Warty Bobbles

Summer Travel Plays Havoc With Blogging

Dateline:  Santa Clara, Calif.  Sasha and I drove here directly from our family vacation at the Oregon Coast.  She is moving into a new apartment and I am her driving buddy/cheap moving labor.   And I can never resist a chance to spend 14 hours of quality time in a Dodge Neon with one of my kids.

Anyhow, since car space was limited and since I will be flying back home, I packed the minimum: clean underwear, Lancome face cream, 4 knitting projects, and a few other necessities.  And I brought My Pet (mini-laptop computer).  I figured I could finish writing about the Oregon Coast yarn shops Sarah and I visited – I had started a blog post about them nearly a week ago, but vacation activities interrupted and I didn’t get back to it.  But I figured (rightly) that I would have a little down-time in the hotel here in California to finish it up.

So, this evening, we set up the wireless internet account ($12.95 – the price of a decent skein of mohair) and I popped up my half-written piece on the yarn shops – only to realize that there was no way I could write about the yarn I bought since it had all gone home to Washington with the rest of the family when I had gone south with Sasha!

I tried conjuring the yarns up in mind, but I cannot get the feel of them, the colors (nor any of the important details like brand name and fiber content).  Yarn is just too darn tangible.  So, even though I have photos saved in My Pet and even though I brought the Nestucca Bay Yarns and Fibers card with me so I could spell “Nestucca” correctly, I am stuck (and tongue-tied) without the yarn itself.

So, I will have to wait until I get home to rattle on about the Oregon Coast yarn shops.

And since there is nothing really interesting to detail about the hours I spent in the car working on the poppy-colored Baby Ull blanket (Blueberry's Yzma Blanket) – mostly knit the knits and purl the purls – I will have to fall back on a photo of Gwen in her new kimono (designed for our layette class) and call it good (worth the $12.95?).

Knitting At The Beach

A family vacation at The Beach seems like an ideal knitting situation – until one is actually at The Beach with the family! 

I have worked many rows on Gwen’s blankets – which is the simplest knitting I brought.  Good for car trips into town, manageable in a fairly small living room with everyone talking at once, easy to toss aside when 2-year-old Max discovers some novel danger, welcome after 2 beers and a rousing game of “Taboo."  I have worked on my lace knitting, too (somehow!  I think everyone else had gone swimming or something). 

But even without the family influence, my powers of concentration are undermined by flights of pelicans, sunlight burnishing the surface of the ocean, the conversational roar and rush of the ocean itself.  The lure of crunchy beach walks, of starry skies and meteor showers, of rowdy pool games and long soaks in the hot tub.  I find myself watching for whales or osprey while my knitting lies idle in my lap.  And sometimes I just drowse.  I suppose that is the “vacation” part kicking in.

 

 

 

 

 

Portable Projects

During the summer months, I appreciate being able to take my knitting with me (beach, park, festival, car trip, etc.).  So, I make sure to have a couple of portable projects going at all times.  Only certain projects make the cut.

Not every project can be stuffed inside a bag – if it requires frequent color changes and has an entourage of yarn balls, for example.  Or if there are lots of notes or books that go along with it – so most designing projects stay home.  Or if it might not survive being dragged through the sand by a 2-yr-old.  Or if it is genuinely irreplaceable (yarn I will never find again, perhaps, or if the design is undocumented) – because what if the parking garage exploded?

I try to keep my portable projects in a certain bag, so I can grab-and-go (the family sighs nosily if I shout “oops, wrong project!” and leap out of the car just as we are driving off).  Actually, the whole bag issue has its own issues, too.  I worry that a knitting bag looks temptingly like a purse left on the seat of the car.  So, I either have to be able to stow the bag out of sight or I will drag the innards (yarn, needles, etc.) out and display them in an obvious manner that says: I am a knitting bag not a purse.  Sometimes, I just bring my knitting in a Ziploc bag (by the way, there are terrific ones with expandable bottoms that are fabulous for knitting projects) and avoid the whole knitting-bag/purse confusion altogether.

