I am dreaming about knitting. I see myself designing flowing capes and stylish hats. My hands are busy with beautiful yarns, and I stroke them and sort through them, letting each inspire me with a new creation. This is my dream, but it is also my daily life. Taking the yarn from bags and arranging it on shelves and in bins has been a spiritual experience. The beautiful colours and assorted textures take away my breath and make me sigh with contentment.
There are wonderful products on my plate, some for my store, some as custom orders. Handling all those balls of beautiful, randomly striping Noro made me fall in love with it again. I am halfway finished with a Silk Garden loose cowl which has a feather-and-fan lace bottom and ribbed neck. I'm crocheting some heavy wools, mostly Brown Sheep Burly Spun but also some Artyarns hand-dyed, into a rug. That will be a fun felting project, probably in someone else's washing machine. A friend wants a ruffle scarf appropriate for Miami weather (my choice is a silky bamboo). I just finished a custom scarf knit from cream Burly Spun with two strands of Mini-Mochi in a gorgeous red/purple/rust colorway. I've ordered yarn for a custom pink and black striped baby blanket that will have the little girl's name duplicate-knit in the center. I'm using two strands of Knitpicks Crayon to make it fluffy and soft. My second order of Therapi has arrived, so I'm finishing a salmon-pink cap with cables all around. I made myself get out of a right-cable rut and learned to make left-cables without using a cable needle.
Lately I've come to think of my Chattanooga Market booth as a real store, not just a place where I tote my wares and set up a make-shift sales venue. I requested the same location for the remainder of the season, wanting to be associated with a specific place in the minds of our regular shoppers. I cried when I was too sick to attend Market this week. I had repacked my car the day before, making everything more efficient, assuring that I had the maximum number of products that are appropriate for the season. I woke on Sunday with coughing and wheezing. Still I bathed and dressed in warm "work" clothes and went out in the rain to sit in my car. I was so uncomfortable that I knew I couldn't go, but I sat behind the wheel for a while, savoring the feeling of being ready for market day. I have three more days-November 29, and the December 4-5 special holiday weekend.
Today is the day that I finish getting yarn on shelves. I'm off to Office Depot for a few more small, clear bins.
Peace.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
Monday, November 16, 2009
Ruffled Scarf and Other Market News
I am writing at 3:30 a.m. because I fell asleep before 9 p.m. My brain thinks it is morning, so I'm taking advantage of relative alertness to make this update.
Sundays frequently end early, as I'm up by 6 to start the hectic market day. I begin by loading equipment and products into the car, if I haven't completed that task the night before. Then I have a quick breakfast and get cleaned up and dressed to present a nice vendor image. After I drive downtown, I check in, get a cup of coffee, and unload my equipment. It takes about two and one-half hours to put my booth together and get all my products displayed.
Yesterday was a milestone, my first run of three consecutive market weeks. Now that I know I can do it, I have prepared for the rest of the season and the coming spring by upgrading my equipment a bit. No, I didn't hit SmartFurniture.com for a fancy display setup (think $3000). I spent a few bucks at Bed, Bath and Beyond on snap-together cubes made of metal grids, a reduced flat bedsheet and two rolling hanging clothes racks. For less than $130, I now have a nice cube system that sits on top of my table and holds items like hats and wash cloths, plenty of hanging space for scarves, baby sweaters, baby blankets and adult clothing. I was thrilled to have a more professional looking, organized store yesterday.
With a proper display system, I attract more lookers and shoppers. People were stopping in awe just to say "Did you make all of these yourself?" and I could proudly say that I designed and knitted or crocheted everything in the shop. It was much easier to show what I had and help buyers select things for themselves and for gifts. I even had a proper packaging station set up, and room to write down my credit card purchases and special orders.
One of the most fun events of yesterday's market was recruiting neighboring vendors to help me sing "Happy Birthday" to my mom. It was her 90th. I knew I would be exhausted and that call would have to do for the day. We sung with enthusiasm. No one would have special-ordered that performance. I asked my mom how it felt to be 90, and she said "I feel old." She's entitled.
Special orders have increased lately. Last week I had three from the market, and I completed the pair of extra skinny fingerless mitts, the green ruffled scarf you see below, and an entrelac organic cotton wash cloth this week. The holiday hand towels you see were knitted for another special order, and I finished Valentine's Day and blocked them both for mailing tomorrow. The little Christmas trees and heart are duplicate knit. Simple patterns like that can be free-handed, but if I have any requests I will publish the diagrams.
