Life's a Stitch

I was going to write good thoughts on darling doggies. The first we met at Butchart Gardens, lovingly pulled in a wagon by his owner. "The most spoiled dog on earth," he told us. The second is Bradford, the pampered pup of artist Ted Harrison, BC artist. Mr. Harrison was an art teacher from England, but in 1967 answered an ad to teach "in the land of the mighty moose, where weaklings need not apply" – the Yukon. He is now retired in Victoria where I had the pleasure of meeting him. The third dog is on my shit list. That would be Gracee, innocently enjoying a picnic at the park. That’s when I liked her a lot. Since then, she has eaten the underwire out of yet another bra and, tonight, discovered a premium leather chew toy. They were on sale but I had owned them for less than six hours. Earlier today I was thinking how, as a puppy, she had only chewed our kitchen cabinets and never a shoe. Until now. Bad dog.

Knitting progress, the modified-to-make-it-larger Landscape Scarf is working:

You know what I mean, some stories just don’t translate to blogdom. I’ll give it a try, though. This one gets filed under out of the mouths minds of babes. Baby boys, that is, age 17. You’ve got the mindset, here’s the story.

The other night Chuck and I were discussing my last post. The conversation led to an innocent enough comment on breast size and the French saying about "more than a champagne glass is too much." Our little pitcher, at 17 has big ears, which apparently perked up at the sound of a breastly conversation. From the other room we hear "I don’t get it." I could see him through the doorway with a look of confusion. He continues, "aren’t champagne glass those tall skinny ones?" I crack up knowing his 17-year-old brain is picturing the contortions necessary to do that sort of measurement. We explain to him that in the old days of our teenagehood, most champagne glasses weren’t of the flute variety. "Oh I know," says he who knows much, "they’re the ones that look like a martini glass without the point. Now I get it!" Maybe he knows too much.

I have no knitting pictures, just look at the last one posted, because after four days of knitting I have made no progress. This is a two steps forward one step backward project. Maybe this week it was four steps backwards. Instead, I’ll rely on cousin Lena’s eye-candy photos taken at Butchart Gardens in Victoria a couple of weeks back. The gardens were planted by the wife of a quarry owner, many years ago, to disguise the ugliness of the mined land. It has its own micro-climate that produces spectacular blooms. In fact, one of the gardeners told us that he has taken plants to his own home, 20 minutes away, only to have them fail due to the differences in climate.

We’ve had a heat wave in BC, and you know what that brings? Lots of office chatter about appropriate workwear. I don’t entirely get it since we work in an air conditioned environment. Nonetheless, people have the need to dress down when the sun shines. I’ve been circulating a couple of articles around the office, prompting much discussion.

Working in social services on the West Coast is a different environment than Toronto’s Bay Street, however casual professionalism is appreciated. What it boils down to for me, are two things. Be mindful of our clientele and colleagues – cover your cleavage, front and back, top and bottom. And here’s where I really draw the line. Don’t let me see your thong. Just call me old fashioned.

Hot weather sunsets:

Rainy weather knitting, the heat was short lived, but the colours are consistent:

My dentist’s assistant asked me if I’d be able to tolerate a minute with trays of impression material in my mouth. I told her I would view it as I did labor, it’s only 60 seconds of my life. Actually labor was 10 to 21 hours of my life depending upon which instance, but that’s not much compared to a lifetime. The woman looked at me like I had two heads, incredulous that I’d compare a visit to the dentist with labor. I reminded her that I’m the sick puppy who once said I go to the dentist for peace and quiet. Looking back, my life at that time must have been mayhem.

This is my second Landscape Scarf, made with the Mountain Colors mill ends of my last post. I thought I’d be smart and make it a little larger than the pattern’s instructions. I thought that I had memorized the rhythm of the pattern and no longer needed to refer to it. And I thought I could get by without counting stitches each row. I thought wrong. Cousin Lena observed that I’ve spent as much time on this scarf as I spent on her entire shawl. It’s only a couple of hours of my life. 