My portable projects are usually simple ones – or the simpler stages such as a stockinette sleeve with an obvious increase (such as “every right side row”).  Something I can pick-up-put-down-pick-up-put-down-pack-away-mid-row is good.  The less keeping-track-of-rows the better.  Actually, something with little patterning is beat of all since I will probably be knitting amid distractions or might be expected to watch for freeway exit signs. 

On a true road trip (when I will be spending several hours in the car at a stretch) I will take something more ambitious – and generally a lot of it since I apparently (ambitiously) assume I will be knitting 60 mph! 

Airplane travel, while offering good blocks of knitting time, has its own constraints – mostly dealing with security regulations and my slightly manic fear of having a pair of expensive needles ripped from my work-in-progress at the passenger check-point.

And now just as I figure I have the whole portable knitting thing strategized, a new challenge arises:  for the first time since I was about 6 yrs. old, we are going camping!

Two Crazy Weeks And Three Vignettes

I have been traveling during the past two weeks: a few days in Portland (unexpectedly) to help my parents (my Dad had some sudden health issues), then home for about 12 hours before flying to Spokane with daughter Sonja and son-in-law Jordan to see son Geoff in Urinetown.  Back home for about a day, then back to Portland.  Some knitting along the way (of course), but no blogging (which you may have noticed!).

 

Sarah was on a road-trip to California the whole time I was gone-and-back-and-gone-again.  So, I taught our knitting class on my own and also took on several individual sessions during the few daylight hours that I was in town.  It has been a crazy couple of weeks!  We did stay in touch by phone – and she would send me text messages, such as: Went to yarn store.  Bought yarn for baby hats.  (Sarah is obsessed with baby hats these days – making several for her baby which is due in May, as well as for the babies of all her pregnant friends.  I think she is stocking up on them for friends who are not yet pregnant, but might be someday.  It is, one can only suppose, her nesting instinct kicking in!)

 

I have 3 little vignettes from the crazy-couple-of-weeks.

 

The first was the most satisfying experience of sitting with my Mother in her house and knitting a soft wooly peachy sweater for my grandbaby.  My Mother told me how she herself learned to knit when my Dad was in college and the other wives in student housing were all knitting and helping each other learn.  Her own Mother (a Finnish immigrant) knit, of course, but did so when the older brothers and sisters were young (my Mother was 8^th of 9 children).  My Mother said:  but if something went wrong, she knew how to fix it.  I could feel the flow of family through the generations.

 

The second was an irritating and awkward situation with a flight attendant on the plane back from Spokane.  She leaned over me while I was knitting and, as smiling and cheerful as can be launched into a tirade that went something like this:

 

You don’t know how WHAT YOU ARE DOING makes us sooo nervous!  All of us flight attendants.  Now, you don’t have to stop WHAT YOU ARE DOING.  You aren’t doing anything wrong.  But it makes us sooo worried, especially during take-off and landing. The FAA says WHAT YOU ARE DOING it is okay and you don’t have to stop, but, WHAT YOU ARE DOING, it makes us sooo nervous…..

 

It went on like that for quite a while.  And I just kept smiling and knitting and did not say a thing.  I was working on the peachy baby sweater using size 2 circular wooden needles – pretty much glorified toothpicks – and George was sitting right next to me writing with a pencil that was about 5 times their size.  The woman next to me was holding a sturdy book and there were others with lap-top computers that would make a lot more of a dent if thrown through the air.  Good heavens, one woman was holding a baby….

 

Anyhow, a family member who works for the same airline said that this flight attendant’s attitude was not common and that her statements were inappropriate.  So, I feel a bit vindicated.

 

The final vignette is a dream segment. First, you will recall that I have been handling our knitting students on my own while Sarah was traveling.  And that I have been on the crisis committee regarding my parents.  So here’s the dream segment from last night:

 

You know how firefighters run in a line carrying a hose to the fire?  Well, I was in a configuration like that, except that the “hose” was a giant circular knitting needle and we were all carrying the cable and rushing off to fix something! 