Speaking of patterns, here's the ruffled scarf:
The scarf is worked back and forth on circular needles. The final length is about 74 inches. Gauge is unimportant.
Materials: approximately 220 yards of worsted weight yarn (I used Superwash Worsted from elann.com, but their Wool/Bamboo would have worked nicely, too.), a long circular size 6 needle, a long circular size 7 needle, and a yarn needle for weaving ends
With smaller needle, cast on 180 stitches loosely. You don't want a tight, uncomfortable edge around the neck.
Row 1: Knit.
Row 2: Knit into front and back of each stitch. (360 stitches)
Row 3: Changing to larger needle, knit.
Row 4: Knit into front and back of each stitch. (720 stitches)
Rows 5-7: Knit. You can make the ruffle wider by adding more rows here.
Final row: Cast off loosely.
Weave in ends.
A note about the hand towels. They are knitted from knitpicks.com Cotlin, 50% linen, 50% cotton. It handles beautifully, softening as you knit. Most of my series are knit on size 5 straight needles with a fairly simple block pattern. The Valentine's towel is the exception, as the lacy pattern suited the theme. Keeping in mind where the center fold would be, I knit a section of stockinette into each towel to serve as a background for duplicate knitting motifs. You want this in the lower half of the towel so that it shows when you fold it over a towel bar. I have two more to complete this custom holiday series (I began with Halloween and Thanksgiving, and St. Patrick's Day and 4th of July will complete it.) I'll publish stitch counts and basic construction as I work on the final two.
My early morning awake time is fading fast. I think I can manage two more hours of sleep.
Peace.
Sundays frequently end early, as I'm up by 6 to start the hectic market day. I begin by loading equipment and products into the car, if I haven't completed that task the night before. Then I have a quick breakfast and get cleaned up and dressed to present a nice vendor image. After I drive downtown, I check in, get a cup of coffee, and unload my equipment. It takes about two and one-half hours to put my booth together and get all my products displayed.
Yesterday was a milestone, my first run of three consecutive market weeks. Now that I know I can do it, I have prepared for the rest of the season and the coming spring by upgrading my equipment a bit. No, I didn't hit SmartFurniture.com for a fancy display setup (think $3000). I spent a few bucks at Bed, Bath and Beyond on snap-together cubes made of metal grids, a reduced flat bedsheet and two rolling hanging clothes racks. For less than $130, I now have a nice cube system that sits on top of my table and holds items like hats and wash cloths, plenty of hanging space for scarves, baby sweaters, baby blankets and adult clothing. I was thrilled to have a more professional looking, organized store yesterday.
With a proper display system, I attract more lookers and shoppers. People were stopping in awe just to say "Did you make all of these yourself?" and I could proudly say that I designed and knitted or crocheted everything in the shop. It was much easier to show what I had and help buyers select things for themselves and for gifts. I even had a proper packaging station set up, and room to write down my credit card purchases and special orders.
One of the most fun events of yesterday's market was recruiting neighboring vendors to help me sing "Happy Birthday" to my mom. It was her 90th. I knew I would be exhausted and that call would have to do for the day. We sung with enthusiasm. No one would have special-ordered that performance. I asked my mom how it felt to be 90, and she said "I feel old." She's entitled.
Special orders have increased lately. Last week I had three from the market, and I completed the pair of extra skinny fingerless mitts, the green ruffled scarf you see below, and an entrelac organic cotton wash cloth this week. The holiday hand towels you see were knitted for another special order, and I finished Valentine's Day and blocked them both for mailing tomorrow. The little Christmas trees and heart are duplicate knit. Simple patterns like that can be free-handed, but if I have any requests I will publish the diagrams.
Speaking of patterns, here's the ruffled scarf:
The scarf is worked back and forth on circular needles. The final length is about 74 inches. Gauge is unimportant.
Materials: approximately 220 yards of worsted weight yarn (I used Superwash Worsted from elann.com, but their Wool/Bamboo would have worked nicely, too.), a long circular size 6 needle, a long circular size 7 needle, and a yarn needle for weaving ends
With smaller needle, cast on 180 stitches loosely. You don't want a tight, uncomfortable edge around the neck.
Row 1: Knit.
Row 2: Knit into front and back of each stitch. (360 stitches)
Row 3: Changing to larger needle, knit.
Row 4: Knit into front and back of each stitch. (720 stitches)
Rows 5-7: Knit. You can make the ruffle wider by adding more rows here.
