Life's a Stitch

We made it to Wisconsin despite our flight being cancelled due to snow in Denver. The closest they could get us was Chicago! We rented a car and drove the rest of the way through sheets of rain. Better rain than snow.

More on the wedding in another post – it was a wonderful mixture of family and tradition, so missed because we made the choice long ago to move far away. Today is the yarn crawl and tomorrow on to Rochester MN for a few days.

I bought a new black dress for the occasion since it was an evening event. Showing it to Bryant:

"Mom it looks like a witch’s dress."

I’m thinking, how appropriate for a Halloween season wedding, but don’t want to give his comment credence by verbalizing it.

"Should I wear my gold dress shoes or get some black boots (meaning little ankle boots with sensible heels)?"

"Depends if you want the dominatrix look." Did I spell that correctly?

Dad says "When I was 16 I didn’t even know that word existed."

"Maybe it didn’t back then," replies quick Bry.

Knitting with some lethal looking size 17 needles, I suggest I wear them as a necklace for my dominatrix look.

Bryant, who regularly makes fun of me photographing my knitting in a variety of "poses," quips in his mommy imitation voice, which sounds like nails on a chalkboard "Here is my yarn being punished."

Then he realizes, "Hey Mom, you’re going to be there for Halloween."

"Yes," I reply, I’m taking along an orange scarf, a pointy hat and a broom to go with my dress."

So there.

What made this workday so different? It started out with a commute on the seaplane. I admit I was nervous about it, but the pilot said not to worry, we were travelling above one long strip of runway. I found that quite reassuring. Vancouver to Victoria, harbour to harbour in 35 minutes, can’t beat it.

Add in a lunchtime trip to the Beehive Wool Shop and it’s a day like no other. Believe it or not, I didn’t buy a thing, but my co-worker, Barb, succumbed to the Fleece Artist Sea Silk (70% silk and 30% seaweed)  and Inca Gold (80% alpaca and 20% cashmere). Can you imagine, she blamed her purchases on me.

The sun came out on the way home and the scenery was spectacular. Mount Baker is peeking out above the gulf islands in the second photo. As we were landing (is that the correct term for the end of a float plane trip?) there was a good view of North Vancouver.

Too bad no knitting came along on the trip. Lady E, like Marina, is getting too darn big to lug around. Both projects need luggage of their own. Tomorrow I’m off to Madison, WI for my niece’s wedding. Yes, an excuse to start a portable project! I’ll try to post this weekend.

Do I miss my houseful of girls! I’ve been used to two daughters and one or two girl language students to keep me company. Now it’s Chuck, Bryant and me. They do boy things and make boy sounds. Last night they captured a gigundous moth, put it in the freezer for three minutes, just enough time to make it dozy. The took it out and tied dental floss around it so they could have a leashed moth. I mean, really, sometimes I just need to be in the company of women.

Last Sunday, thinking of an afternoon activity that might appeal to the male energy in my house, I suggested we go to the Home Show. I figured there’d be things like power tools, flooring installation instructions and hints on how to build a new driveway. We arrived in the pouring rain to find outside parking at $15. I would rather walk five miles in the rain than pay $15 for parking. We found meter parking for $6.

The last time we went to the home show it cost $8 to get in. That was a long time ago, now it’s $13. So, $31 bought us entry into a coliseum type venue filled with people trying to sell us things.Everything from Cutco knives and Pampered Chef (I’ve bought enough of that through you, Jane, so I wasn’t even tempted) to high end massage chairs (no thank you, I have my little IJoy). The only flooring was the highest of high end wood stuff and there were no power tools in sight unless you want to count the slicer and dicer kitchen machine. It was a living infomercial. We agreed we were glad we went so we’ll know not to go next year. I guess we’ll stick to our dates at Home Depot. At least we don’t have to pay admission to spend money.

On a positive note, here is another finished Herringbone Rib scarf, by Nina, of Nina’s Blog. She says:"This pattern was just so much fun. I worked it in Colinette’s Prism yarn (2 skeins worth.) This is going to make a fun surprise present for my dear friend!"

