Life's a Stitch

What's more joyful than a child skipping down the sidewalk? One of my co-workers told me about when she and her son left a recent parent teacher conference and he broke into spontaneous skipping. You could tell he was one happy little camper.

Adults don't skip down the street unless they're acting in a Viag*a commercial. What's the grownup version of skipping? Whistling? And why don't we skip? When did we stop? What would it take to get you to skip? New knees? A lottery win? A wee bit of wine? Someone's got to think about these things.

For $29. Never thought I could do cashmere at that price, but the combination of Hand Maiden 2-ply (supposedly 273 meters/300 yards worth – seemed like more) and this pattern, produced a 70" scarf that's oh so soft.

 
Pattern: Lacy Kerchief Scarf (Interweave Press), way easier than it looks.

Yarn and needles: Hand Maiden 2-ply Cashmere with US#4 needles

Modifications: Increased every eight rows rather than every six, and
omitted y/o’s that were supposed to produce an eyelet in the garter
stitch section.

Thoughts: This pattern does really well in a semi-solid yarn, and I've seen it in a self-striping yarn that works nicely, too. I like my scarves a bit shorter so, if I plan on making the increases every 8 rows (it makes it easier than every 6 rows in an 8 row repeat), I'd decrease the number of repeats on each end to two or three rather than five. Apologies to you non or beginner knitters, I know that must sound ridiculous. 

So, what to do with the second skein I bought?

I don't know how long you've been reading this blog, but I've had a couple of posts called "Where are the children?" It's about stuff my kids got into that I don't hear about until the filter of time has done its job. In other words, enough time has passed that they won't suffer natural and logical consequences for their actions.

Tonight we're sitting around the dinner table, this threesome of empty nesters, Chuck, me and the spouse of Raveler Zoebis, who stays with us when he works in the Lower Mainland, leaving Ms Zoebis to languish in yarn and spinny goodness, but that's another story. We start talking about what we did as kids that might have fit that kind of childhood statute of limitations. It all centered around electricity.

In Doug's case it had to do with his boy siblings, go figure, all aware of a household phenomenon, where if they touched a certain shower head in one particular bathroom, due to a combination of water and poor wiring, they'd receive an electrical shock. Of course they all had to try that shower with a variety of, thankfully, non-life threatening results. Then he told us the time they touched nine volt batteries to their braces. My mother would have said at the time, "Boys will be boys."

We girls got into our own mischief. Reminded me when I was little, a little too little for this kind of thing. Really little. My grandparent's kitchen had a pink sparkly countertop with one of those grooved chrome edges that would now be classified as a mid-century relic. If you opened the fridge with one hand, and touched the chrome edge with the other, voila, the current would run right through you. My cousins and I (those of us with a long enough reach, several girls and a boy) saw this as the perfect dare opportunity and we all survived, most with eventual graduate degrees. Hmmm.

Come on, we all have these stories. Time to fess up.

And because this is a knitting blog here's a boy gift, another Bob Blankie, in its beginning stages:

I've had all good intentions to post about interesting Palm Springs stuff, Olympic Opening Ceremony entertainment, Valentine's Day, but the older I get, the faster time goes and I'm frequently trying to play catch up.

So let's start from way back, Palm Springs. I had never been there, nor had any desire to go, but once there I was hooked. Was it the warm dry weather? The interesting terrain with accompanying Indian lore and spirituality? Who knows? I know, though, that I'll be back.

My favourite spot? Indian Palms Canyon. In the middle of the desert, way down in an earthquake created  crevasse, a palm oasis following the fault line.

Hundreds of years ago the Aqua Caliente Cahuilla Indians used this sacred place, surrounded by desert, for farming and as a meeting place to share meals, hunt and weave baskets. Artifacts of their culture remain today. You could imagine the kids playing hide and seek around the giant palms.

 
Thirty years ago, little boys playing with matches accidentally ignited all the palms for miles along the canyon. The trees miraculously survived, bearing scars:

We hiked way up the ridge over the canyon. Those are the miles of palms winding below:

And back to the hummingbird feeder near the trading post:

 

Magic.