Final row: Cast off loosely.
Weave in ends.
A note about the hand towels. They are knitted from knitpicks.com Cotlin, 50% linen, 50% cotton. It handles beautifully, softening as you knit. Most of my series are knit on size 5 straight needles with a fairly simple block pattern. The Valentine's towel is the exception, as the lacy pattern suited the theme. Keeping in mind where the center fold would be, I knit a section of stockinette into each towel to serve as a background for duplicate knitting motifs. You want this in the lower half of the towel so that it shows when you fold it over a towel bar. I have two more to complete this custom holiday series (I began with Halloween and Thanksgiving, and St. Patrick's Day and 4th of July will complete it.) I'll publish stitch counts and basic construction as I work on the final two.
My early morning awake time is fading fast. I think I can manage two more hours of sleep.
Peace.
Monday, November 2, 2009
Am I Moved YET?
Holy cow. No, that's not it. HOLY COW! That's better. I've had three reschedules from my mover, followed by an incomplete removal of the last few items from my house. The trunk of my car (a rapidly aging Volvo sedan) contains ten cans of paint+kitty litter (don't ask). There is only a two-foot wide path through my new garage from the door to the driveway. My piano is in the garage. I've checked here on HGTV but there is no "how to" that will fix this.
On the bright side, this is the end. The End. Closing is this week. I will take a break before closing on the new house, which I have leased til now. I have no deadline for hanging pictures, unpacking winter clothes, getting the remainder of the books onto bookshelves. There is only what my sensibilities will tolerate, and I am feeling pretty darn flexible. I won't cry if I can't get Ringgold and Joysmith and Ali on the walls today. No, I am not hallucinating. I have a Mohammad Ali limited edition print from his art period. He hadn't moved much past keeping it in the lines, but the idea that he attempted it charms me.
Oops, relaxed too soon. I went back to the new house this afternoon to deal with a pile of stuff shoved in the attic by unnamed young people staying in the guest room. It includes enough hangars for the Russian army and some used sheets which were "stored" there instead of washed. 'Nuff said. There is nothing in Spock about this.
So...I'm on a first name basis with the receiver at my favorite center to donate unwanteds. He saw me coming today, waved and almost smiled. An almost smile is the max for him. When you see him collecting things from your car one bag at a time, you know that he doesn't waste any muscle movement. We're starting to get very real about the things that can go. I had a carload today and I'm sure I'll have another tomorrow. I am all about knowing that the memory will be with me always. I don't need any more physical reminders of anything.
Mary Z reminded me the other day about using professional shredders. They'll be here tomorrow. I see 10 more cubic feet of space becoming available!
I met my buyers today. That ordinarily doesn't happen until closing, but I've let them out of motel hell with their young baby to live in the house a few days beforehand. I think the baby likes me. He was all red hair and smiles. Me and mom talked about knitting.
I did a good bit of knitting in the drive-through pharmacy line just now. I've never seen the lines so long, wondered if it is an H1N1 epidemic thing. Glad I started a hat from my pink Therapi (the yarn with merino, silk and jadeite fiber). I managed to do all the increases that will go from the head band to the start of the flare for the kind of beret shape (knit 1, yarn over, knit into the front and back) and repeat all the way around. Turn on the car, move one spot, pick up your needles.
Keeping up the surviving. Peace.
On the bright side, this is the end. The End. Closing is this week. I will take a break before closing on the new house, which I have leased til now. I have no deadline for hanging pictures, unpacking winter clothes, getting the remainder of the books onto bookshelves. There is only what my sensibilities will tolerate, and I am feeling pretty darn flexible. I won't cry if I can't get Ringgold and Joysmith and Ali on the walls today. No, I am not hallucinating. I have a Mohammad Ali limited edition print from his art period. He hadn't moved much past keeping it in the lines, but the idea that he attempted it charms me.
Oops, relaxed too soon. I went back to the new house this afternoon to deal with a pile of stuff shoved in the attic by unnamed young people staying in the guest room. It includes enough hangars for the Russian army and some used sheets which were "stored" there instead of washed. 'Nuff said. There is nothing in Spock about this.
So...I'm on a first name basis with the receiver at my favorite center to donate unwanteds. He saw me coming today, waved and almost smiled. An almost smile is the max for him. When you see him collecting things from your car one bag at a time, you know that he doesn't waste any muscle movement. We're starting to get very real about the things that can go. I had a carload today and I'm sure I'll have another tomorrow. I am all about knowing that the memory will be with me always. I don't need any more physical reminders of anything.
