Life's a Stitch

Enough is enough

My Puerto Rican grandmother used to yell in exasperation, "Enough ees enough, too much ees too much." I'm with you, Grammy. Last week Chuck's finger had an altercation with the table saw (instant replay of earlier in the year when he put several fingers through the band saw). He got eight stitches and a round of antibiotics. Last night, he was in bad pain and I decided to get brave and look at it. Whoa. Bryant described it as reminiscent of the movie, Saw. Into the clinic today and right to the hospital, back on to IV antibiotics (another replay of earlier in the year when his knee was infected). Enough is definitely enough. I think he needs to ditch the woodworking and knit. Knitting needles are sharp, but you have relative control over them.

My oasis this past weekend  was a meet-up with other bloggers.  On Sunday, Nadia and I had the opportunity to meet up with Caro, a Vancouverite living in Texas, along with several other non-knitting people, bloggers and not. One had a shopping blog. Now there's a concept! I thought I was a shopper par excellence until, even I, got shopping tips from her. Shopping and blogging are a natural, but mix shopping and knit blogging and I'm in heaven. I bought a bit of Christine's stash on e-bay and can't wait for it to arrive. She creatively grouped a collection of like coloured yarn making it irresistible to stay away from her lot of pinks.

And finally, it's a wrap - C'est La Vie # deux. Two of these are enough for now. Two of the ruffles were almost too much. This one will be a gift.

Adverteasing

I've ordered the sweater from White Lies Designs for my daughter's wedding. She has convinced me to knit it although it won't fit properly over the sash of her wedding dress. She wants it so much she says she'll remove the sash! It's not like she won't be able to wear it after the wedding. We've decided to go for 3/4 length sleeves without cuffs.

While browsing White Lie's fabulous patterns, including lingerie, we came across an interesting typo in the description for a corset set. It says it "puts the fun in fuctional," leaving out the "n" in functional. A subliminal message? Check it out, see if it's still there. We wrote them an e-mail. It gave us a good giggle.

Here are some photos. The first is the third colour of yarn from the Yarn Co-op's Fleece Artist purchase, in a colourway called "Wild Flowers," a little pale, but pretty. Speaking pf pretty, the second is from a package from Leah of Knittin Pretty. She sent out thank you gifts to a number of people who made suggestions for baby patterns. You know my spring colours, thanks, Leah.

Don't worry, mother

I heard on the radio that more Goth kids grow up to be doctors and lawyers than conventional kids. They tend to be bookworms and are quite bright. The reporter said "Don't worry, mother, if your child doesn't resemble the one you gave birth to, be assured. One day he'll wash his face, pull out the piercings and lead a life you'll be proud of."  Not that my 15 yr old is Goth, he just has piercings and pink hair. The problem is that he is not a bookworm. I'm still worried. It's in my job description.

Knitting my worries away, this is my next shawl/wrap. I haven't decided what shape it's going to take. I have until it's 43" long to decide.

Thought I'd add this after checking my e-mail today. Did you get an e-mail, announcing Berrocco's current newsletter, that reads: "Free patterns for kids, babies and bags?" I'm not the grammar police, but it struck me as funny and reminded me of the book "Eats, Shoots and Leaves." How many bags are you knitting for?

A woman without a past...a dream come true

My father died when I was 16 requiring my small family to split up and scatter for a variety of reasons. I left my my home town the following year and never looked back. I always regretted not having a reference point to my growing up years. Others, who stayed behind, watched our classmates and cousins grow up; they had a life consistency I yearned for. I know, I know, it's not always a bed of roses to stay connected to your early years. Lacking that consistency in my own life, I crave biographies and life retrospective movies - A League of Their Own, Mr. Holland's Opus and the Dutch movie, Antonia's Line.

Recently though, I realized I had enough time in my 22 years in Canada to start having a past. When I'm at meetings I see people I've worked with for 20 years and think about how we have history together. It's nice.

This week I was reconnected to a link from my earlier years. One of my voice mail messages at work, upon returning from vacation, was from a co-worker from when I graduated from school in Nebraska. Funny thing is that I dreamt about her recently, so now I'm experiencing a dream come true. What a nice change from the year of M-I-L's death, my knee surgery, the wedding issue and a 15 yr old's nipple piercing. Thanks, Jackie, for reappearing into my life.

You know I had to fit knitting content in here somehow. Here I am, in about 1980 (half my life ago!) when I worked with Jackie, in the first sweater I ever knit. I'll bet that sweater, made from unbiodegradeable Wintuk Sayelle, is buried in some landfill somewhere.

