Life's a Stitch

Oh Dear, bread and beer

Spending time with my sisters-in-law has brought back memories of mother-isms, sayings unique to their mother. I remember her saying "Oh dear, bread and beer if I hadn't have married,I wouldn't be here." Nobody knows the origins of that one, possibly song lyrics, but I've been known to say it now and then.

Their other momism were words that were expressed when things went well for while, like a series of green lights when you're driving. Or a 31 row repeat without forgotten yarn over's. She'd say "You must have been holding your tongue straight."

I was listening to CBC Radio around Mother's Day. The on-the-street reporter asked, "What words of your mother's do you still have in your head." If you asked my kids, they'd probably say, "Little children who know how to read can never be bored."

Or "I want never gets." Remember that one, Auntie Ellen? You borrowed that one from me and I used your "Ask one more time and you won't get it." My eldest, at age four, wanted gum. She asked for it over and over again. Auntie Ellen used her magic phrase and niece replied, "I want.......(long pause)...a sail boat." It still cracks us up.

Having company here means good food. No bread and beer for us. Cousin Lena from Denmark was responsible for last night's dinner. There's a salmon fillet under the mushrooms, lime, scallions and dill, along with a yogurt garlic dill sauce, and an avocado salad:

 

25 Years Later

Once upon a time, long ago and far away, I was dating this guy. After a few times out he told me ``If you are going to get serious with me you have to move to a little place called Lion`s Bay, British Columbia." Why, you ask? No political motivation at all, as many assume, it was just because it was a pretty place.

"Oh," thinking about it for a second or two, "OK," I agreed enthusiastically. I was optimistic about the relationship and this raised-outside-of-NY-City girl could deal with anything.

As an aside, that picture is the Canadian flag reflected in the windows of the vehicle next to us on the soon-to-be-defunct free Albion Ferry (Maple Ridge to Fort Langley, BC). They've built a toll bridge to replace it. Go figure. I'm sad about it.

We weighed our worldly goods knowing that it would cost fifty cents a pound to transport them the 1749 miles from Omaha. Heavy, small, sentimental items accompanied us in our car.We crossed the border as permanent residents 25 years ago on Friday. Nearly half a lifetime ago.

Well, the anything, referred to above, included a bear trap on our road, long distance calls if the police were needed and church services provided by a travelling minister. We heated our house with wood and back then the nearest grocery store was a half hour away. We couldn't go food shopping without a carsick child. Those twisty roads have now been straightened somewhat in time for the upcoming Winter Olympics.

You wouldn't think a move across the border to an English speaking country would be any big deal. I was homesick for months and once had an irrational meltdown trying to convert gallons to litres, Canadian dollars to American, and miles to kilometres. Silly me. It wasn't about the math.

Back then there was huge anti-American sentiment and being an invisible minority was disconcerting. You wouldn't believe the ignorant comments about "those Americans" without the realization that one might be in their midst. I had practice though, from my childhood, when people would talk about those Puerto Ricans, not knowing it was half my heritage.

Little by little things got better. I found a job and populated the country with two more little Canadian/Americans. The country warmed to Bill Clinton's America. In the beginning I didn't feel like I belonged here. Then there were some rocky times where I didn't feel like I belonged in the US. But now I've found a place for my dual nationality and Bob's your uncle, eh? Remember when I wrote about that?

Now it's double my pleasure. I get teary when hearing either anthem, both flags inspire me. I like poutine as much as Nathan's Famous frankfurters, junk foods at their best. We share in the sadness of all North American soldiers lost, too many these days. I have three children who have the luxury of working in two countries without the barriers of immigration. And I'm still with that guy, although after four years, I made him move closer to the city - the one that's regularly voted the most livable in the world.

The immigrants:

The reluctant knitter - a dilemma

For this project, at least. Do you get those, when you hit a sticking point where you just can't go on? Having completed Hanami's 31 row repeat seven times, I was anxious to move on to the simpler straight knitting with y/o's disbursed at a reasonable rate.

It was easy enough but I didn't like it one bit, the y/o's leaving little ladders to form above each eyelet. I know I'm speaking knittish, so if you're here to catch up you might as well move on. This is heavy knitting content.