Mary Z reminded me the other day about using professional shredders. They'll be here tomorrow. I see 10 more cubic feet of space becoming available!
I met my buyers today. That ordinarily doesn't happen until closing, but I've let them out of motel hell with their young baby to live in the house a few days beforehand. I think the baby likes me. He was all red hair and smiles. Me and mom talked about knitting.
I did a good bit of knitting in the drive-through pharmacy line just now. I've never seen the lines so long, wondered if it is an H1N1 epidemic thing. Glad I started a hat from my pink Therapi (the yarn with merino, silk and jadeite fiber). I managed to do all the increases that will go from the head band to the start of the flare for the kind of beret shape (knit 1, yarn over, knit into the front and back) and repeat all the way around. Turn on the car, move one spot, pick up your needles.
Keeping up the surviving. Peace.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Prednisone Blindside Response
I have been perplexed. The past few weeks I've noticed increased appetite and disrupted sleep. Increased appetite is an understatement. I've been ravenous. My usual lay down, close eyes, and fall asleep routine has been failing, and I awaken in the early morning, hungry and unable to return to sleep. I blamed it all on the extraordinary circumstances of my packing and moving, the excitement of house sale and new house. Tonight I it all came to a head. I was upset at my hungriness and the way it prevented sleep, and beginning to despair of having any improved health from my increased activity if all it meant was more appetite. As I bit into my low-cal, high-fiber, whole grain English muffin it hit me - my steroid dose is up. This is a sneaky steroid increase. I'm not taking a higher dose of prednisone. My oral dose remains at its baseline, not enough to cause these symptoms. However, almost three weeks ago I had a joint injection - a large dose of steroid (corticosteroid) medication was inserted directly into my left knee joint to treat an acute flare. We do this kind of treatment to put the medication directly where it is needed and to minimize the systemic affect of the meds, but a goodly portion is still absorbed into the bloodstream and disseminated to the rest of the body.
I am greatly relieved to realize the source of my symptoms. I've had such an increase in activity that I'm hoping to see better overall health. I thought it was being thwarted by my need to eat more, but now I know it is temporary. Moreover, having insomnia and being on an irregular schedule has never been good for my lupus. Keeping the wolf under control is much easier with adequate rest and a predictable meal, sleep and medication schedule. I should be close to getting over the steroid symptoms. One way I've been fighting them is to feed my appetite with huge amounts of plain steamed vegetables. My Publix had a $1 sale on microwavable vegetable packs, found in the produce section. I scooped up a pile and I indulge in them liberally. I also invested in several cases of my favorite sparkling water (yes, at $4 for 12 cans, it's an investment), and I fill up on bubbles.
A disease that has affected you for 17 years isn't going to be controlled or conquered overnight. I'm happy for every little insight that helps me manage better, even if it comes at 3 a.m.
Peace.
I am greatly relieved to realize the source of my symptoms. I've had such an increase in activity that I'm hoping to see better overall health. I thought it was being thwarted by my need to eat more, but now I know it is temporary. Moreover, having insomnia and being on an irregular schedule has never been good for my lupus. Keeping the wolf under control is much easier with adequate rest and a predictable meal, sleep and medication schedule. I should be close to getting over the steroid symptoms. One way I've been fighting them is to feed my appetite with huge amounts of plain steamed vegetables. My Publix had a $1 sale on microwavable vegetable packs, found in the produce section. I scooped up a pile and I indulge in them liberally. I also invested in several cases of my favorite sparkling water (yes, at $4 for 12 cans, it's an investment), and I fill up on bubbles.
A disease that has affected you for 17 years isn't going to be controlled or conquered overnight. I'm happy for every little insight that helps me manage better, even if it comes at 3 a.m.