Reading all my recent Olympic commentary, you might have wondered if this indeed is a knitting blog. Here, finally, is some knitting content. OK, in a way it's Olympic content as well. This is about the project that was intended to accompany me to the Opening Ceremonies for the looooooonnnnng pre-ceremony, post-security wait.

It's that security part that really makes it knitting content. Can you imagine? They tried to confiscate my knitting needles. Would I let them? No way. Adding the cost of a pair of Addi circulars to my ceremony tickets? Uh-uh, I dug in my neatly gusseted heels.

I politely explained that knitting needles have been allowed on flights for years. That one didn't fly. A supervisor was called in.

Keeping my cool, I told her I consulted with customer service. She officiously wanted to know with whom, at Vanoc, I had spoken. OK it was the website that provided my information, but there was nothing about sharp objects other than knives, including pocket types, which, by the way, Mr.B had confiscated at his security gate. Good thing we weren't together.

Out came my last weapon of defense, the project itself, sweetly dangling in its pastel glory, from short circular needles. It worked! Off I went, but did I have a chance to knit? Nope. True to Olympic orchestration, during the hour of pre-ceremony activities, there was audience training complete with costumes (you did notice that everyone in the audience wore powder blue paper ponchos) and props (two kinds of flashlights and cardboard drums). It was worth it, I admit it.

Here's the culprit, posing in the garden for the 2010 Spring Olympics:

Pattern: Little Girl's Shrug #288 by Diane Soucy, size 2 (yes, another one)

Yarn: Machine washable Punto Fancy Color, coincidentally in colourway #288, same as the pattern number. Vancouver knitters, this was part of my small haul from Dressew's $1.99 per skein deal. If you haven't yet been, it's a must see. Lots of Nashua, Regia sock yarns and Rowan yarns for that price and Rowan books for $3.99.

Thoughts: There are more of these little girl gifts in my future.

Now I'm off with my knitting needles to safely watch some live internet Olympic sporting events, believe it or not, the first I've seen so far.

 

We've come to the realization that sports make up only half of the Olympic experience. Good thing, due to the dearth of affordable tickets. What's the other half of the Olympic experience? The people – playing host, the visitors, the athletes – most of them on their best behaviour.

The answer to our family's standard questions regarding their impressions of an extraordinary experience – What were the best parts and what were the worst? Four days in, here they are:

• The Opening Ceremony – Despite seats in the very back row, being part of that energy was as moving as any item on a list of top life experiences. I still get teary at the thought. Imagine that – me, Ms. Olympic bah-humbug! It must have been good, you know my disdain for marks of exclamation!

OK, one more team photo. I love this one, an enthusiastic supporter of the Polish contingent, who popped up just as I took the picture:

• Again, by fluke, happened to find tickets to the Victory Ceremony featuring our Alexandre Bilodeau's gold medal. I probably don't have to remind anyone that it was Canada's first gold at a Canadian Olympics. Witnessing history:

• The sense of connection formed from the good will between individuals who make up the throngs of Olympic participants.

• Canadian patriotism like I've never seen:

The worst:

• The tragic death of luger Nodar Kumaritashvili.
• Imported fake protesters, whose acts of violence and vandalism are most unwelcome. The cauldron bearing the flame, the ultimate Olympic symbol, had to be protected from vandals by a double set of eight foot high draped fencing. Shame, isn't it:

• Line ups, hours long for any free attraction. Example: the downtown zip line, a ride seconds in length, with a four hour wait. Anyone who expected to have a quality Olympic experience, without purchasing pricey tickets, must be bitterly disappointed:

 

Enough for now. Opening Ceremony entertainment in a future post. Oh that KD…

I've been listening carefully to peoples' opinions and realize the source of my Olympic feelings. A CBC listener summed it up: "lt's like they've invited the world but forgot to invite Vancouver. Someone else said: I'd feel a helluva lot better about it if I had hockey tickets." It was the inaccessibility of tickets for locals as well as their high prices that were bugging me. It wasn't for lack of trying, I spent way too much time pressing the
ticket search button. The party was starting and I couldn't go.

