the alpine ski jump without a coach.

Cats are not staff.

I lost a couple of evenings to exhaustion as my body readjusted itself to Pacific Time from Eastern Time. I'd call that a hurdle. Tonight, tomorrow, and Sunday are what's left of my knitting time. Goal for the end of today: have at least half the second set of increases done (8 rows of the first section, 24 of the second section, adding up to 32 rows on both sleeves). Coffee, Duchess of Duke Street, movies I've seen. Keep the cats at bay. Save eating lunch for while one is doing work instead of during lunch break.

I'm feeling a cold coming on. It didn't help that the office had the carpets cleaned and the ensuing dust raised from people shifting objects off the floor and cleaning their desks went straight into my lungs. They feel icky.

Food is overrated.

Obviously I'm letting this get to me. It's only a sweater....it's only a sweater...

But a gold medal button from the Yarn Harlot would be so cooooool! What are you doing writing in your blog right now? You're working the muscles that you use to knit! Stop it!

It's ONLY a sweater!

Time for a break....

Knitlympics Day Seven - NYC Day Two

Before I put in this entry, I want to be clear that I am home now. I got a nice email from a reader wishing a good time in NYC. Thanks! I did have a good time but opted to not be connected with the Web because I'm such an addict about checking email, surfing, checking my email again, cleaning out my quarantine box, and checking my email. Last night I was so tired I went to bed after feeding the cats and slept 12 hours. I'm much better now and definitely more coherent, which trust me is a very good thing. So back to our heroine's story at hand....

The day did not start well. After eating, we all tramped up to our hotel rooms. I shared a room with three of my fellow choristers, one of whom had already arrived and settled in by the time we arrived. We didn't want to disturb her, so we quietly set our suitcases aside, changed in the shaded light of the closet, and went to bed. We were all too tired to realize our first mistake: no one knew where the thermostat was or had done anything to reduce the room's temperature.

I was told New York was going to be cold. "Dress for cold," I was warned. "It will be cold!" It may have been outside, but in our hotel room, you could strip down and have a sauna bath. There were lofty comforters on the bed so that you could stay nice and warm. My bedmate got my share quickly. Toss carefully. Turn carefully. Sigh. Stick one leg out from under the bed sheet. Find a cold spot. You'd think after being tired from a flight one would fall asleep right away. Nope. The last time I saw the clock it was 2 am.

The night was punctuated with snores from a roommate in the other queen bed. I had earplugs in for that contingency (with a dozen spares--one can't have too many earplugs when rooming with others), but I could hear her through the plugs. Ignore the snores. Focus on trying to sleep. Count your heartbeats; that's a way of doing it. I wafted in and out of steamy sleep, wishing that I could just go lie outside on the roof. When it was 6 am, I lay in the bed as the sound of rush hour traffic hummed and honked outside. By 6:30, I had had it. There was no way I was going to get to sleep. So I quietly dressed, gathered my purse and knitting for the morning jaunt, and went to hunt up a latte.

I found a Starbucks around the back of the hotel, got a paper and latte, and camped in a window seat where I could watch the commuters making their way to work. If there's a lovely way to start the day slowly, it's with a cup of hot beverage in hand and an advantageous location for people watching. But my poor sleep-deprived brain didn't register that as part of their garb they had umbrellas and rain-type gear. It was too good to sit and sip in the coolest part of the place, letting all that sweat evaporate while watching. I saw people in leather blazers and thought, "That would be cool to have. And where else but here to get it!" While I was perusing the paper, I saw that Bloomingdales was having a sale. There! There's my morning destination. I finished my latte, folded up my paper, and headed out for Bloomingdales.

When I caught the subway, there was no rain. When I went aboveground, it was raining steadily. I had brought an umbrella but it was nestled comfortably in my suitcase. *dope slap!* I was also early. Bloomingdales didn't open until 10 am, so I had time I had to kill. Since I didn't pick up a pastry at Starbucks, I went in search of a place to eat, which isn't hard in Manhattan.

