awayuq

my world cup experience

At a decent hour this morning I got on a bus in Lima and for a change, it was a direct service which means that now, early afternoon, I am in Ica where I will stay for the next 10 days or so doing work at a museum. There was some kind of conference at this hotel over the weekend, and all the rooms were full. There weren't any ready for check in when we arrived. So I'm sitting on a large patio watching people eat late lunch from an impressive buffet. There is sun here! It's enough to make me wish I'd brought a short sleeved shirt. But the really funny thing, which makes me smile as I wait, is that just behind me the hotel set up a curtained room with a huge tv screen so that guests can watch the World Cup. We're now 2/3 through the first half. Most of the time, the sounds are of lunch table conversation, children screaming in the pool (yes there's a pool, and a water slide, I'm going to try it see if I don't!) and the rattle of silverware. However, every so often, there comes a huge ROAR from the secret curtained room and all the waiters that don't actually have their hands full go running towards the door to peek in. It's hilarious. One moment they are obseqious and staid, then comes a roar and they become little boys dressed up in navy slacks and ties craning their necks to see what happened.

Not much fiber stuff happening so far. I knit half a sock on the plane and have started a lace shawl for the third time. I think I finally chose the right size needles.

And by the way, this patio, the pool, the buffet--all highly unusual for my Peruvian travels. I think we're getting some kind of discounted rate. In any event, this is a rare experience and I intend to enjoy it as much as possible. Good thing I brought my bathing suit.

bounty of books

It's getting to that time of year when there comes a need to choose books to travel with. Travel books should not be too big or heavy, but they can't be fluff on the interior or they are used up too quickly. I'm a fast reader and it takes quite a lot of printed words to get me through a month away. I'm not adverse to reading classics on a trip, but they have to be interesting enough that they are relaxing and help distract me from other stresses. Over the past few years I've come to feel a great fondness for give away books: those that are good enough to read, but not so important that they have to come home with me. I love reading a book on a journey, finishing it, and then leaving it for some other lonely English-speaking traveler to find. However, my miserly self demands that pristine books that cost over a certain amount shouldn't be treated in this way.

Imagine my delight, then, when walking into the office this morning I passed not one but three cardboard boxes on the floor in the hallway, all filled with old books free for the taking. Lots of them were not traveling books by any means (who wants to be burdened with a lot of theological philospohy on a trip!) but I found some fiction including Garrison Keillor and Charles Dickens. Free books can be discarded with no regrets whatsoever. There's more: this afternoon I passed a bookstore with racks of $1 books set up on the sidewalk and found another two or three, including one by Daphne DuMaurier which I've already read but long enough ago that it doesn't matter. DuMaurier should make perfect trip reading. Does anyone else remember when you could routinely get used paperbacks for $2-$3? And now used ones are $7 and up!

What I really want is to stay home and do crafty things all summer. But if I must travel, it's good to know I'll have plenty of discardable words to take with me.

studio saturday morning

works in progress

filing system for works in the queue.

another deep breath.

You know how sometimes everything is ok, and then you hear something or get some news and all of a sudden you feel as if you were in an elevator and someone jerked the cable? I’m having one of those moments.

There’s really no excuse for it. When I became a student I knew things would be financially precarious. The project I work for just got some news about the most recent grant we applied for. We got funding, but at a greatly reduced rate. They suggest a summer “salary” for me--that would be JuneJulyAugusthalfofSeptember -- that about matches my monthly expenses. I’m trying not to panic. After all, it is a good thing to get funded at all, and it’s not like there are no coffee shops in my neighborhood; worst comes to worst, I’ll dredge up the 15-year old experience making mochas and plead. There’s no reason to panic, yet. Things will work out.

