Life's a Stitch

In my dating years I used to say you could tell a lot by a guy by the books he kept at eye level on his bookshelf. What does a ring tone tell you about a person? We went around a table the other night, filled mostly with younger folk, each announcing their ring tone: theme from Halloween, old fashioned telephone ring, one that went "wah wah wah wah wha," and one who leaves hers on vibrate (got some snickers from the guys, go figure).

The discussion shifted to annoying ring tones: Fur Elise (oh that repetition), Who Let the Dogs Out, and a woman who recorded her young child screeching "Mom, get your phone, you phone is ringing, nowwww" (nails on a chalkboard).

My ring tone history: a chicken sound (affectionately called my bucking phone), New York New York (my birthplace), calming chimes (early menopause) and now a cheerful ditty called "Happy." I guess that's a good thing.

We're starting visitor season here in Vancouver. Funny thing, when we lived in Omaha hardly anyone came to visit No complaints, we love company hence the affectionate name for our house: L'Hotel B. SIL Ellen arrived yesterday with a gift. Knowing my predilection toward complicated knitting she gave me something she said I'd never knit for myself, and she's right. Three pretty dishclothes in my current favourite colour:

The closer to the equator the larger the creatures.

A hitchhiker from our recent Panama trip:

I remember, as a kid, returning home from Puerto Rico with fabric luggage covered in ticks. I discovered it when I woke up in the middle of the night, a crawling sensation on my neck, my suitcase next to the bed. Gives me the creeps even now. 

Used to be, flying there, just prior to landing, they would spray the inside of the plane's cabin with insecticide. The  flight staff dubbed this flight from NY to San Juan "the Roach Coach." Seems to me it might have been more necessary for returning flights, not that we needed further carcinogenic exposure in a confined space. Those were also the days when inflight smoking was permitted.

These are the real deal, in the wild, shot from an overpass, meters from our parked vehicle:

  
 

This was a beautiful, but very poor country, with an ironically modern highway system.

A local enjoying the oppressively hot sunshine. If it were humanly possible to melt, I wouldn't be here to tell this tale. Does being cold blooded help?

Back home in the cool Northwest, I can think about knitting again. Another Dressew purchase, 10 skeins of $1.99 bulky weight self striping yarn, in an aptly named colourway – Tropical Sea, in need of a pattern.

 

Scanning the blogs, there's some sentiment that there's not much knitting happening. Time to refocus. Easy enough, I had a dental appointment requiring some prophylactic stress treatment.

It's not that I don't like my dentist, we have a 25 year relationship and he's an admired professional. Believe it or not I used to look forward to my dental visits, a chance to kick back in a semi quiet atmosphere away from my reality of social service work and my family of three little ones. Although pleased with the ease of their work, his staff agreed I was one sick puppy. 

Kids grown up, work devolved from hair raising direct service to the role of full time in-office professional money begger, the dental visit doesn't have the pull for me that it used to. Now, while lying back in the chair, between a mouthful of conflicting tickle and prick sensations, my eyes are closed and I'm thinking of knitting. It's the project above, another Free and Easy Pie Wedge Shawl. In laceweight, they can be scrunched into lightweight  scarves. This one is made of hand painted semi solid Zephyr. It's difficult to find hand painted semi solid laceweights, especially in tones of brown, so if you're interested, check out Beyond Basic Knits.

It's back to the dentist this afternoon. I think I'll knit a few more rows.

Additions to my quirky sign collection:

 

How do you like your lite men? Rare? Well done? This is the place for you if you like yours with potatoes.

 

I know, it's in French, but it struck me funny that you could get pain in the spa buffet, but not in the general dining area. There is was just plain bread. No pain some gain. 

Be careful of the traditional treats of Costa Rica:

Vegetarians, cover your eyes. 

It's a ling pig:

Admittedly gross, but delicious (thank goodness for IPhoto's retouch tool). Brought back a memory of being eleven, and my parents hosting a New Year's Day party featuring a roast pig. As the guests entered the house and passed the dining room, my father introduced the guests to the cooked pig, saying "You remember our dog, Whiskey." No wonder I'm the way I am. 

