a simple yarn

In other words, I’m looking for advice.

It is easy for me to get into a rut. I read my nice little group of blogs and truly enjoy every word. I know there are zillions of other nice blogs to read but I have to confess, I get overwhelmed in the search for ‘em.

So, what would you suggest? Would you share your top three favourite blogs for good summer reading?

Eee gads, I’m turning into a typical Euro-tourist!

People periodically ask me what I miss from my life in the US. Apart from family and friends, I have to confess that the list is relatively short.

However,

As I do the final suitcase packing I realize that a wee bit of reverse cultural shock may occur. How do I know this? I am packing home comforts-Irish home comforts, that is. I am making room in my suitcase for

Perhaps it’s not a case of being better (except the tea bags, of course), but rather what I’ve become accustomed to. And so these comforts from home bring a measure of tranquility in the upheaval of travel and reassurance in the trauma of having to choose between 27 brands of mayonnaise.

For you who might loathe this handy little stitch…

After-Publishing-Postscript: Thought I’d better add the photo of the right-side view following the tutorial.

Disclaimer No. 1: This post does not intend to dismiss Kitchener stitch instructions excerpted from any previously published knitting books.

Disclaimer No. 2: As original thought is rare indeed, I am probably repeating instructions which have been posted/published/taught/expounded upon somewhere on the internet. If so, this is yet another version of the same old thing and my eureka moment was superfluous.

Now, the basic instruction book said this-
Place stitches to be joined on two separate needles.
Hold the needles parallel with points facing to the right and so that the wrong sides of knitting are facing each other.

Repeat Steps 3 and 4 until no stitches remain on needles.

Ack! As closely as I tried to follow the instructions and keep straight all the knitwise, purlwise, stitches left on the needle and stitches taken off the needle, I just couldn’t do it. My seaming was worse than wonky…more like rubbish.

Having a new stubbier mobile dictated that I shorten the mobile sock I had knit for the original phone. I unpicked my first shabby attempt at the Kitchener and found in de-constructing, I began to understand the construction of it. I just had to look at it inside out. So, here’s my (hopefully) simplified thinking on Kitchener.

Disclaimer No. 3: Didn’t have time to put in lovely little labels on the photos, but I think you’ll get the gist of it…

Turn the whole thing wrong side out, line up your loops for the seam. Keep whatever amount of loops remaining on your needles as you feel comfortable with, take threaded needle and…

1. Go up through bottom loop. I’ll call it Loop A.
2. Go up through a new loop, called Loop B.

3. Go across to next new loop in the sequence, Loop C.
4. Go back through Loop A.

5. Go through next new loop in the sequence, Loop D.
6. Go back through Loop C.

From here on, it’s a matter of going through the next new loop and then back to the previous loop, repeating that sequence. Basically, each loop should have had the needle go through it 2 times.

Finish off all the loose loops, secure and weave in ends. And that’s it…a nice smooth seam of stitches.

So, I’m wondering…was this little discovery the ultimate-greater-cosmic-purpose behind my mobile going though the wash?

No, I think not. But certainly is a great by-product of it!

…is my new best friend.

Warning: Too many words devoted to a mobile phone to follow, but be patient, fibre-related content in the second half.

Okay, it’s silly to mourn the loss of an inanimate object. I know that. And while I didn’t shed any tears over the recently washed-and-spun mobile, I am staggering from the price to replace it…€249. Ouch! Seems I got my little beauty for a mere €39 as a once-in-a-lifetime-deal. Sigh.

But, the biggest relief in my ordeal was that the SIM card, keeper-of-all-my-contact-numbers, was unscathed. AND, the memory card, housing my tunes and games, was undamaged too. When all is said and done then, I have the essence of my previous phone housed in a new body. Thank you Mr-Science-Geek-Whoever-You-Are for your contribution to society!

Have to say the new addition doesn’t initially carry the same appeal as my previous slim-line, but to be truthful, it has most of the same features and a few additional ones I’m finding to be quite handy. The Kiddies love it. ‘Looks like an iPod,’ said 7-Year-Old-Son-Alex. ‘Blue’s my favourite colour!’ sighed 10-Year-Old-Daughter-Kate. A happy ending to this story.

What is a happier ending is the unanticipated mastery of the Kitchener stitch. Okay, I use the term ‘mastery’ in its loosest sense, you understand! While I know most knitters will have already figured out this elusive stitch, for me it came about rather recently and quite unexpectedly.

During those happy, carefree days of the new and loved mobile phone, I decided to knit a cute sock. After a few unsatisfactory attempts, success came with a magic-loop-in-the-round version. Naturally, to close the seam at the bottom, I needed the Kitchener stitch. Sounds rather complicated, but amazingly, it was when I turned the darn thing wrong side out that the Kitchener stitch finally made sense to me!