 

 

 

 

Foregoing And Foregone

We had a lovely Thanksgiving with our family at the Oregon Coast – in spite of foregoing the opportunity to visit two very fine yarn shops (A Yarn For All Seasons in Newport and Nestucca Bay Yarns in Lincoln City).

Sarah and I had had our hopes, of course – in spite of being unable to conjure any real need for new yarn (aside from some eggshell Hempathy the like of which we had purchased at A Yarn For All Seasons about a year-and-a-half ago). 

 

In truth, I consider visiting yarn shops a courtesy – something on the level of a diplomatic courtesy, actually.  So, if I am in the area, I feel it would be rude not to stop in.  And, if I am going to fondle their mohair and thumb through their pattern books and analyze their selection of needles with squinty eyes and pursed lips for, say, an hour or so, I figure I had better buy something.  It works out very well for all parties involved. 

 

But as it turned out, we were not able to get to the shops during their business hours without seriously disrupting family plans and so we decided that, in the spirit of the holiday and our deep love of family, we could forego the yarn shops – all the time reasoning we could hit Nestucca Bay Yarns on our way home Monday anyhow (when Sarah and I would be traveling by car with only Max – who, at not quite 2 yrs. old, has limited input).

 

Well, come Monday we got a later start than anticipated and had to make couple of other stops and reluctantly decided that we had better forego Nestucca altogether after all.   Big sigh.  Well, we had no conceivable need of yarn – or knitting books, needles, bags, notions.  Nothing.   No reason at all.  So, sensibly – and without speaking about it further – we drove past Nestucca and headed inland.

 

We drove on toward Portland – Sarah drove and I knit and Max eventually fell asleep.  But, although we have traveled that same road dozens of times, we missed the usual veering that would have had us bypass McMinnville and, instead, found ourselves trundling right through downtown McMinnville.

 

We were stopped at a traffic light when I happened to see Boersma’s Knitting Basket.  Right there on the corner:  broad windows, cheery lights, lots and lots of yarn.  I said, Look, Sarah, a yarn shop!  The light turned green, we pulled forward, turned into the next street and before conscious thought had even hit, we were waking the baby and trotting toward the shop.

 

And it was a lovely shop.  They had a great little play corner with toys, too.  So after we had made intense reconnaissance, we took turns watching Max in the play corner while the other one stroked and prodded and pondered the yarn.

 

Note:  It takes great love and patience to discuss Mr. Potato Head with a toddler when there are fifty kinds of alpaca yarn is clear sight.

 

Well, it all ended as one would expect – a classic “foregone conclusion” to our attempts at foregoing yarn shopping!  Sarah and I each walked away with a small bag of yarn (mine held a little latte-and-cream colored luxury...mmmm) and punch cards of the complete-and-receive-$25-in-yarn variety. 

 

And Max appreciated stretching his legs, I’m sure. 

Casting On For Taking Off

We are flying to Spokane tomorrow to see our son, Geoff, and I am a little nervous.  Not about the flight itself or flying in general – I am a bit frantic about what knitting to take.

I have been a bit spoiled by car travel:  just fill up the baskets with yarn, drop in as many pointy needles and sharp scissors and odd-looking accessories as desired, apologize as sweetly as possible to whoever loses foot space to that box of merino that just arrived (how fortunate!) by post, and off you go.

With air travel, it is a matter of how little knitting stuff I can get away with taking as well as how much knitting stuff I can get away with taking.

I don’t think I should arrive at the flight gate laden with baskets like a market woman.  And I do not want to imagine what might happen if they see an x-ray of my collapsible aluminum swift in my luggage.  Further, in spite of passenger information online that says knitting needles are okay, I do not intend to subject my Lantern Moon beauties to seizure should some security crack-down occur. 