Peace.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
Getting Buff
I am on the craziest exercise program. I didn't sign up, it just caught up with me. It's free, and a good thing, as I'd never pay for such torture. It goes something like this:
Hmm. Today I'm going to sort all the stuff in my daughter's old room. I know she already sorted it, but I'm sure her heart and her short attention span got in the way. Okay, here we go, up 14 stairs. Oh my God, there are forty-seven or sixty items left here. That's okay, we've nothing but time. Closing is a week away, after all. Just sit down and calmly go through them. Oops, need a couple of boxes. Get up, fetch boxes, come back. And a trash bag. Get up, fetch trash bag, come back. Lord, what is in this tote? Lead? Lift it up, empty the lead ten pounds at a time. Oh yeah, this is the rock collection from kindergarten. I think it can go now. Repeat forty-seven times. Now let's check the closet. I'm sure she emptied...oops, two prom dresses, hiking boots (complete with dried mud), a plastic drawer set with long-forgotten junior high school clothes, a bin of books from-oh yeah, that pharm tech program. Let's just haul everything out of this closet. Bend down three more times for tiny stuffed animals. They are falling out of every crack. Where is the donation box? Over there-that's okay, we'll get some jump shots in. Donate. Donate. Donate. Wonder if they care if I put clothes in with a cow-head vaporizer? Now just lift the boxes and separate donate from deliver to house. All those trash bags of donated linens can be tossed over the rail down into the living room. Heave-smack! Heave-smack! Heave-smack! Whew, the fun part.
Next, I'll finish the guest room...
I am not joking. This particular exercise regimen is building muscle where prednisone had stolen it. Some of the challenges are unexpected. One of my helpers brought his 66 year-old mother and 8 year-old son. Son is a whirlwind, and I move more just keeping up with his antics and making sure he doesn't unpack all the "interesting" stuff that I packed. If I stay one step ahead, I can keep him busy carrying things up and down stairs. The mother is a smoker and not in great health, but she takes the stairs faster than me and insists on making three trips up and down and I... will... not... be... outdone.
I can do things now that I wouldn't attempt six months ago. It is hard training this way, but the results are evident. When this little adventure ends (you know, after I unpack the pod and get all the yarn on shelves and hang all my art) I'll be ready to head to the rec center and lift some weights.
Peace.
Hmm. Today I'm going to sort all the stuff in my daughter's old room. I know she already sorted it, but I'm sure her heart and her short attention span got in the way. Okay, here we go, up 14 stairs. Oh my God, there are forty-seven or sixty items left here. That's okay, we've nothing but time. Closing is a week away, after all. Just sit down and calmly go through them. Oops, need a couple of boxes. Get up, fetch boxes, come back. And a trash bag. Get up, fetch trash bag, come back. Lord, what is in this tote? Lead? Lift it up, empty the lead ten pounds at a time. Oh yeah, this is the rock collection from kindergarten. I think it can go now. Repeat forty-seven times. Now let's check the closet. I'm sure she emptied...oops, two prom dresses, hiking boots (complete with dried mud), a plastic drawer set with long-forgotten junior high school clothes, a bin of books from-oh yeah, that pharm tech program. Let's just haul everything out of this closet. Bend down three more times for tiny stuffed animals. They are falling out of every crack. Where is the donation box? Over there-that's okay, we'll get some jump shots in. Donate. Donate. Donate. Wonder if they care if I put clothes in with a cow-head vaporizer? Now just lift the boxes and separate donate from deliver to house. All those trash bags of donated linens can be tossed over the rail down into the living room. Heave-smack! Heave-smack! Heave-smack! Whew, the fun part.
Next, I'll finish the guest room...
I am not joking. This particular exercise regimen is building muscle where prednisone had stolen it. Some of the challenges are unexpected. One of my helpers brought his 66 year-old mother and 8 year-old son. Son is a whirlwind, and I move more just keeping up with his antics and making sure he doesn't unpack all the "interesting" stuff that I packed. If I stay one step ahead, I can keep him busy carrying things up and down stairs. The mother is a smoker and not in great health, but she takes the stairs faster than me and insists on making three trips up and down and I... will... not... be... outdone.
I can do things now that I wouldn't attempt six months ago. It is hard training this way, but the results are evident. When this little adventure ends (you know, after I unpack the pod and get all the yarn on shelves and hang all my art) I'll be ready to head to the rec center and lift some weights.
Peace.
Monday, October 26, 2009
Counting Down to Closing
One week 'til closing, and the sale of my house is all consuming. I held my breath for inspection and came away with a short list of repairs and investigations to be performed in this brief final period. I had to miss knitting group to meet a handyman-a definite indication of the urgency of these activities.
The chaos of moving holds some treachery for me. After a few near-misses, I tripped over a box and fell, doing a slow, continually sliding, grabbing, descent against the side of my recliner, and ending with a number of bumps and bruises and what feels like a broken toe. This morning I am feeling the full effect, limping and learning which limb to favor for which activity. Adults are not made for falling. We think too much on the way down, rather than letting the natural instincts take over. Moreover, I was grabbing at a recliner that was slowly changing position as I went down. My chances would have been better with the floor.