A quick dive into a variety store yielded a cheap umbrella that at least kept me dry. At 61st and Lexington, I found a corner cafe with a very reasonable menu. I went in and sat at the counter, hungry, sweaty, and damp from the rain. Bobby the waiter served me water, hot tea and extra napkins. I ordered a spinach and feta omelet, something my still painful gums could handle. While I waited, I watched people in the mirror that stood against the wall behind the counter and listened to the conversations around me. Locals visited here--a good sign. I talked with Bobby a little and started a conversation with a woman three stools down. Turned out she had sung opera but had been out of it for a while. The omelet arrived, stuffed with spinach and glorious feta. More conversation. I told her of the performance coming up. She said she'd try to get a friend to go, someone she's been trying to convince to join the NYC Gay Men's Choir, then she left for work. I finished my omelet and headed to Bloomie's.

Bloomingdale's was what I expected to a certain degree. Many designer clothes. Very clean, reminding me of Nordstrom. The women's large size department was in the basement. I thought that was rude. They had no leather coats to speak of. By the time I got out of there, my feet were hurting and I needed to get back to the hotel in time for rehearsal.

The concert was divided into two parts: "When We No Longer Touch" was to be done first, then "Sing For The Cure". The rehearsal for "Sing" was scheduled for the afternoon on Friday, morning on Saturday, which meant opportunities to sleep for our group. I returned to the hotel in time to rest a little before going down. I was hot in my turtleneck shirt so I changed into my t-shirt which I had been using as my night shirt. The only t-shirt I had brought. I was cooler, but it also was gaining more of my sweat. Ugh.

I won't go into the rehearsal details, as most of it is pretty dull stuff for reading and I didn't note down some of the things the director Tim said that were pretty amusing. I will say that during the rehearsal the director lost his balance after jumping off the podium and ended up in my lap. "Oh, I'm sorry, are you okay?" he says. "Ohhh baby!" I murmured. He gave me a little kiss, then got up. "I just love redheads!" he quipped, then went back to the business at hand. I'll bet there were some tenors who were just greeeen with envy! Yeah, right. 'Nuff said.

After rehearsal, I was hot, tired, hungry, and feeling a little crawly inside. My temper was getting short and the prospect of going out on the town that night did not really appeal to me at all. We went to the food court at Grand Central Station (which was next door) to find dinner. I found some and quickly sought out a quiet corner where I and others could eat. The feast? Sesame chicken, stir fry beef, and rice. I scarfed it down, hoping that would help settle my mental mood. But when a fellow chorister started to talk my ear off, I felt that familiar panic again. I needed a break. I HAD to have a break! I would have a breakdown and say things I would regret if I didn't get out of the noise, the chaos, and the attention. It didn't matter if the room was hot; it was quiet, it held my medication, it was safe. I told my fellow choristers with me I wasn't going out that night and fled for my room. I was able to give my Broadway ticket to another chorister to try to sell. When asked why, I told him I needed space very badly.

The room was silent. I took my medication and stripped off for bed. I pulled out my knitting and worked on the front of the sweater. Knit, knit, knit. Purl, purl, yarn over, knit 2 together, purl, purl, knit, knit, knit..... Calm. Silence. Stitches forming in my hands. Fabric falling from the needles. One stitch. One more stitch. Breathe. Breathe again. Deep breath. A drink of water. Another drink. Knit more then turn to purl across. Work pattern at the markers. Finish another row. Soft blue wool under my fingers. The quiet click of the needles. I find the thermostat and turn it down as far as it will go. One of my roommates comes in and after a short chat settles down to read before going to bed. We both go to sleep early. I am comfortable at last and sleep the sleep of the dead.

Knitlympics Day Six - NYC Day One

The 8:30 am flight to Chicago ended up being the 11:45 am flight. A line of thunderstorms kept all flights grounded at O'Hare, so while our flight was late it meant that our departure flight was also delayed. We had less than half an hour to run from one gate to the next (fortunately not a long run). We took off with a flock of teenage girls that had more air in their heads than the plane's tires. By the time we got to LaGuardia, it was nearly 10 pm eastern time. It was good to land and stretch and get away from the airheads. I was dressed for cool weather so when I got to LaGuardia I was drenched.