I’ve sent out over 50 of these patterns. There was someone interested in publishing this in her book, but it required relinquishing the copyright. I’m having so much fun "meeting" people who want it I just couldn’t give it up. So if you know of anyone who wants a copy, it’s here for the asking. Remember to send a picture or let me know when you’re posting about it and I’ll add you to the sidebar.

If you know me you know that I don’t make purchases without first knowing from where the money will come. Ms Practicality here never carries a credit card balance. So what I’ve done, in my books, is really bad. A total act of greed and comfort. OK, so here’s the story. I was at Costco last weekend, and you know how Costco is, if you see something you want you have to scoop it up or it may not be there next time. Even if you take it home, their return policy is pretty good.The other thing you need to know is that I have some problems with back pain from a previous injury. Long story, no details necessary.

So, while I’m at Costco I see people with wonderful facial expressions and accompanying vocalizations, trying out a massage chair, appropriately dubbed the I-Joy. It’s a very basic model, ugly velour, not leather, manual recline, not electric. Even without these accoutrements, it’s seeming to do the trick. And it’s 25% less than the same one at Linen’s and Things. I was on my best behaviour and left without it.

Well, wouldn’t you know it, my back pain kicked into full gear this week. I HAD to have that I-Joy. Just couldn’t live without it. Went to Costco and there was ONE left. Was that a sign or what? So there you have it. I’m the proud owner of one and boy is it wonderful. Bryant’s first question – "Will you be able to knit in it, mom?" The best of both worlds. I’ll figure out how to pay for it later. Meanwhile, Lady E is not giving me a hard time about it:

Yarn Yenta is having a blog contest. You have to answer these questions:

1. Where is your favorite knitting spot? I thought it was the wing chair in my living room. May have to change it to the IJoy.
2. If you suddenly could never knit again (shudder) – what would you do instead? Read more.
3. If you could travel anywhere in the world – where would you go and why? Australia and New Zealand because I’ve never been and to visit old friends.
4. When you were little – What did you want to do "when you grew up?"  Art teacher. Are you doing it? Nope.
5. What is your favorite flavor of ice cream? Peach.

The used to be called our walk, as in Bryant’s and mine. That is until he turned 16. No explanation necessary if you know 16 year old boys.

Gracee’s not thrilled with it either. She’s never been much of a walker. When she arrived to us, at an older than usual puppy age, her toenails had never been clipped, causing her pain and difficulty in walking. With encouragement she walked with me last weekend. I love holiday walks, going out after putting the turkey in the oven, then coming home to a house filled with roasting turkey smells.

So, this is our walk. It’s under a mile and takes around 20 minutes, longer if sniffing is involved or if she plants those four Scottie feet firmly into the ground and requires coaxing to continue. This is at the end of our driveway heading up the hill:

Up another hill, the worst part of the walk is the first part. The Grouse Mountain skyride is on the mountain directly in front of us. On sunny days you can usually see paragliders sailing off the mountain. Notice the tropical looking grasses? Lots of people here have introduced grasses, banana trees and palms to their gardens. There are purists who think we should leave well enough alone and stick to native varieties of trees. If we thought like that then the city of Regina, in Saskatchewan, would be treeless. Nearly every tree there had its roots, so to speak, from elsewhere.

Round the corner, here’s the view before we take the steps down to the trail. This is the kind of day that sells Vancouver real estate to out of towners. We were They are seduced by the glorious scenery and blue sky. Little do they know how few days are really like this without fog and mizzle. I am truly appreciative:

Here’s the trail where I think Gracee is her happiest. The ground is soft and she can be leash free. Next is the creek. I took a stone from this creek and matched the terracotta colour of one of its speckles for the paint in our entryway. Finally, there’s Grace having a drink of cold mountain water:

Back on the street here’s a view of UBC, its residence towers peeking out in front of the clouds in the distance.The second photo is the homestretch. I like this street, lined on both sides with plum trees. Grace needs encouragement to make this last bit. A right turn and we’ll be home:

Here we are. This is our yard. Remember the Great Wall project Chuck took on two Octobers ago? It’s done. A fait accompli! In the background, however, you can see the next project in progress – a garden shed.

Notice the solar garden lamps in the first picture? Now there’s a concept -solar, meaning sun powered – lights in British Columbia. It still cracks me up that I spent money on lights that only work a third of the time. They were selling them at Costco and I figured they had done their research. At least they weren’t too expensive.