Ah well, if this is the worst result of my real estate adventures, I think I've come off well. I finished the night reading aloud to my daughter from a favorite Agatha Christie. She had a migraine and was bored to tears with lying still in the dark. Why Didn't They Ask Evans always has her imagining herself to be Frankie, the sassy, adventurous daughter of an earl. My daughter's expressions and gestures had me laughing, contributing to my hoarseness from reading 11 chapters.
I'm in hand towel heaven with my current custom project. I've become very comfortable with Cotlin, Knitpicks.com's cotton 50%/linen 50% DK blend. It softens very readily with handling, and knits quite nicely for me on size 5 needles. I've been knitting hand towels that are holiday designs. Christmas is ready for blocking, and I'll cast on Valentine's Day shortly and figure out how many hearts to throw across it.
I took on an experimental crochet project last weekend without the desired result. Dayna hoped for an interestingly patterned scarf from Spud & Chloe's Aztec Scarf pattern. She wanted a soft, flowing, indoor version, and we attempted it with Cotlin, but it didn't fill in the pattern enough. I may try again with another yarn, but she's already on to the next project. She had admired the bands of V-stitch on my crocheted baby blankets, and now that is the basis for a long crocheted scarf. V-stitch goes quickly and loooks lacy and beautiful. An easy teach is found here: http://www.woolcrafting.com/v-stitch-crochet-pattern.html. I showed my "client" both the half-double and double V-stitch, and she preferred double, so my work is more open than the example photo shown at the link.
I've relisted all my hats and scarves, as the season is here. No sales at the store yet, and I've not been able to free up time and energy for the market. Maybe next week. I've no doubt that the heavy work of moving will make me much more fit for market days. Swinging those metal grids in and out of the car, setting up tables, hauling bags of product-none of those seems difficult now that I've dismantled and sorted the old house.
I finished all my cardiac testing last week. A summer of cooking less (no food odors in the house you're showing, please) and eating out more left me with an elevated cholesterol and LDL. I'm on medication now, but hopefully regaining my better habits will render that unnecessary. None of the other test results have been discussed yet.
Okay, first neighbor complaint. The folks directly behind me have a boat. Hubby insists on weatherizing it himself. He treated us to a good spell of deafening noise yesterday and I went out and hollered over the fence to see if anyone was dying. We had a congenial meeting and he explained his mission, and that he will save $200 by doing it himself. Hah! It is 8:45 a.m. and he has just started again, revving his boat motor and drowning out my thoughts. Hmmph. That ends my blogging for today.
Peace.
The chaos of moving holds some treachery for me. After a few near-misses, I tripped over a box and fell, doing a slow, continually sliding, grabbing, descent against the side of my recliner, and ending with a number of bumps and bruises and what feels like a broken toe. This morning I am feeling the full effect, limping and learning which limb to favor for which activity. Adults are not made for falling. We think too much on the way down, rather than letting the natural instincts take over. Moreover, I was grabbing at a recliner that was slowly changing position as I went down. My chances would have been better with the floor.
Ah well, if this is the worst result of my real estate adventures, I think I've come off well. I finished the night reading aloud to my daughter from a favorite Agatha Christie. She had a migraine and was bored to tears with lying still in the dark. Why Didn't They Ask Evans always has her imagining herself to be Frankie, the sassy, adventurous daughter of an earl. My daughter's expressions and gestures had me laughing, contributing to my hoarseness from reading 11 chapters.
I'm in hand towel heaven with my current custom project. I've become very comfortable with Cotlin, Knitpicks.com's cotton 50%/linen 50% DK blend. It softens very readily with handling, and knits quite nicely for me on size 5 needles. I've been knitting hand towels that are holiday designs. Christmas is ready for blocking, and I'll cast on Valentine's Day shortly and figure out how many hearts to throw across it.
I took on an experimental crochet project last weekend without the desired result. Dayna hoped for an interestingly patterned scarf from Spud & Chloe's Aztec Scarf pattern. She wanted a soft, flowing, indoor version, and we attempted it with Cotlin, but it didn't fill in the pattern enough. I may try again with another yarn, but she's already on to the next project. She had admired the bands of V-stitch on my crocheted baby blankets, and now that is the basis for a long crocheted scarf. V-stitch goes quickly and loooks lacy and beautiful. An easy teach is found here: http://www.woolcrafting.com/v-stitch-crochet-pattern.html. I showed my "client" both the half-double and double V-stitch, and she preferred double, so my work is more open than the example photo shown at the link.