So, there are dozens of questions buzzing through my brain:

What am I going to knit in the car to the airport/at the airport/in the plane/in the rental car from the airport?  And do I have cheap, short, innocent-looking needles to knit it on?  And will it be something I can slip the needles out of (should I have to surrender them to someone official) without saying something that will get me in trouble?

If I bring only simple knitting, will I have to bring a lot of extra yarn as it might go quickly?  Will I get bored with it should I have time to sit quietly and knit in the hotel? 

If I bring only complicated knitting, will I have to bring charts, cable needles, reference books, etc.?  And will I find it too much to deal with while traveling and doing mom-and-dad/college-kid-visit-stuff – and then not be able to knit at all?!

So far, I seem to need innocuous airplane-safe knitting, simple knitting (without too much yarn), and complicated knitting (without too much support stuff).   Do I have any projects going that fit any of those categories?  Am I going to have to cast on 3 new projects for a weekend trip?   And can this be done without an emergency trip to the yarn shop?

 

Beach Knitting

Packing knitting for our annual 2-week Beach trip is never as much of a challenge as one might think.  I just say to myself:  hey, 2 weeks of knitting!  And then I pack up everything I have on needles (including winter projects that were abandoned when the swallows returned – figuring that beach weather can be winter-ish and, after all, autumn is just around the corner), as well as a couple of planned projects that have not even been swatched (in case I finish all my other projects).  Then I grab a handful of needles in a variety of sizes (for swatching the new projects and just in case I happen across a yarn shop and get inspired).

I line up my 4 large bags on knitting by the front door – one bag carefully stocked with car knitting (2-3 projects – after all, it is a 5-hour drive).  And as family members pass back and forth with suitcases, stacks of beach towels, etc., they will glance at my bags, glance at me, and smirk.  Someone will ask if I really think I need to take all that knitting?  And, depending on how “packing day” is going, I will sigh or grin or stamp my foot and say, respectively:  probably not, but…(or) heck, yeah! (or) something inarticulate.

Several projects for 2 weeks at the beach would not seem excessive to most knitting enthusiasts.  But I am not going to the beach (quiet fireside evenings, stormy afternoons curled on the couch).  I am going to The Beach – our annual family vacation. The age range this year is 9 months to 89 years. It is true gathering of the clan with some 25-35 sisters, cousins, grandparents, et al.  (the age range this year is 9 months to 89 years). Large family meals, themed costume parties, card games, board games – as well as extensive family-generated team games that last for days and include pirate maps, obstacle courses, and scavenger hunts.  Swimming, beachcombing, shopping, golfing.  If the weather turns drizzly there are antique shops, the aquarium, art galleries.  We decorate each other with henna tattoos, make music videos, build sandcastles.  You get the idea.  Terrific fun, priceless experiences. Most of the family do not even bring knitting. 

But I do – after all, everyone else has to sleep some time.  There I will be:  sunburned and achy from a water fight, henna-tattooed and a little cranky from losing that last hand of poker – and knitting in bed to the sound of moonlit ocean waves crashing on the rocks.

Another Yarn Shop, Another Skein of Yarn

In Spokane, Sarah and I were looking forward to visiting Holy Threads, the very cool yarn shop I had found there last fall. Not only was it large and yarn-laden, but it had a welcoming, empowering spirit about it – at least, that is what I had experienced. I was eager to find out if it would feel that way on this trip as well and whether Sarah would sense it too. And I was eager to pet all their yarn. I was actually wearing the Spokane Ferocity tunic made from yarn I had bought during my inspirational fit in that very shop last fall.

This was to be our single fun-yarn-shopping-outing during a busy week in Spokane (helping my son, Geoff, with his illusion show – he is a professional magician and juggler who performs sideshow-style feats and escapes – and you were thinking, perhaps, I was a sane and normal woman…). Not only did we have specific yarn needs in mind, but we were open to what knitterly possibilities this shop – and all its magnificent yarn – could provide.

So imagine our crushing disappointment when we pulled up to Holy Threads and found it gone!