Part Two-Kitchener Stitch From A New Angle to follow in the next post, gotta snap some how-to pics first!

‘Momma says stupid is as stupid does.’ Young Forrest Gump

Ever done something stupid? Stupid in the ‘I-wasn’t-thinking-but-surely-I’m-smarter-than-this’ sort of way? Well, I would love to hear from you to ease my own woes. Feel free to share…

Me? I left my brand new mobile phone in my trouser pocket and yes, it went through the entire wash, rinse and spin cycle….and no, it’s not water-resistant. Ack! (Smacks forehead repeatedly)

I also realise and increasingly appreciate the fact that you all are eternally patient in reading such non-fibre blather in this space during our seemingly never-ending transition.

Have a great weekend!

Kind of hard to say good-bye when we haven’t left yet.

Yep, nicked that statement from a ‘Frasier’ re-run. But it sums up things quite well, I’d say. It feels as though we’ve been ’saying good-bye’ for months now. And no, we’re not even in the US yet. Perpetual in-between-ness.

BUT, good things are happening-

Found a free wi-fi site at a hotel near our house. Free parking for the first 2 hours. So, I can stay connected during this last phase of transitional upheaval. Yippee! Even a decent cup of cappuccino. Can’t ask for more than that.

Doing a wee bit of simple knitting. Socks, of a sort. Sock for the mobile. Magic loop. No cables though. Even had a go at practicing the Kitchener stitch in grafting the bottom seam. A bit wonky, truth be told, but good practice and I’ll get the hang of it at some point…and probably have an entire wardrobe of mobile sock-like-covers!

AND, a bit of serendipity at the hotel car park…
Paying my parking fees at the pay station. Did a lot of interneting. 4 euro. Coins only. Drats, only have a fiver. A gaggle of business men come out the door. ‘Got change for a five euro note?’ I ask, unaware of my ever-present American accent. One older Irish gent gallantly pulls out the coins, puts them into the pay station and says in his lilting voice, ‘Just want you to go away with a good impression of Ireland.’ Hated to tell him that I live here. But hey, it is a good impression everytime someone pays for my parking!

And hoping that you experience a bit of serendipity today…

…for momentary technical difficulties…

Well, I guess something in this long transition was bound to go against our plans. Saw Husband-Will off to the airport this morning. Kiddies are on their end-of-year school trip. Lashing rain. Go to check email. Nothing. No internet connection. Grrrr….

‘Ah well,’ I say philosophically, ‘it’ll give me much needed time to finish the last bits and pieces of trip preparation.’

And so, blog posting and blog reading must be postponed until I can again nick some wifi somewhere or find myself in the city centre drinking coffee in a wifi hotspot. The pace of communication will be again on a ’snail mail’ pace. Not such a bad thing as the lazy, hazy days of summer come along.

Have a great couple of weeks and I’ll be back in touch when we touch down in the land of abundant broadband.

PS—Locally, if you need to reach me, feel free to phone or text…

“Sarah, I found what’s missing in your picture! The colours of the sea…blue and grey and green…” Caleb, excerpted from Sarah, Plain and Tall by Patricia MacLachlan

I am plain and I am tall and I am using the colours of the sea.

Well, after the felted beret debacle, Sunday was time to take a day trip, celebrate the lovely summer weather and take the Kiddies to the sea. A wide expanse of sand and sea do wonders for clearing a foggy brain. While the the younger set made castles and tunnels, I cast on for a quick bit of reassuring comfort knitting. Doing a quick mobile cover…I may even felt it…from the leftover Mineshaft Lorna’s Laces.

Finally….photographic evidence.

This must be an alien space craft…

…cuz it sure ain’t a felted beret.

I can’t explain what happened. Temporal rift in the time-space continuum?

It all began quite well. Lovely teal and sage green. Added a snazzy little yarn I picked up in London a couple of years ago. Finished the knitting this morning. Popped it in the washer as I have done so many times before. I’m not a felting novice, mind you.

It sort of felted after two washings, meaning that many of the stitches disappeared (except for the ones where I doubled the yarn for which there was a very good reason but too long of an explanation to insert here and not really in the mood for a ‘Warning: Technical Knitting Diversion Ahead’ as it’s Sunday evening…I’m sure you’ll understand) and the overall size shrank…but it is still WAY too big. Now, unless you happen to know an alternate life form with a giant head that desperately needs a winter hat in Martian-green (which clashes with my header photo) and would like this for Christmas, I am at a loss for what to do with it.