I've relisted all my hats and scarves, as the season is here. No sales at the store yet, and I've not been able to free up time and energy for the market. Maybe next week. I've no doubt that the heavy work of moving will make me much more fit for market days. Swinging those metal grids in and out of the car, setting up tables, hauling bags of product-none of those seems difficult now that I've dismantled and sorted the old house.
I finished all my cardiac testing last week. A summer of cooking less (no food odors in the house you're showing, please) and eating out more left me with an elevated cholesterol and LDL. I'm on medication now, but hopefully regaining my better habits will render that unnecessary. None of the other test results have been discussed yet.
Okay, first neighbor complaint. The folks directly behind me have a boat. Hubby insists on weatherizing it himself. He treated us to a good spell of deafening noise yesterday and I went out and hollered over the fence to see if anyone was dying. We had a congenial meeting and he explained his mission, and that he will save $200 by doing it himself. Hah! It is 8:45 a.m. and he has just started again, revving his boat motor and drowning out my thoughts. Hmmph. That ends my blogging for today.
Peace.
Sunday, October 18, 2009
Nostalgicus Interruptus
It's Sunday evening and I'm suffering from acute nostalgicus interruptus. My undergrad alma mater, Vanderbilt, had homecoming this weekend and I was all signed up to attend. I was especially excited that there would be events for the 25th anniversary of the founding of the Association of Vanderbilt Black Alumni. There were many friends that I have thought about recently that I hoped to see. Alas, it was a typical lupus week. Chest tightness and palpitations led me to my doc and to an appointment with a heart specialist. Both thought my symptoms warranted a work-up (battery of tests to determine if a problem exists). I spent 24 hours wearing a heart monitor and I'm scheduled for a fancy nuclear medicine stress test in two days. Between the symptoms and tests and my already pressing need to sort out the old house, I had to stay home. Pooey.
Ironically, I seem to have already given myself the stress test. For the past three days I've worked hard at sorting, packing, and delivering stuff. I've hauled huge bags of trash, carried boxes filled with old office records, helped move a dresser from my daughter's room to the garage, spent hours feeding paper into the shredder... I didn't plan it this way, I just felt energetic and recovered from my recent Rituxan therapy, and so I worked when and how I felt like it. Needless to say, I've not had a single twinge in my chest. Not one. The cute little bottle of tiny nitroglycerin tabs that the cardiologist prescribed remains sealed.
None of the above means that I've had a bad weekend. I'm sitting on my bed, feet up, listening to Patti LaBelle's powerful voice. This evening I combed through YouTube to hear a variety of selections from Al Green, the Isley Brothers, and Patti. It was still nostalgia time, whether I made it to Nashville or not. I was focused on the music that I was hearing when I was in college. It featured strong voices, defined rhythms, and words that made sense. Lots of it talked about love and peace and the "good stuff" in the world. I was first married after my sophomore year at Vanderbilt, a whole 19 years old. My husband was in his mid-20s and had already mastered the art of using music for seduction, but our listening choices also extended to revolutionary soul (Gil Scott Heron, Stevie Wonder), jazz (Pharoah Saunders, Jazz Crusaders) and more instrumental rock (Santana).
Hmm, that could be a formula for a good Sunday evening. Stop all work, put your feet up, and focus on music that you love. I learned about formulas from my daughter. When she was four she came home from school and said, "This is how you make friends at my school. You stand by somebody in line and you hold their hand." The formulas were simple and straight-forward in those days, but she has continued to enlighten me on occasion, summing up her way of doing something and presenting it like a gift.
The association of men in my [past] life with music is a strong one. I wonder sometimes why many of the women I've been close to have not had strong musical preferences and affiliations. In the string of important men (members of that group shift from time to time) there is a very particular classical music fan and accomplished violinist, a rock enthusiast (but no "California rock" thank you), a jazz artist who played with a high school band as a kindergartener, a talented dancer who stayed current on the latest rap and contemporary music, and one man with a lovely voice and multiple instruments who used it all on sacred music. What a range. And of course, that's not the whole of the group.