I flew with the bulk of the Confluence Chorus group, so the waits and flights weren't interminable. I had a chance to talk with Renee's wife Donna, who is a weaver and knitter. She was working on a cabled vest for Renee in beautiful heathered grey 2-ply wool while we were traveling. I had a chance to chat with her about weaving and weaving measurements vs. knitting terms. I learned:

1. Sett is not the same as wraps per inch. The sett is the number of warp threads per inch depending on the type of weaving pattern you're going to do. A basic weave sett is roughly half the measurement of wpi, because you're leaving spaces between the threads.

2. Weaving yarn, especially warp yarn, is treated so that it can handle the constant friction of the shuttle. Some yarns are treated with a substance that washes out later. It's something to watch out for when buying weaving yarns for knitting projects.

I cast on the Knitlympic sweater front the night before so that I could work with two sets of needles for the edging. The border requires that the cast on edge be picked up with the next row of stitches to make a picot edge. The rest has a border along the steek where the zipper will go, so the front isn't entirely mindless. By the time we landed in LaGuardia, I had finished one skein of Rowanspun and knitted up 13 1/2 inches of the front.

More tomorrow....dreams of leather and getting a full night's sleep....

A Path To Understanding

I leave for NYC tomorrow and I'm nervous as all get out. Most of it is excitement but part of it is the performance. I don't feel ready. Even knowing I'll be in the middle of a huge choir I'm still not ready. I sing First Tenor in the program, lower First Tenor in our only TTBB piece, "Livin' Out Loud" (my favorite and I hope sung at my wake). I'll sing through it today while I'm packing and hopefully be less nervous. Being with my friends from choir will help a lot.

Reid sent me an article he had written 5 years ago about what factors made his transition from female to male smoother. It made me think about what made me more accepting of my own orientation.

I didn't fully accept myself until April 1994 when I realized that my affection for my best friend from high school was more intimate and sexually directed than a usual relationship between friends. I didn't come out to friends until later that year; I came out to my relatives when I joined the Portland Lesbian Choir in 1999. There was a bond within that group that gave me the courage to tell my sisters and brothers I was a lesbian and it gave me the confidence to pursue my desires.

But I didn't really feel a family bond until I joined Confluence Chorus. I enjoy women, but I really enjoy the company of men. When I'm at a mixed party, I gravitate toward the men. Singing with Confluence gave me a sense of wholeness that I had not felt at any other time. The group is comprised of heterosexuals, gay men, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgender folk. I have learned so much from this family of singers and gained so much understanding of the other cultures of queer life that if I had to leave it would wrench me more than if I had to sever ties with my blood family.

When I was with the PLC I identified myself as lesbian, but I was truly bisexual. I had said early in my life that I didn't care who I loved as long as the love was mutual. Gender had nothing to do with it. But I didn't dare identify myself that way within the PLC or with some lesbians for fear of being ostracised as not being part of the "club". In Confluence, I could embrace my bisexuality. I could be me and know that I was loved as a person who happens to be bisexual.

We sing "True Colors", which Cyndi Lauper sang in the 80's. It's a song that tells the audience we care about you no matter who you are. We don't judge you by your orientation, your race, your creed. It's you we care about and we embrace you. For those going through transition in our group, it's a very moving song. We sing it at our retreats and there are always some who are so moved by the spirit it raises they can only mouth the words as the tears flow (I'm one of them).

So I hope we take that spirit with us to New York and project it in our voices. Our group is a microcosm of Confluence. We have straight, gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender members representing Confluence in this concert. We will show our true colors and bring our joy to share.

The back is done!

Right as the US won the gold in the Combined Alpine Skiing, I finished the bindoff of the back. Tomorrow I'll cast on for the front and block the back.