The ample house (which had housed ample yarn) was empty. No forwarding address. A couple of desolate spinning wheels in the front window. No yarn. (We later learned that the owner had retired and that the shop had closed a few weeks ago)

So, a little stunned, we sat in the car for a moment or two. Then, we sighed and took the only action we could conceive of taking. We called George (who was back at the hotel with the baby) and told him to hook up to the internet and find us another yarn store.

Ten minutes later, we were happily prowling about a lovely shop called A Grand Yarn – cordial staff, charming clientele, lots of yarn.

I fell for an engaging self-patterning sock-weight merino (Life Style) and thought it would make the basis for a cool summer top (“cool” as in funky). A Kathmandu Aran in a tweedy dark brown that is almost black. Rowan’s Kidsilk Aura in a glowing pink lemonade. Nice. I would have liked a shiny blue (a very specific and, as it turned out, unlikely shade of pale greenish-blue that I recall being popular for vinyl kitchen chairs in the 1960s). But no matter – I was content with 2 skeins of each of the merino and tweed and one of the Kidsilk.

Until a few days later when I got the “What if I don’t have enough” willies. The creepy foreshadowing of inevitable remorse. It was Saturday, the day before we were to leave Spokane (with no foreseeable return until fall). Sunday the shop would be closed. I had about a 45-minute window. So, George and I rushed off the A Grand Yarn (okay, I rushed, he just kindly drove). Two more balls each of the merino and tweed. And he found a Euroflax variegated linen with just the shade of blue I needed (mixed with dashes of almost-black-brown and pink-lemonade pink). He is just that good.

I confess that when we were about to pull out of the parking lot, I had one more attack of the willies and dashed back in to buy a second skein of the Euroflax – and that seemed to appease the knitting sprites. I was able to leave Spokane with an easy mind.

Knitter/Yarn Shop relationships are complex. It doesn’t pay to be thin-skinned and sometimes one has to just move on. I could write at least another blog or two on “Yarn Shops I Have Known: The True Confessions.” Nostalgia, poignancy – I will always treasure the slightly mystical experience I had at Holy Threads and wonder what might have been….but my nose and needles are confidently pointed toward the yarn shop on the horizon.

April Road Trips

I am home from a series of road trips and day trips. I had thought I might post from these exotic locations, but found myself completely taken up with the events (too many to list and having nothing to do with knitting) that brought me to these cities and I will content myself (and, hopefully, the Reader) with a little sum-up of road trip knitting from my point of view.

I am an enthusiastic road-tripper – provided, of course, that I do not have to do the driving, but can ride shot-gun and knit my way across the state or wherever. So, I shamelessly beg off all driving duty, if possible, build my “knitting nest” and settle with my trusty sidekick: the triple grande non-fat latte (perhaps it is actually my trusty side-triple-kick).

I always bring several projects – there is always the possibility that I might finish the one in hand, of course. More likely, I might break a needle or come to a tricky part that requires I check with a book or I might make some atrocious blunder that requires surgery (not recommended in a minivan at highway speeds). Or I might weary of cables or Fair Isle or slip-stitching or lace or whatever and need to switch to slip-stitching or lace or cables or Fair Isle or whatever. Or the conversation might become juicy or heated or delightfully convoluted and I find I need to change over to straight stockinette. (Try explaining any of this to the non-knitter in the backseat who has been politely asked to sacrifice his leg room to a substantial knitting duffle)

Conversations are one of the Distractions. People assume I must get a lot of knitting done on the road because of all the sitting-in-the-car time, but there are actually a number of Distractions that impede progress (knitting progress, I mean):

1) Scenery. A herd of black cattle, an osprey, mountains, a river, a million-million firs (on a mountain or beside a river), a giant inflated anything, a particularly robust hawk perched on a fence post, a single farmhouse, a city, a sign about Jesus – the world is an amazing place and worth, I’m afraid, setting down one’s knitting to see.

2) Conversation. As stated above – philosophical discussions, petty arguments, gossip, pie-in-the-sky plans. I can’t count and speak in full sentences at the same time.