I’m willing to take suggestions…

A wonky tea cosy perhaps?

We’ve all had ‘em…and would like to forget ‘em.

Today was the day to go to Immigration. We’ve gone through this process every year for the past five years. We only needed to upgrade my stamp from a Glorified-Tourist to a Dependent-Of-A-Work-Permit-Holder. Sounds more official, don’t ya think? So, knowing the system would seemingly make it a bit easier…right?

Nope.

The day goes something like this…(get comfy, grab a coffee, it’s a saga…I’ll try to be brief)

Drop kids at school at 9 o’clock. Bus coming as I approach bus stop. Good omen.

Walk into Immigration Bureau. Stand in queue to show paperwork to guy behind window so that I can get a ticket with a number and wait in another queue. Queue line starts to move. I get number. I am No. 90. They are calling No. 50. I pull out my knitting. In less than 2 hours from walking in, I ring Husband-Will who is around corner having coffee with a friend. ‘We’re at No. 80,’ I say, ‘come on over.’ Gotta have Husband-Will-Holder-Of-Work-Permit to be there. Get to window. It’s only 11.30, not too bad, I think to myself.

Warning: Knitting Diversion Ahead
For the observant, you will notice that these are not spotty felted clogs I’m working on. Found a barely begun cast-on work that I thought I better finish up first. What you see is the beginning of a felted beret, part of the Festival of Summer Christmas Knitting.

I couldn’t help but notice that my row counter was moving at twice, nay five times the speed, of the queue counter. Hmmm…..

Hand all my paperwork to lad who looks to be about 12. It must be casual Friday because all the young-male-workers-who-also-look-to-be-about-12 have their faded jeans and mall-wear-short-sleeved-shirts on. My lad has black leather wristbands and a spike through his lip. He’s not smiling. It’s Friday after all and the place is filled with foreigners, like me.

‘Right,’ he says, ‘I need your marriage certificate.’
‘Wha’?’ say I.
‘You need a marriage cert,’ he says plainly, wondering if English is my first language.
‘Crap,’ I say to myself. Aloud I say, ‘I don’t have it here, but have got it at home.’
‘I’ll be here til 4pm. You don’t need to queue again.’ Quite decent of him, although frankly it looked like it pained him to be humane about it.

Checking my watch to see it going on noon and then realise that my marriage certificate is not at home, but 30 miles away in safe keeping at the Lodge in the Dublin Mountains. Arg! Ring Lucy-Of-The-Lodge to see if anyone is home. ‘Sure,’ they say, ’someone will be here.’

Take the bus to the car. Take the car to the motorway. It’s Friday. Traffic is snarled. Construction. Tick tock.

Finally make it to the mountains. One o’clock. No one is home. Door is open. Dogs are running around. No humans to be found. Imagining myself in a horror flick where someone is sure to jump out from behind the door, I timidly creep into the house, ‘yoo-hoo-ing’ as I go. Nope. Nobody there. Our documents are in the study, I know. So, feeling like a right proper burglar, I walk quickly and quietly to the study. Can’t find our portfolio of documents. Rats. What am I going to do? Waiting. Waiting. Nobody comes. Have another look around. Aha! Sitting under a binder, I see the corner of our folder. Right, time to fly.

As I head back toward the city centre I then realise that I am now heading into heavy traffic and I have no idea where to park. Unfamiliar one-way streets. Anxiety level increases exponentially. Finally get to the quays along the river. I know where I am, now if I can only find a parking spot. Dash into the first one I find. Whew! Put enough money in the machine for one hour. That should do it. I don’t need to queue again. Stick the ticket on the dash and off I go.

Have a few blocks to walk. Could have parked closer, but that’s always a gamble. A bird in the hand… Besides, the little bit of walking will help me blow off some of the accumulated anxiety. I go to Window 12 where ‘Spike’ was working. Empty chair. ‘Where’d he go?’ I ask a fellow-adolescent-co-worker. ‘He’s on break,’ is the non-smiling reply. ‘He’ll be back in 30 minutes.’ Cripes! Wasting precious parking time. Ah well, nothing for it. So I sit and wait.

At 2.30 on the dot, I hover around Window 12, waiting for Spike to return. Five or ten minutes later he appears, still not smiling. Don’t quite blame him at this point. I’m not smiling either.

Finally get through the necessary paperwork and I await my new green card. I’ve got about 15-20 minutes left on the meter. ‘How long do you think it will take for the cards to be printed?’ I ask, in a hope-it-sounds-convincing pleasant-and-conversational tone. ‘Oh about 15 minutes or so.’ is the reply.