Galveston Oh Galveston

In Galveston, there may not be any yarn shops, but they have unique names for streets:

Scenic overlooks with cute dogs. Doesn't he look like his head belongs on a different body:

Interesting ways to earn a living:

An opportunity for a night out on the town with two 15 yr olds:

A great way to get around the city:

And plenty of time to start a new shawl on the flight back:

Thanks to all for the birthday wishes and encouragement. I'm behind on responding to comments, but I want you to know they are all appreciated.

Now, how many of "y'all" have that Galveston song stuck in your head?

Haven't found any yarn shops

Haven't found any yarn shops, but boy do they have sky in Texas. For you, Sandy, with love from Texas!                                                                     

               

Distractions like these make turning 50 something today a lot easier. Really, how did I get to be this old?

Houston, we have a problem

Upon our arrival in Houston we experienced problems with our navigational system. It's not the latest model, in fact she's a classic, a 1954 Li, who didn't consult a map, but listened to two different people who told me to head out on Rt 59 north and connect to Rt 45 south. Huh? 45 miles later the highway ended.

I chalk it up to exhaustion. After 24 hours travelling with two 15 year old boys we had arrived at the Houston Airport. We're doing a house and car exchange and were told that the car was parked on the second level of the C terminal. The elevator indicated that parking C2 was actually on the 4th level. This, in a city that housed Ground Control for NASA? An hour later we found the car and headed north on 59.

We made it to Galveston, a few hours late, and took it easy this morning on the deck where I  finished the first half of the ruffle on the second C'est LaVie.

The boys are having a grand time. You know you're in Texas when two teenage girls from next door swing by to check out the two Canadian teen boys - on their horses.

To weave or not to weave

That is the question. Here are two yarns that I have held together both in knitting and weaving:

I like the softer look and feel of the knitting.

I like the speed at which a woven project can be completed and the way the colours fall.

Same yarns, different outcomes. Which do I like better? Maybe I'll make one of each. I'm a fiber politician! Any opinions out there?

It's spring break and Bryant and I are headed off to Galveston with his friend and his mom for the week. It will be a good way to recover from marathon wedding planning. Added to the stress of the week was a phone call we received yesterday morning letting us know that my daughter's car had been stolen in Edmonton. Thanks to all of you for your wonderful words of encouragement this week.

I'll try to post from Texas. Have a good weekend.

Of dreams lost and found

My baby is betrothed. Officially. She has a ring on her finger. Never mind the fact that she is eight years younger than the average age of first marriage for women in our province, currently at age 30. It's interesting, long lost high school classmates have started calling in disbelief. Two have called to commiserate; having parents who aren't excited about their impending commitment. One because of his fiancee's nationality, another because she has only dated her intended for eight months. Throw in our concern about future son in law's student status, the common denominator is the age factor.

A step in the right direction: I found a great book for mothers of the bride called "It's her wedding I can cry if I want to." A humorous approach to serious issues. The author says that I have to give up my dreams and let her live hers. When, in your eyes your daughter is too young, even if you're 75 and she's 40, nobody is going to fit the bill. Ever.

Reality check: what's the worst that can happen? It's difficult letting our kids own their own problems. But once you're there might as well enjoy the ride. So here I am, the MOB (Mother of the bride) with the MOG (Mother of the groom) discovering bejeweled cowgirl hats at a wedding shop south of the border. I imagine that a few dreams were given up and created at a wedding where they wear these.

And here she is, trying on her future dreams. And look at that wee one from another wedding party in the background of the second shot. Watch out, mama, you'll get your turn. The knitting content? My DD asked me to knit her a wedding cardigan. She knows how to keep Mom happy.

Chuckles

My sister and I had running e-mails going on the candy of our youth.  Admittedly we are children of the 60's, but there seems to be a resurgence of middle age sweet tooth memories. I've seen more than one candy shop catering to the memories of those who fall into our demographic.

The other night I was indulging in one of my German black licorice fish coated in salt and sugar and instantly was taken back to times my dad and I went to the barber together and were given Chuckles. For you young folk, in case they are not still around, Chuckles have the consistency of gum drops, but were rectangular in shape, about 1.5 inches by an inch. Like Lifesavrs, they were packaged in order of flavour. I always got the cherry one, green for Dad, yellow for me, and my dad and I would split the black one. 

How about Charms, Lifesavrs' competitor. Only they  were individually wrapped in cellophane and had grape as one of the flavours.

Or Luden's cherry cough drops, an excuse to eat candy in class if you had a note from your  mom saying they were for medicinal purposes?

Or the Catholic child's experience of playing Communion with Necco Wafers?

Oh, those were the days. Do you have a favourite candy memory?

Here is some yarn that reminds me of pink cotton candy. It's Ingenue mohair. They also have licorice, cherry and lime... I'm using it, paired with Fonty Jamaique, to weave a scarf.