This summer our home will have been visited by Lena, Elina, Elena, Ellen and Lynn. Say that three times fast. Add me, Li, to that front of the mix and you have a mouthful. In high school Mari’s (pronounced Mahri’s) foursome was Mari, Mary, Sara and Amara. And at work, we’ve had two Cheryls, two Cindys, two Sues. Who would have thought names could be so poetic?

While visiting, Ellen, Lena and I made a discovery at Hellen’s in Mt. Vernon WA. Can you say Mountain Colors mill ends? That would be mill ends of their Bearfoot yarn at about half the usual price. Who cares if it’s divided between three skeins in order to make a pair of socks. Or you could buy just enough for a Landscape Scarf. What a find for those making mitred square projects.

I’ve been to Hellen’s many times and have overlooked their basket of goodies until this trip. I don’t get there that often and she doesn’t have a website. I haven’t found an online source for such small quantities and shipping to Canada would defeat the savings, so I’ll savour my occasional visits.

In my younger years I was one of those sun reflector, baby oil and iodine sun worshipers. Now I’m paying for it. Recently I had nine moles removed with more in my future. All were OK, but I feel like Swiss Cheese.

The subject matter for the mini-columns I write in our local paper often come from personal experience. So here’s the latest, right in time for unprecedented sunshine and heat in British Columbia:

The scoop on skin cancer:

The Canadian Dermatological Association reports that teens are being diagnosed with a skin cancer typically seen in people over 50,

• There is no such thing as a healthy tan.
• Sun exposure is responsible for 90% of all skin cancers.
• Any sunburn can cause irreversible damage.
• Australia has the highest rate of skin cancer in the world.
• Peeling is the body’s method of getting rid of damaged skin.
• Sunscreen should be applied thirty minutes prior to sun exposure,
• There are no safe ultraviolet rays, a form of radiation that penetrates the skin.
• When treated early, most skin cancers are curable. Melanoma is responsible for 75% of skin cancer deaths and its incidence has increased 1800%  since 1930.
• Avoid sun exposure especially between 10:00am and 4:00 pm.
• SPF 30 sunscreen still allows exposure to 3.3% of harmful UV-B rays,

This shawl won’t keep the sun out, but it will keep Cousin Lena warm at her daughter’s late September wedding in Denmark:

OK, I was going to write about how spectacular it is to live in British Columbia when the sun shines, but my children have hijacked this post. So, how do you sing the song? Is it an Eeensy Weensy Spider or is it an Itsy Bitsy One? I won’t even include the option of that curiously named knitting pattern called the Inky Dinky Spider. I’m an Eeensie Weensie person my children are Itsy-Bitsy people.

Next question: when you get to the line about "Out came the sun and dried up all the rain" do you sing it to the same tune as the first line of the song or do you start out with a higher note? My chidren and I differ on this point as well, but we’ve found web sites to support each version lyrics and tune-wise. 

This leads me to a test, I’ve heard about, to determine if you are from the metropolitan New York City area or from anywhere else in the world. I have a feeling you have to be older than the internet to have an accurate outcome to this test. Are you ready? Here’s the question: You are waiting to buy movie tickets. Fill in the blank: You are standing  __ line. New Yorkers over the age of 50 are more likely to be standing on line not in line.

Back to sunshine in British Columbia, this is why I live here:

Last night we met a couple who erroneously identified Ms. Grace as a Westie, not a Scottie, an identity error, in my husband’s family, akin to confusing a Dane for a Swede. No biggie, as far as I’m concerned. However, their Westie story beat any Scottie dog tales I could ever tell you. So, here we go…

Once upon a time there was a little Westie dog. This sweet little pupcake escaped from the house at a most inopportune time. Weeks later she developed a ravenous appetite and her belly appeared enlarged. Fearing the worst, her owners took her to the vet, explaining their theory of a clandestine canine tryst. An x-ray was ordered. A sense of relief filled the room when the vet explained that their poor pup was suffering from false pregnancy. He told them what to expect – the dog would continue to grow bellywise until one day she would return to her pre-pregnant appearance. Well that Westie grew and grew. She appeared as big as a doghouse. People asked when she was due and the owners explained her plight.