3) Amusements. Sometimes, it is necessary to prevent the driver’s going into a “freeway coma” by playing 20 Questions or having a Neil Diamond sing-along. On one trip to and from Santa Clara University, we counted turkey vultures (over 200, I believe).

4) Duties. As the non-driver in the front seat, I assume flight attendant duties, such as handing ‘round snacks and water bottles, hunting for tissues, adjusting air temperature, attending to music requests. I am also the map/directions-reader and the “tell me when to turn/exit/stop/loop around and try again because we probably missed the turn/exit/stop” minion.

5) Fear. Heavy downpours, icy roads, impervious fog, narrow highways on steep mountainsides, big trucks, and (my newest terror) creeping along mountain passes in avalanche season. I find it my responsibility to announce imminent disaster and death – and I confess I am a bit squeamish about the possibility of being impaled by my knitting needles before crashing through the windshield.

All things considered, I actually did get a fair amount of knitting done in the car. Still, it is a pleasure to be back in my leather chair with room to spread out (and without bags of yarn on my feet).

PS There is an ugly rumor afloat in my family that I “made” my husband George do a LOT of driving with a broken ankle so I could knit. At the time, we both thought it was simply a bad sprain, of course, but that probably would not have made any real difference since: it was a MUTUAL decision based upon YEARS of marital experience which has proved that the drive is safer and more pleasant if he is behind the wheel -- and I am safer and more pleasant if I am behind my knitting needles while he is behind the wheel. AND I did the lioness’s share of hauling luggage, as well as being a delightful and patient companion while he sat in the hotel room elevating and icing his ankle. And if I did, indeed, knit while he was elevating and icing…..well, all to the good.

A Yarn

We are home briefly between road trips. Sarah did not think I would have time to post anything, but here I am with my suitcase packed (more or less) and my eyes still open (more or less), so I will tell a little story.

(It is essential for this story that the reader know – what the reader who has read my yarn rhapsodies already suspects – that my allegiance lies with quality yarn and that while I admit that inexpensive acrylics have their place, it is not, in my experience, on knitting needles. Call me a yarn snob if you must, but there it is)

Last weekend, George and I drove to Spokane to see our son, Geoff, in a college play. (Technically, George drove and I knit – but more on road-trip-knitting next time) I had hoped to visit Holy Threads, an amazing yarn shop in Spokane, before the play that evening – I even had a little list since Sarah called me en route on our van’s Blue Tooth and we discussed what colors we needed to fill out our “Dawn” colorway.

Pistachio, she said, and Cotton Candy and we can always use more Cream.

Well, by the time we got to the hotel, it was far into the afternoon and we could either dash off to the yarn shop or relax for half an hour or so before meeting Geoff for dinner. I felt it would not be fair for George, who had driven the whole way (and who does not knit and who has no interest in yarn), to be coerced into climbing back into the van so I could spend 20 minutes petting yarn. (I knew we would be returning to Spokane a week later and that I could get to Holy Threads then – so I could afford to be magnanimous).

So, I said, no, darling, let’s just relax and then enjoy our evening with our son.

The next day, we loaded up the van and then took Geoff to Fred Meyer for some groceries before starting the trip home. (I confess that, at this point, I was feeling a little wistful about Holy Threads, but they were closed on Sunday) Geoff needed some art supplies as well, so there we were in the craft aisle selecting pens and tablets – when I turned around to see George dramatically placing three skeins of Red Heart acrylic yarn in the cart – one pistachio, one cotton candy, one cream! And he had this big lovey smile on his face.

My eyes widened and my mouth fell open – and I didn’t know quite what to say. And then he laughed!

He laughed and I sputtered, But I would never…!
And he grinned and said, I know.
And I stared and said, But those were exactly the colors…
And he smirked and said, I know. And he put the skeins back on the shelf.

It was kind of like that moment in Jurassic Park when the velociraptor tilts its head and opens the kitchen door.