Officials spouted it was no big deal, there were plenty of free events with large screen TV's for the masses. That made me feel real good – a bit Marie Atoinette-esque, "Let them eat cake."

Then something happened.The confession: through a random set of circumstances my invitation arrived:

Granted, the tickets are way way way up in the sky, I think third row from the top, but I'll be there. One second I wasn't going and the next I was and all of a sudden it felt great.

I may have sold out, but I've learned a lot about the importance of inclusion.

And I get the best of both worlds because I am Canadian! And I am American! I get to cheer twice.

The next day was the torch relay and I saw it in the morning in front of my office and in the evening two houses away from home:

 

And although not knit, look for the baby's hat in this picture:

I'm on my way!

That soft, muted out-of-focus look? Didn't pay much for this filter, just shot it through my bathroom window. An example of you get what you pay for.

There were about a dozen of them, Robins feasting on holly berries:

Somewhere between the colour of holly berries and the breast of a Robin, the Lacy Kerchief Scarf continues:

 

OK readers, I rant about once a year. Generally not one to get involved in political commentary I suppose now is as good time as any. Is writing about our 2010 Olympics political? If so, permit me this moment of weakness. Yes, I'm one of those, the ones who get annoyed by the event, expensive and over-orchestrated. Examples:

1. Tickets. I have a wide network of local people and only one was able to secure tickets to any event. People I know from out-of-town, booking pricey packages, were luckier. The rationale I've heard is that they were more likely to get tickets because tourists bring in money for accommodation, food and souvenirs. BTW, tickets to the opening ceremonies were originally listed at $175, $550, $750 and $1100 and most went to people of political influence or those booking high priced packages. Remaining tickets are available on the official website by auction only. Read: higher than the listed prices. Same with pairs figure skating: $150, $275 and $450. These are not events for your average citizen.

2. Parking/road closures. I know of someone, who lives at the base of Cypress Mountain, home to the snowboarding event. She found a ticket. Trouble is, she can't drive to the event due to road closures. In this case, she needs to book a Vanoc bus. Closest bus stop, about a mile and a half from her house – full. Next closest, four miles, full. She has to drive nine miles to park her car, catch the bus, ride past her house up the mountain, and walk a mile to see the event.  And she has mobility issues.

3. Formalities: Six hundred City of Vancouver employees have been given a protocol guide so they can learn the basics of Olympic etiquette such as:

It is important to wear clothing that fits properly. Never dress in clothes that are too tight, they may make a slim person look gaunt and a large person look heavier. Make sure all attire is clean and pressed. Dress shirts may stain easily. Some protocol personnel carry extra shirts with them. Avoid wearing short socks. If they are too short, they may show bare leg when you sit down. Wear knee-high socks or stockings that reach above the calf. Socks should match pant colour. Accessories such as jewelry should be conservative. Hair should be kept tidy yet stylish.

4. What's in a name? Vancouver was home to a number of businesses with the word Olympic in their name and the familiar rings on their signage. Was is the key word here. Vanoc claimed ownership of the word and the rings. One little long time family owned pizzeria, Olympia Pizza, took on the Vanoc goliath and won. They were able to their 20+ year old signage, but any business taking on the Olympic name or trademark after 1998, were legally pressured to give theirs up.

5. The carbon footprint – No snow at Cypress Mountain? Let's use trucks and helicopters to bring some in. What the heck, it's for a good cause. But wait, the snow might be stained from the exhaust fumes.

6. Security – Did I hear this right? I did. It woke me from my half sleep listening to the news tonight. The bill for security is 900 million dollars. That leaves me almost speechless. I'm dreaming. What world problems might be solved with $900 million?

7. One  more and I'll give it up. The Torch Relay – 106 Days, 12,000 torch bearers, 45,000 kilometers, $24.5 million, priceless. Oh, was that a Mastercard commercial? At the Olympics you're only allowed to use Visa.

It shouldn't be this difficult. I thought the Olympics were about sports and excellence. And as a community social service worker I have not gotten into the price tag and its effect on people, programs and services. 

I want to go back to Palm Springs, where I can be oblivious to politics. Flights are cheaper than Olympic tickets.