Here is the before picture, shortly after the original retaining wall fell down. Enough said.

My Thanksgiving crowd left on the 11:00 ferry this morning. Chuck’s on his way down to B’Ham to clean the condo before the next rental. Too bad there was no room for me in the van, it being filled to the brim with U Vicers and the dad. I’ll relax suffer at home, thank you very much. As the song says, I’ve got no place to go and all day to get there. I’d better cherish it, it’s back to work tomorrow.

It was an exceptionally good turkey this year, brined overnight in apple juice and salt. We say it every year, but this one was truly the best. What’s you favourite part of the turkey dinner?  Mine is what my family so indelicately calls "picking the carcass." Plucking off the Pope’s nose, scooping out those last bits of stuffing, pulling off shreds of cold turkey meat, ah it’s the Viking life for me! People in my family come in two varieties, those who like to pick the carcass and those who stand aside and roll their eyes.

Besides cooking,  there was time for knitting. For those who are counting, yes, there are more rectangles than called for the Lady Eleanor pattern. I wanted mine wider; more shawl-like than scarf-like:

Twice in my life I’ve had the opportunity to meet, by chance, particularly interesting 80 some-year-old strangers. The first was when I was about eleven and met a woman while walking home from the bank. Despite my parent’s advice, I talked to strangers. Always the bargain hunter I had walked two miles to open a new account in order to get a free gift. I think it was an electric warming tray – just what an 11-year-old needs. The woman was 82 and told me about her visit to her son in Alaska. She was quite adventurous and I remember telling my incredulous parents that even though she was 82, I thought she was going to live a long time.

On my recent trip to Seattle, 40 years later, I met another one as we exited the Amtrak train at Edmonds, 40 minutes from the Seattle station. We were approached by a woman of advanced age, a New Yorker by voice, wearing an exquisite red leather coat.

She says, in her gravelly New York voice "How do I get to Pike St. Market?"

"That’s in Seattle," we say en chorus.

"Ohhh, I’m so stupid, I got off at the wrong stop. How do I get there from here?"

"We can take you there," the chorus replied.

"You’re accent sounds just like my mother’s," says I en solo.

"Oh honey, I’m much oldah than your muthah."

Is that the truth or a compliment I wondah.

The social worker in me comes out, "Don’t worry you’re safe with us."

"Honey, at my age I don’t worry about THAT anymore."

We pile into the car. She explains that she travels alone when not living on the beach at Far Rockaway. She stays in hostels and finds the young people very nice. Her hostel tonight is called the Green Taw-tis (that would be Tortoise), and not in a very nice part of town, might I add. Riding along in the car I get up the courage, "Would it be too nervy of me to ask how old you are?"

"What?" Either she didn’t hear me or she was shocked by my chutzpah. 

I took a deep breath, upped the volume, and asked again "HOW OLD ARE YOU?"

"I’m 83. Of course I don’t tell that to men. I knock off 20 years."

All four of us are laughing when she adds this, "I told this to my gynecologist and had her in hysterics."

Make that three more in hysterics. She goes on to tell us about her recent ferry trip to Victoria BC. I asked her if she saw whales.

"Oh honey, I only paint whales, I’ve nevah met one face-to-face in person."

I paint, and if I were to paint a whale I’d be at the aquarium studying their every move and muscle before putting brush to paper. No spontaneous whale painting for me. It clarified what a free spirit this woman was. As if I needed clarification from an 83-year-old who knocks 20 years off her age for the men, and still sees a gynecologist! It was late, my brain was obviously asleep.

At Pike Street Market she insisted on getting out, although there was no sign of the Green Tortoise. She wouldn’t be held back. "Don’t worry" she said, I’ll ask a vagrant." There was no getting her back into the car.

I listened for sirens all night.

I can’t think of an appropriate picture to illustrate this post – I should have taken her photo. So, I’ll leave you with my stash enhancements from the trip:

A Happy Canadian Thanksgiving weekend to all. I have a houseful of early 20 somethings, six of them, all here for turkey! OK, Megan the vegan will have to settle for lentils.