Knitlympics Day Five

The day flew by thankfully. I spent most of it training someone on the system they'll be using instead of the old system. This morning I had the Percocet sleepies and was falling asleep at my desk. Not a good thing. Tomorrow I get to clean clothes, clean my kitchen, and pack for New York. Between dish and clothing loads I'll get to knit. I'm three inches from the last armhole decreases; eight more to go before I start the shoulder shaping.

I got a nice ecard from one of my college buds and her family. No flowers, some candy from my coworkers, and a couple of paper cards. I sent one to Reid. The more I learn about him, the more he amazes me. We have marvelous conversations to and from chorus about politics, religion, people in general, past choir experiences (we sang in the Portland Lesbian Choir but he was gone when I joined), and cats. You can read about him here.

Knitlympics Day Four

A workday so not much knitting going on. I may knit tonight, depending on how I do. I had oral surgery last week and the area is tender, more so after I eat or talk too much. I had to resort to the more heavy duty drugs so I may end up sitting stoned in my chair while watching the Olympics.

This business with the Western media and how they're interpreting the riots going on in Muslim countries, neighborhoods, etc. I listen to the commentary and can't figure out why they don't understand why there is such a stink about the Danish cartoon portraying the Prophet Mohammed. In my mind it boils down to this: the Islamic faith prohibits any visual depiction of the Prophet. None. Not even in positive images or teaching materials. None. Period. Christianity doesn't have that prohibition; Jesus Christ is depicted everywhere from Bible illustrations to keychains, statues, and tattoos. A cartoon of Jesus doing something blasphemous would raise a stink, but depicting Mohammed is most definitely a no-no.

Tomorrow will be the last workday before I head east. It will be hard to stay focused. Wednesday is cleaning, preparing, and packing day. The hair will be done, the outfits chosen, and the packing list gone over once, again, and again. The perfect handbag will hold the essentials and the knitting bag will ride with me on the plane. I will have to go through my tools to make sure I don't carry anything that will have to be left behind. That would be a major boo hiss.

Knitlympics Day Three

The Carnegie Hall jitters are growing. Sunday was the last rehearsal. We're rough but hopefully the rehearsals we have in NYC will solidify our sound. We're all excited about the trip and a little worried about the weather (they had a nor'easter this weekend that dumped a foot or more of snow along the coast). But there are good signs. A fellow chorister sold me a used Coach handbag that was exactly what I've been looking for. She got some spending money in the process. I'm up to the armhole shaping on the back. I'm making very good progress so far. I'm trying not to push myself too hard and injure myself. The tendonitis was not completely healed so it's been flaring up. Judicious massage of my arms and shoulders have kept it in check.

Knitlympics Day Two

I ended up watching the opening ceremonies last night as I was working on my sweater. Would someone please tell NBC's head of camera shots that if you're going to show something that is designed to be seen as a whole and is done on a platform that's as big as a football field that it's much more effective and enjoyable for the viewer if you don't do FIFTY BAZILLION CLOSE-UPS!!! Ok. Cow over.

Speaking of cows, how about those cow ballroom dancing outfits, hey? I don't think I'll be seeing those on PBS during the ballroom dancing competitions soon. But I have to say the Italians really tried to make the opening ceremonies spectacular. The dancers showing the beating heart and the ski jumper were really cool. I can't imagine how many hours they had to practice those moves. "Left. Left. I said LEFT! Now right! Up! Down! Bring out the blue fabric and run like hell! Run! RUN! Oh Christ...."

Six inches done on the back of the sweater. Some was done while I was at my group's rehearsal for the Carnegie Hall concert. Some was done on the way home. Some was done last night. Some will be done tonight. The tennis balls will come out and be utilized on my shoulders, and I'll be massaging my arms at the critical points where the muscles like to stay tensed up. It's a good beginning. I have to have 16 inches done before I start doing my armhole shaping.

Knitlympics Day One

Rules state: cast on not allowed until the agreed upon time of 2:00 pm regardless of time zone.