Decision. Do I risk it or do I use the time to walk back and feed the meter?

After today, I decide to err on the side of caution and add more money. Clink, clink. In goes change for another hour. I go to put the ticket in my car. Pull out my keys to unlock the door. Geesh! The door’s been unlocked for the last hour! Noticing a sea of broken window glass strewn along the foothpath I guess I’m saving any would-be car thief the extra time of bashing the window to get in.

Right. Put the new ticket on the dash and remember to lock the door. I walk the few blocks back to wait for my new card and as I walk in I hear my name being called. I look at my watch. Five minutes to spare on the first round of parking. It figures.

So, as I walk back to the car, tired but happy to have a valid green card in my hand and a bounty of time on the meter, I get to the car, peek through the windshield. Uh oh, no parking receipt. What? Opening the door, I see where it had fallen to the floor. Face down.

Now, given the overall theme of the day, the appropriate ending to this saga would be to say that indeed my car was sporting a new tyre clamp. But thankfully and quite uneventfully, that is not the case and I took my tired self home for a well-deserved lie down.

…but not quite at marvelous…yet.

Right, I’ve had my bit of catharsis by airing the ‘blankness’ of my creativity. Thanks for the encouraging words! But now time to get on with it!

The Guild-Intended-Kiddie-Fetchings are done and washed, which did them a world of good. Softened and fuzzied ‘em right up so that they won’t scar the little hands that wear them. And the keep-them-from-getting-lost string, which looked goofy prior to washing, is now just the right retro touch, I think.

Also got along with the Branching-Out-Initial-Attempt-At-Lace. Finished the knitting, but for the life of me can’t find a single pin to do the blocking. Much of my time is spent asking myself ‘Where did I put….?’ and then realising it’s in a box stored about 30 miles away! Sigh. But overall, I’m happy with the knitted result, am looking forward to the blocked version, and have tossed it in the Christmas-Gifts-Done pile.

What next?

Well, I think I’m back to tried and true comfort knitting. Have an idea for wild and spotty felted clogs to add to the Christmas knitting. Starting with this palette for the base….

And adding these bits of spotty colour…

If I can’t find a Relative-To-Be-The-Christmas-Gift-Recipient, then I’ll gladly wear them on my perpetually cold tootsies. Spottylicious!

And then…

In addition to nicking Holly’s good idea for doing Christmas knitting in the first place, I’m now nicking Isobel’s good idea for the 7 hour flight to the US. As I’m trapped in a confined space for a good portion of time, I hope to finally learn to crochet! Thought that a wonderful use of time since knitting needles are still taboo, which….well, don’t get me started…oops too late…

Warning: Airline Rant Approaching
Okay, so I’m fine with the fact that metal knitting needles are not allowed on planes. They can do damage. Have you ever run into a needle? I know people who have and it does leave a mark.

But tell me…what exactly are wooden knitting needles? Yep, pencils without lead! I am amazed that pencils are still allowed on airlines, but wooden needles, even circulars, are not. Why, I would think that the lead would be the dangerous part! In fact, couldn’t I take a basic No. 2 pencil, take out the lead and knit with ‘em? Yes, indeedy. But will I? Nope, too much trouble.

And so I’ll learn to crochet, bringing the bluntest, wobbliest hook known on this earth so that no one will worry that I might put an eye out or threaten my neighbour.

Creativity is piercing the mundane to find the marvelous.  -Bill Moyers

This is my brain right now…

And this is the amount of creativity I’ve been having…

This is amount of projects I’ve been planning…

And the amount of inspired writing I’ve been doing…

Life is rather mundane these days, needless to say not a lot of creativity. Eegads, even the pics are unoriginal! Right, I don’t want to be whinger…

Cultural Expression Diversion Ahead
I gotta confess that I greatly prefer the use of the word whinger-known in a more European cultural setting-over the word whiner-more likely used in a North American context. Knowing that word has also brought a greater understanding of the subtle irony to Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia’s residence in Little Whinging, Surrey in the Harry Potter series. Can you imagine a town filled with ‘em? Whingers, that is. Anyway, back to the mundane…

Without sounding too pathetic, recent days have been filled with the filling of boxes. Then the moving of boxes. And the storing of boxes. Not much creativity there. With a month to go before the summer holiday trip, we have already begun living out of suitcases, for everything else has gone into a box…which has been moved and stored…

I can imagine expansive vistas providing a huge ’scope for the imagination’, as Anne would say. But that is not now. That is yet to come. The ‘now’ is filled with the mundane. Yikes, that does sound pathetic!

Guess it’s time to dig deep into the reserves of creativity to pierce through this season of mundane and discover the marvelous on the other side.