Patti LaBelle is in my face singing "Love Never Dies", a tribute to one of her sisters who succumbed to cancer at an early age. This moment if feels like a commentary on the ability to focus on the positives in my past. Patti LaBelle is always in your face when she sings. Whether you love her or hate her, you cannot ignore her when she is singing. One of my favorite New Year's celebrations was Luther Vandross and Patti in concert at the Fox Theater in Atlanta.
Hearing live music is still one of my favorite outings, and it has been far too scarce in recent years. I was every bit of grateful this week when I was able to attend a concert at a local church. The music was modern classical, a pianist, a classical guitarist and a violinist. Fab. Makes it worth taking your meds and getting out of your house. Once I had a list of performers that I wanted to hear. I envisioned traveling to catch their concerts, using my vacations and taking my daughter. Several years ago, Dayna and I saw Jill Scott at Ryman Auditorium with her informing me that she was the youngest attendee. I could have repeated that scenario a million times, following all my favorites, but I was too ill for that kind of plan. I see myself now at the point where I can make my list.
Good lord, am I still writing? Music loosens my fingers and lubricates that connection between my thoughts and my hands. I'll have to continue in my head.
Peace.
Ironically, I seem to have already given myself the stress test. For the past three days I've worked hard at sorting, packing, and delivering stuff. I've hauled huge bags of trash, carried boxes filled with old office records, helped move a dresser from my daughter's room to the garage, spent hours feeding paper into the shredder... I didn't plan it this way, I just felt energetic and recovered from my recent Rituxan therapy, and so I worked when and how I felt like it. Needless to say, I've not had a single twinge in my chest. Not one. The cute little bottle of tiny nitroglycerin tabs that the cardiologist prescribed remains sealed.
None of the above means that I've had a bad weekend. I'm sitting on my bed, feet up, listening to Patti LaBelle's powerful voice. This evening I combed through YouTube to hear a variety of selections from Al Green, the Isley Brothers, and Patti. It was still nostalgia time, whether I made it to Nashville or not. I was focused on the music that I was hearing when I was in college. It featured strong voices, defined rhythms, and words that made sense. Lots of it talked about love and peace and the "good stuff" in the world. I was first married after my sophomore year at Vanderbilt, a whole 19 years old. My husband was in his mid-20s and had already mastered the art of using music for seduction, but our listening choices also extended to revolutionary soul (Gil Scott Heron, Stevie Wonder), jazz (Pharoah Saunders, Jazz Crusaders) and more instrumental rock (Santana).
Hmm, that could be a formula for a good Sunday evening. Stop all work, put your feet up, and focus on music that you love. I learned about formulas from my daughter. When she was four she came home from school and said, "This is how you make friends at my school. You stand by somebody in line and you hold their hand." The formulas were simple and straight-forward in those days, but she has continued to enlighten me on occasion, summing up her way of doing something and presenting it like a gift.
The association of men in my [past] life with music is a strong one. I wonder sometimes why many of the women I've been close to have not had strong musical preferences and affiliations. In the string of important men (members of that group shift from time to time) there is a very particular classical music fan and accomplished violinist, a rock enthusiast (but no "California rock" thank you), a jazz artist who played with a high school band as a kindergartener, a talented dancer who stayed current on the latest rap and contemporary music, and one man with a lovely voice and multiple instruments who used it all on sacred music. What a range. And of course, that's not the whole of the group.
Patti LaBelle is in my face singing "Love Never Dies", a tribute to one of her sisters who succumbed to cancer at an early age. This moment if feels like a commentary on the ability to focus on the positives in my past. Patti LaBelle is always in your face when she sings. Whether you love her or hate her, you cannot ignore her when she is singing. One of my favorite New Year's celebrations was Luther Vandross and Patti in concert at the Fox Theater in Atlanta.
Hearing live music is still one of my favorite outings, and it has been far too scarce in recent years. I was every bit of grateful this week when I was able to attend a concert at a local church. The music was modern classical, a pianist, a classical guitarist and a violinist. Fab. Makes it worth taking your meds and getting out of your house. Once I had a list of performers that I wanted to hear. I envisioned traveling to catch their concerts, using my vacations and taking my daughter. Several years ago, Dayna and I saw Jill Scott at Ryman Auditorium with her informing me that she was the youngest attendee. I could have repeated that scenario a million times, following all my favorites, but I was too ill for that kind of plan. I see myself now at the point where I can make my list.
Good lord, am I still writing? Music loosens my fingers and lubricates that connection between my thoughts and my hands. I'll have to continue in my head.
Peace.
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