Reality state: the source of yarn fundage requires that I take my break at 3:00 pm.

There are other diversions that take my mind away from today's start, but I count the minutes to 3:00. I dash to the break room and start casting on for the back. One hundred six stitches on size 7 needles using the long tail cast on. I finish the cast on and a row and a half during break. My car is at the mechanic's so I plan to ride the MAX train there, but a fellow worker offers me a ride. I finish purling my row and do a row of the picot edge. After forking out for my baby I go to a nearby fabric store and pick up the zipper for the cardigan. I don't have EXACTLY what I want, which is a copper zipper with a nice pull, but I have a good heavy duty YKK zipper in grey that will nestle out of sight in the place of the steek that I will put in the front.

Will settle down tonight with knitting in hand to watch "The Duchess of Duke Street" as the opening ceremonies don't really interest me.

25 more things about me

I got to thinking about the 50 things and they're kind of blah to read. Sure some are very much to the point but do they really say much about me? So here's some more.

51. Of the cities I've been to, which aren't many, the one I would like to see again is Montreal. I also want to return to San Francisco, Washington DC and New York City. I have no desire whatsoever to return to Los Angeles.

52. Of the cities I've seen but never been to, I would like to visit Edinburgh or Heidelburg or Stockholm. I have no desire to visit Mexico City or Calcutta or Taipei.

53. I went to Yellowstone Park and outside of the geysers it looked a lot like the drier forests of Oregon. I'm not sure I would want to go back again.

54. The non-urban place I would visit again and again is the Oregon Coast. I would like to return to Yosemite and Banff National Park and visit Glacier National Park.

55. My favorite means of transportation is the airplane. It's very disappointing that it has been turned into a travel method so potentially annoying (add one crying child). It's always so magical to me that this vehicle of thousands of pounds can get off the ground at all.

56. Unless my life is dependent upon it, I will not step onto a Greyhound bus again in my life. They don't call it "riding the dog" for nothing.

57. The longest road trip I've taken was to Ridgecrest California. I went down I-5 through Oregon and cut over to the California coast at Cave Junction, driving along Highway 1 to Boonville and going into San Francisco to stay with my best friend from college a couple of days. From there I crossed over through Yosemite Pass and down the back side of the Sierra Nevada to Ridgecrest. It was a beautiful drive with lots of interesting scenery. The most breathtaking point was seeing the moon rise over the desert.

58. My favorite color is red. I prefer to wear rich colors with black as the neutral.

59. Shopping for clothes is both a dream and a nightmare. I love to spend money but it's a bitch to find anything that I find attractive on my body. My dream body would be clad in black leather: corset, pants, armlength gloves, Doc Marten boots.

60. To have my dream body, I would need to lose 90 pounds.

61. If I were to relive my childhood, I would be more assertive and beaten up the bullies that tormented me in the 7th grade.

62. I am happier now than I was 20 years ago.

63. Other fiber-related hobbies I've done are quilting, clothing construction, beadwork, and crochet. I've also done collage, painting, plaster mask-making, and pottery. My favorite non-fiber piece I've done is a deck of tarot cards.

64. The oldest memory I have is standing in my crib and crying. I was sick with the measles, as were my younger sister and middle brother. I shared my bedroom with my sister at the time. I remember seeing the RCA black and white set that was usually in Mom and Dad's room set up for my sister to watch while she was recovering. I was probably 1 or 2 years old.

65. The most disturbing dream I have had occurred a few months after my mother's death. I had not fully realized that she was gone until I had a dream where she and I were doing the things that we loved to do: shop in antique stores, drive around town, sit and eat lunch together. When I told her I would come by to pick her up again the next day, she told me that I couldn't because she was dead. I woke up and cried for some time. The next most disturbing dream I had occurred 2 weeks after the World Trade Center attacks in 2001. I dreamed that the house I grew up in was on fire and everything that I held precious to me was going up in flames. I later learned that other people had had similar dreams during that time.