This sign tells me "Don't get into trouble in Panama:"

 

Finally, some good advice for all of us. Whenever possible, live your trace on the sand. But remember your sunscreen:

 

My favourite picture of that day. No sign necessary – Mr. B, obviously a tourist.

Thanks for putting up with the departure from knitting, it's been a slow go with recent hand problems. Pictures soon. 

…a child's pronunciation of the very appropriate book series. I know, I know, it appears I've been ignoring my blog. It's just that I've been wracking my computer abilities trying to compose an animated GIF in honour of C's 60th big birthday, to no avail. Wanted to let you know we're still here. Three days of too much birthday party starting with:

 

The next day a Puerto Rican celebration:

Artichokes, pernil (pork roast), rice and beans. The diet starts tomorrow.

Sounds so restful, that engineering term. The angle of repose: is the minimum angle made by an inclined plane with a horizontal surface such that the body lying on the inclined plane is just at the verge of sliding down along the inclined plane. So relaxed is that body, it's teetering on slippage. Just so long as it doesn't drop any stitches along the way:

 

I learned that concept while sailing through the Panama Canal. Never gave the canal much thought, just accepting its benefit in permitting ships the ability to avoid an eight day sail around South America. But it is really fascinating, not as you might imagine – a skinny concrete sea level passage from the Caribbean Sea to the Pacific. It's actually a series of locks at each end of a mountain range with a fresh water man made lake in the middle. It's 50 miles of sailing, 8-10 hours, with deep steamy jungle on either side. The toll for our ship was about $300,000, a considerable savings over the alternative roundabout route. 
 

Entering the Panama Canal at sunrise:

 

In the locks, a foot of clearance on either side:

 

Beautiful scenery on Gatun Lake:

  

A neighbouring ship enters the end set of locks:

 

Pacific sunset:

 
 

 
  
 
 

…and one much needed one for me, too. See you in three weeks. Knit lots!

Whomp rattle rattle. If you've been to my house you'll recognize that noise. Even the neighbours have commented. It's the front door closing. You had to whomp it to get it to close and then the single pane sidelights on either side would rattle like glasses in the cupboard during an earthquake. The rattle part was worsened after the barbeque rolled through one of the sidelights in a windstorm.

Look closely: the two didn't even match, a patch job to get us by. A shame for one who used to work in the glass business. Such is life for the shoemaker's children, sporting sole worn boots. Don't mind the lack of drywall, actually plaster over plywood, the demolition was in progress so I quickly grabbed my camera lest history be quickly forgotten:

 

A few hours and a home renovation tax credit later:

 

It still needs staining – my job, but now it closes with a solid woosh, so sealed it is, that the pressure nearly makes my ears pop.

 

Hardly a red meat eating household anymore, one day we decided to satiate our occasional meaty needs. C went to SaveOn Foods (for you non-Canadians, it's a division of Overwaitea Foods, an unusual name for a grocery distributor if you ask me) and bought some steak, Mmmmm, Mmmmm, Mmmmm. He threw the grocery bags into the back of the truck and this is what arrived home:

Still packed in the plastic grocery bag with handles neatly tied together, all we can figure is that an eagle or a crow dived bombed the bag and got what was at the very top. Very clean job, don't you think?

Thank you for the suggestions regarding adaptive knitting. With the help of some topical anti-inflammatory gel, I'm able to knit a half dozen shawl or baby blankie rows at a time – enough to satisfy the urge. Strange though, one of the side effects of a cream applied to the thumb, is an upset stomach. The body is a funny thing.

Not for the usual medical reason where you are advised against grapefruit juice for its potentiating tendencies when combined with certain drugs. My doctor has ordered me away from my pink grapefruit Citron in progress:

In fact, any knitting does not mix with the current state of my thumb. How is it one little appendage can cause so much misery? And the ugly names to go with it – Trigger Thumb, French Washer Woman's Syndrome, de Quervain's Tenosynovitis. Not whining, but needing a portable activity for C's big birthday trip coming up. No thumb action allowed. Suggestions appreciated, good books, adaptive knitting…..?