Paid a visit to Ravelry, that blog quasher, but very helpful in this type of dilemma. Most every Hanami pictured, especially those made with drapey silky yarns, had a severe laddering issue in the eyelet phase. Even the designer's photo illustrates the problem.

Frogged back a ways, about three hours worth, and to tighten things up a bit, tried a twisted stitch directly above the eyelet. Meh. the fabric is so slippy that the background tends to slide into chronic occasional unevenness.

Someone tell me what to do, it's exhausting and headache provoking. I go from picking it up thinking it's not so bad, and it really isn't, to maybe I should stick to the dreaded basket weave for the entire piece. Then I put it down and walk away.

Then I come back with a solution - I'll step up the frequency of the eyelets so there isn't as much contrast against the stockinette. Then I think, maybe I should bite the bullet and buy that new camera so you can really see what I'm taking about. I know, I should follow my husband's advice from way back, when I was his student of stained glass, "The artist is her own worst critic."

Did you know that one definition of dilemma is an equally unpleasant or undesirable choice?

Will sing for knitting bags

This time vacation karaoke was fun. No Idol wannabes, just people having a good time making fools of ourselves. Picked to sing a duet with a Scotsman in a white tuxedo, I was rewarded with a bag, perfect for large projects:

 

In Juneau, I increased the numbers in my bag collection:

Not generally a lap sitter, I think my real "red dog" was happy to see me:

The scent of a woman

Picked up my Hanami, and Chuck observes, "You're working on your 'Oh Crap' again." I guess that's all I say out loud when it's in my hands. Hanami, in silk and toothpicks, is not a knitting while talking, watching TV or drinking wine kind of project.

I reach the end of the row and take in a big sigh, catching a whiff of the yarn. I remark it smells like silk and clean cruise ship cabin. Chuck takes in a breath of it and replies, "No, it smells like you and (Blogless) Marsha ."

"I don't think Marsha and I wear the same scent."

"Yes you do - yarn."

Out of the mouths of men...

For those fellow Oh Crap knitters, you probably observed the provisional cast on in blue. Taking some artistic license, I've elected to repeat Hanami's little ruffle on both ends. Beads, however small, seemed too heavy for the yarn.

More vacation pictures, Blogless Marsha and I in Sitka and feeling Alaskan sunset giddy, all dressed up sporting Eau de Yarn:

 

Who'd have thought?

Alaska for a vacation in the sun? We live in Vancouver, home port for summer Alaskan cruises and have hosted many visitors in advance of their ship boarding. Everyone gives themselves the same pep talk - it's not a sun vacation, hopefully there will be enough lifting of the fog to view the glaciers and mountain tops.

We've been twice, another advantage of living in a home port, those last minute and resident-only deals. Six years ago to within a day, cancellations as the result of the SARS scare gave us our first opportunity. Six cool, sunny and one cloudy day produced the perfect trip. So this time, with an even better deal, we gave ourselves the familiar talk. Even if it rains every day, it won't matter as we've already seen the sights, and the price was well worth the opportunity to sit back and relax.

Who'd have thought? The weather was better than in Hawaii. Six days with 18 hours of sunshine. The onboard naturalist said it was the best weather week he had experienced in ten years of cruise ship lecturing. 

Sitka:

Hubbard Glacier:

Ketchikan:

My new happy place:

Vacation knitting - a portable project

Seduced by the outcome (refer to last post) of knitting thread with toothpicks I thought I'd push the envelope with thinner yarn and narrower needles yet (see two posts ago). This is Hanami in progress:

Seven 31 row repeats from hell, followed by calm waters, perfect cruise knitting. Reminds me of the Mediterranean/Trans-Atlantic voyage of my not so distant past. Six days of 100 kilometers per hour of sustained oceanic winds (the captain gently referring to them as "breezes"), followed by five days of absolute calm, even at 1200 miles in the middle of the Atlantic. At its worst, it sounded like we were on a freight train, hitting an occasional wall. As the ship would shake in an unpredictable shudder, one travelling companion would reassure me with these words: "speed bump."

I view my travel opportunities as I do my yarn purchases - better get in what I can now, because there's no way I'll be able to afford them in retirement. It's off to Alaska we go, with my knitting buddy, Blogless Marsha, a reunion of our Alaska cruise six years ago to within a day.  See you in a week.