66. I usually dream in color and remember my dreams.

67. I wanted to be a writer when I grew up but was too insecure to pursue it as a career.

68. My favorite season is autumn, especially when the nights get really cold. My least favorite season is summer.

69. I enjoy working on computers and have considered a career in them but opted not to pursue it as at the time the market was flooded with out of work computer geeks. I know enough to get myself out of trouble in most instances and enough to know when to call in my computer guru to fix it.

70. I know how to use basic household tools and have done home repairs without fear. My mother taught me most of what to do. The most complex thing I've done is install ceiling light/fan fixtures.

71. I live in a haunted house. I believe the ghost is the father of the woman who used to own the house. Her grandmother had owned the house before her and her father was a carpenter. He visited me while I was painting the house interior before moving in and has visited friends and family who have stayed the night, appearing as a bright green floating head with white hair. The first year I had some problems with my answering machine and doorbell but after that I had no problems. He hasn't been seen in several years.

72. My house will celebrate its 100th year in 2013.

73. I composed my first song at 14. It's unpublished. It was a theme song to go with a story I was writing at the time.

74. When I write a story, I usually associate music with it. I have soundtracks for most of my longer writings. Earlier soundtracks used rock songs; my most recent soundtrack uses a lot of ambient, world and new age tracks. To this day when I play that soundtrack, it triggers memories and emotions related to the works I was writing at that time.

75. I have a hard time choosing a favorite classical composer because several convey different emotions within me. If I had to choose 5, they would be Beethoven, Chopin, Tchaikovsky, J.S. Bach, and Gershwin.

We are SOOO ready!!!!

GO TEAM WALES!!

One more day to go!

The Oregonian published an article in their Living section yesterday morning about the Knitting Olympics. I had a head's up on it so got my own issue, but I've already had one coworker come up with a copy. I'm not a closet knitter; I'm very much out and proud of my knitting. I haven't been silent about being part of the Knitting Olympics either as a member of Team Wales. Why did I join Team Wales?

1. I'm part Welsh.

2. Cool red dragon on the flag.

3. I'm fond of male voice choirs.

4. I know what a leek is and have enjoyed them.

5. I know what currants are and have enjoyed them (they're tasty in scones.)

6. The co-captain is a fellow lister and former Portlander.

The Yarn Harlot says there's over 3300 participants. Some local yarn shops are giving out medals to participants but I feel that's not really intended in the spirit of the thing. You're challenging yourself, not each other, to do this. That's reward enough.I'm doing down time today from the needles. I worked on a hat to match my giganto-scarf for New York and ended up with sore muscles and a right hand that ached so much that it woke me up an hour before my alarm was to go off. I've been knitting daily for a while. Time for a break.

I read some more of Franklin's 100 Things and feel very inferior. Not me as a person, but for my writing. I'll put out more interesting things.

I couldn't sleep last night. My mind was whirling with memories of my last trip to NYC and the things I want to see. I can't believe that in a week I'll be on my way there.

50 Things About Me

I like the idea of having a list of things that describe me. I'll be frank: I love me and want the world to know about me. So there's the egotist in me. I found similar lists on QueerJoe's Knitting Blog and Franklin's Panopticon (they went to 100, but I'm sticking to 50 for now). If you get bored with my list, you can check out theirs. Or this.

1. I'm the seventh-born child of my father, the fifth of my mother. I have a half-sister and half-brother who are old enough to be my parents. They have children my age.

2. I'm a fifth-generation Oregonian and thirteenth-generation American. A distant relative traced our ancestry back to the Danes landing in Kent England in the turn of the second millenium. Another relative traced an ancestor's arrival from Wales to the US.

3. I have naturally wavy dark brown hair with red highlights.

4. My paternal grandmother had naturally curly red hair.

5. My maternal grandfather and my maternal uncles died from colon cancer. My mother died of cancer of the kidney that spread to her bones.