Update for Jane’s "Show Me Your Socks" contest. This is the current state of my sock projects:

Chuck and Bryant worked at 7:00am this weekend and I had the house all to myself. I didn’t go out all day Saturday except to walk the dog. I didn’t fix my bedhead. I made a big pot of chicken soup and one of red beans for rice and beans, a staple of my childhood from the Puerto Rican side of the family.

I attacked Mount Laundry. I tidied up my half done Lady Eleanor so the end weaving won’t be so overwhelming. Isn’t the way the colours are coming out absolutely magical?

I had CBC radio on for 14 hours. Did you know that Bryan Adams was a busboy here in North Vancouver at the Tomahawk Restaurant? Or that Sheryl Crowe grew up in a house with three pianos? Thank you Randy Bachman for those musical bits of tid.

Back to my day. The exciting part. I drew the winner of my blogiversary contest. I wish everyone could be the winner. If I win the lottery big time, yarn to all of you! And the winner is… Restless Knitter who came out of lurkdom to say she likes Life’s a Stitch just the way it is. Thanks again to everyone for all your kind comments and feedback. This was fun, I’ll be doing it again.

If you’ve been reading you know about the boat ride. This was a $60 one day mini-cruise from Seattle to Vancouver. This is Part 2 of the great yarn crawl/cruise adventure. To wrap up the yarn crawl, you’ll be amazed that I exercised great self control. My recent criteria for yarn purchasing is either that I’m desperate for yarn to finish a project or that I have a project in mind and the yarn is at least 40% off. This trip enhanced my stash by a few of the Annie Blatt kits at $17.50 and the three remaining skeins for Lady Eleanor.

Prior to boarding we took some photos from Jeff’s apartment’s roof garden, which has spectacular views:

   

Gotta love the Pacific Northwest in the sunshine! And of course, a son who’ll vacate his apartment for two yarn crawling moms. On board the ship there were more views of Seattle in the sunshine. I feel so privileged; people pay good money to see Seattle this time of year and never get to see the sunshine, much less Mount Rainier:

Finally, my travelling companions: me, Marsha, her son Jeff, her husband Dave, his friend, Bill and of course, Lady Eleanor.

I’ll be posting the winner of the blogiversary contest early in the week.

You know it’s a good yarn crawl when:

1. You have to take a break to eat lunch in order to clear your head enough to make purchasing decisions.

2. You get a fortune cookie at lunch that reads "You will take on a new project and complete it."

3. You hit a yarn math shop (yes. you read that right) with a "baker’s dozen special," not the kind you’d see in a bakery – buy 12 and get 1 free. This one was buy 7 and get 6 skeins free. Special note to those who live near Seattle: the store Math and Stuff, on 90th and Roosevelt Way NE, has a yarn section. Go figure. The yarn section is not doing well and the baker’s dozen special is their way of clearing things out. They have an interesting collection, grouped by colour, but limited colours of each yarn. For example they had Tartlette, but only in three colours and Noro Silk Garden but only in two. They have more inventory in back, stored by manufacturer in boxes, and they’ll let you have at them if you ask. Other stock that I remember: Noro Silver Thaw, Segue ribbon, Mountain Colors loopy mohair, Manos del Uruguay in a good selection of colours.This is blogless Marsha sorting the goods.

4. Finding Anny Blatt $44 angora and ribbon scarf kits for $17.50.

5. Tracking down three skeins of discontinued, albeit troublesome Silk Garden in the right colourway, to add length to my Lady Eleanor. Yes, I’m a glutton for knitting punishment, you can tell that by the projects I take on, can’t you? My Noro may be flawed. but thinking positively, the only negative is that I have to weave in more ends. The colours are beautiful.

Marsha and I spent the first two nights in her son’s beautiful downtown Seattle apartment. Thank you, Jeff, for graciously handing over your apartment to us. It was the perfect spot to knit, enjoy the view (this really is the view without a telephoto lens), and of course, enjoy some decent wine.

I can’t leave out one of my travelling companions, Lady Eleanor, posing on Amtrak from Vancouver to Seattle:

Next post: the boat ride. Although it is disrespectful to call a ship a boat, our 15 hour trip hardly counts as a cruise, so it has been dubbed the boat ride.