In the middle of one night the owners heard a yelp. They entered the room afraid to find their puppy had popped. Instead there was their White West Highland Terrier bedded with a wet black rat. Unable to make sense of the scene, the explanation followed in the form of a second black rat.

Five hours and an equivalent number of false puppies later, they piled the family into the car to pay a visit to their favourite vet. Puppy number six arrived in the car. While under examination in the vet clinic, number seven made its appearance. As they were leaving, the desk clerk mentioned an outstanding bill for an x-ray. "Right," they said, while struggling with their unpredicted pack, "you have a snowball’s chance in hell of collecting on that bill."  On the way home puppy number eight entered the world.

The owners have assured me that every detail is true, can you imagine? Coincidentally, today my sister sent me this photo of my niece and a friend’s Westie, Boogie:

I know there’s some knitting content here somewhere. Oh yes, this is my haul from Marilyn’s closing out sale in Bellingham, two skeins of Cherry tree hill sock yarn and two skeins of Zephyr. That store, in the best of times, caused me to go into sensory overload with their huge selection, and I always had difficulty making any purchasing decisions. News for those in the area – a new yarn shop will be opening soon in Barkley Village.

Once upon a time, new neighbours moved into the house next door. They were two men and their older mom, relatively new to Canada, buying their first house. Twice, Chuck observed them struggling to cut their grass with a weedeater. Being the nice neighbour that he is, every time Chuck mowed our lawn, he took the time to ow theirs as well. The neighbours were very appreciative. They ordered pizza to our house, mother brought us deliciously juicy chickens from Chinatown, and we’d receive beautiful tins of moon cakes for the Autumn Moon Festival. One son worked in a hat factory and the other in a candy warehouse. We had access to all the baseball caps and candy bars that we’d ever need. Good thing that son #3 didn’t live at home – he owned a pet store.

The week prior to our move, Chuck went  to help them with something in their garage. There stood a shiny lawnmower. "Oh," says Chuck, "you’ve bought yourselves a lawn mower." Their response? "Oh, we’ve always had a lawn mower, we could never get it started." Reminds me of the the adage – give a man a fish and he has a meal, teach a man to fish and he has food for life. That was one of those good long laughs I’ll never forget.

Knitting update: cousin Lena’s mother-of-the-bride shawl, with a mistake four rows from the top. It’s amazing what will show up in a picture.There’ll be some froggin’ happenin’ tonight.

OK, boomers, do you remember those sewing cards – cardboard pictures that came with a shoe lace type string that you wove in and out of little holes that outline the shape on the card?. I just saw them advertised as "old-fashioned" sewing cards. Yikes, how did I get to be this old?

How about Coco Marsh, the chocolate syrup, with the toy surprise under the cap? I saw an"antique" Coco Marsh ad in a store. Or Shake-a-Pudding? Or Ayds – the diet aid caramels that would supposedly curb your appetite? Those was a long time ago, but come on, they are no where near antique. Are we they?

When I was little and my mother talked about her childhood I couldn’t believe that she could remember that for back. What was I thinking?

We created some memories this weekend. Cousin Lena, here from Denmark, is preparing for her daughter’s Fall wedding. We visited Vancouver’s "Little India" yesterday and found this two-tone blue silk, for $10 a yard, destined to be her mother-of-the-bride dress. A trip to Birkeland Brothers yielded the Estelle Watercolour yarn so I can knit her a shawl for the special day. And one of Chuck’s dyed shawl pins is a perfect match for the yarn.