6. My father was an alcoholic and died of Alzheimer's disease.

7. I am not an alcoholic but I am addicted to food.

8. I am 5'3" tall and weigh over 250 pounds.

9. I have been overweight all my life.

10. I am a Gemini with Leo Rising and Scorpio Moon. My being Gemini indicates that I'm a good communicator, but that's not always true. I'm more prone to having ideas flitting through my head at breakneck speed and wanting to know what's going on with everybody. My Leo is very strong: I love to perform and create. I'm also very emotional and will cry at weddings.

11. I have three cats.

12. I have had a cat in my life every day except for a month when I was 6 years old and during the months I was at college.

13. I have a bachelor's degree in business from Linfield College.

14. My first job was as a bag boy (official name courtesy clerk) at my mom's favorite grocery store, Kienow's Food Stores, which is no longer in existence. I worked there 5 years.

15. My first worker's comp injury was carpal tunnel syndrome from working the cash register 40 hours a week.

16. My second worker's comp injury was pulling my back from lifting 50 pounds of cat litter wrong.

17. I buy 50 pounds of cat litter a month.

18. I am an omnivore.

19. I don't like oysters, liver, cauliflower, parsnips, eggplant, or cooked green peppers.

20. My favorite food is homemade macaroni and cheese.

21. My favorite vegetable is the cucumber.

22. My favorite fruit is the peach.

23. My favorite meat is a T-bone beefsteak.

24. My favorite intoxicant is tequila.

25. I was a second-hand smoker for 25 years.

26. I own my house.

27. I own a VW New Beetle.

28. I learned how to knit in college.

29. I stopped knitting 6 years later.

30. I started knitting again October 2002.

31. My favorite fiber is wool.

32. I'm allergic to mohair.

33. I came out as a lesbian in 1994.

34. I came out as bisexual in 2002.

35. I've had only one true relationship and that was with a woman.

36. I've written 3 novels but published none.

37. I've invented a language.

38. My favorite dream is flying without being in an airplane.

39. In my first election, I voted for John Anderson. I have missed only 5 elections since.

40. I wear size 7 1/2 D shoes.

41. I have been wearing glasses since the 6th grade.

42. I had a crush on my 7th grade math teacher.

43. I've been singing since February 2000. Before that, my last public singing performance was with the 6th grade chorus.

44. I played piano for 6 years as a child.

45. I own over 500 CDs.

46. My favorite group in high school was Queen. My favorite group now is the Beatles.

47. My eyes are dark brown.

48. I had my first grey hair at 26.

49. My parents died when I was 26.

50. I'm an aunt to 13 nieces and nephews, great-aunt to 17, and great-grand aunt to 5. But not a mother.

Preparing for Torino

The Knitting Olympics start Friday. I am so ready to start knitting on my Rowanspun sweater. The yarn is wound, the needles are free of other projects, the pattern is written and ready, and the time is planned. There are a few rules I plan to follow while doing this so that I don't end up with major tendonitis. You may find them handy.

1. If it hurts, stop. Massage the arms and shoulders. Step away from the needles and do something that doesn't require your arms and hands.

2. Take 10 minute breaks every 30 minutes when doing knitting for long periods.

3. Eat well. Drink plenty of fluids.

4. Keep your glasses on to avoid eyestrain. This one may sound weird but my eyes have reached a point where I'm thiiiiiiiiis close to getting bifocals. The narrow lens fashion specs have not made it easy for me to do close work. However, when I take them off to see, I can't see close at all for some time. So I want to avoid eyestrain.

5. This is not a competition; it's a joint project. If you don't make it, don't sweat it.

6. No cats on the lap while knitting to avoid shoulder strain. (This one's gonna be hard when I'm home.)

7. If tendonitis starts to flare up, stop. Period. See item 5.

My choir friends will have to be used to seeing me knitting while we're in New York City for our Carnegie Hall performance. I've knitted while walking before (I knitted a Bag O'Plenty while marching in the Portland Dyke Parade three years ago). Purling may be a little tricky, but I'm up for the challenge. I can see me now knitting my sweater in the Metropolitan Museum of Art while viewing the exhibits.