I guess what’s getting to me is that lack of financial security brings up so many issues for me. It reminds me in a gut-wrenching way that I am the only thing between me and poverty. It’s just me--no husband, no generous boyfriend, no rich aunt or uncle. It’s true that I have relatives who have helped me a great deal in crises and I’m very grateful for their assistance. But they can’t support me continually and I pray I never have to ask it of them. Ever since I started working at 15 I’ve been terrified of ending up a bag lady. One of those women with a shopping cart who has no home, no heat, just the sidewalks and the trash she picks up. Or, maybe worse, one of the invisible elderly we pack away into terrible “homes” that smell of urine and tinned green beans. I’m more than a decade older than other people in my program, and I feel so out of step. What I want to be doing right now is creating a safe, domestic haven for a partner and children. Not happening. I thought by this time in my life I’d be thinking about college savings for my children, not me. It also reminds me what a gamble grad school is. I’m in a field where jobs are notoriously scarce. Of course I value intellectual endeavor. Of course I value scholarship, and academic freedom, and ok go ahead, accuse me of being an intellectual snob: I like being around smart people. But a sudden potential gap in the income spectrum makes me wonder: is it worth losing retirement funding for this? Is grad school reducing my statistically already negligible chances of finding a long-term partner? Is it worth having no savings, no financial cushion, and potentially no skills that are marketable in a non-academic world? I have to keep reminding myself that I can find a way to market myself; I’ve done it before, I did it right out of undergrad when I had significantly fewer skills than I have now. I’m going to do my best not to decline into an impoverished, lonely old age. But it is scary. And all of the uncertainty reminds me forcibly that I really don’t like where I am living. For what’s available, I have a good situation, I realize that; but I hate living in the city. And excuse me, a place with more than 19,000 people per square mile is a city, I don’t care what New Yorkers say. Yes, you read that right; my non-city city is the fifth densest populated in the US as of the last census. My mortgage is quite high. Sometimes I think about selling my condo, but the fact is that rents aren’t much cheaper, and I initially bought so that at least I’d be putting a pittance towards equity. Not to panic, but a close neighbor with a comparable place has had it on the market for a year now, and it hasn’t sold yet. Which doesn’t make me any more confident about being able to realize that equity should I need to.

So... a perfect time to go back to the Om sweater. It now looks like a sweater, no? I’m down to the body part. Now I’m just worried about running out of yarn. I’ve already used three skeins of 10. I’m trying to judge how far I can go... I think one skein might be enough for each sleeve. Which would leave me four for the rest of the body and one for a collar. That should be enough, but I think I’ll start on a sleeve next to see how far I get. I may have to alter the plans; I wanted a shawl collar. I could live with 3/4 sleeves, if it comes down to it. I could add bordering stripes of a different color if it turns out to be really scanty, but I hope I won’t have to.

I liked the sleeve increases and wanted to echo them in the side and underarm “seams”. To keep the stitch count even I have to border them with a pair of decreases. It’s simple, but harmonious. I like it; it keeps this sweater basic but still interesting enough to endure knitting.

And finally--thanks everyone for your kind comments on the doll couture. I’ll let her know :)

something to watch

My Mom has a blog!

croneway

Mom is a knitter and a weaver of Navaho Rugs. She is trained in massage therapy, zero balancing, and other mind-body techniques I don't know the proper names for (I should remedy that). She is a practicing bhuddist and makes a mean frozen chocolate mousse. My Mom travels with her awesome partner of many years, and loves the annual sailing trip in the Carribean. She loves opera, good books, and anything yummy to eat. She is definitely an extrovert and has a flair for the dramatic--she has spent many hours in and around theatrical productions of all sorts.

And she is a polio survivor.

I've been encouraging my mom to get a blog for a while now, because she has a great gift for communication, and she works so hard to live with the results of her childhood disease. We don't hear much about polio these days, because it is supposedly eradicated. Adults who survived childhood polio face a myriad of trials as they age. Often they experience impaired mobility and lots of pain. I know there are others out there who can benefit from my mother's knowledge and experience. I am very proud of her for setting sail into the blogging world.

So please, if you have a chance, watch her site and leave a friendly comment if you see something that appeals to you. And if you know of other polio survivors, please pass the word to them.

I love you Mom!

take your needles to class

Over thanksgiving, I hope to finish the border on the "Summer from Kansas" shawl. Over the past month or so I've been taking it to lectures and I was surprised last week to find that I was nearly done with the body. And now I am really done with the body, and on to the edging, which just goes to show you that a few moments are never wasted even if they are between scribbling notes on statistical techniques and the Maya collapse. Given the long weekend, maybe I'll even have pictures! Amazing how much more quickly things grow on #6 needles, compared to size 0.

I really miss my blog. The irony is that I have a lot to say-- you know, new characters, funny stories, new ideas, and so on. Most of it is not textile related and when I opened this space I told myself this would be truly focussed on textiles, since my interests there are wide-ranging enough to be entirely confusing anyway. I'm tempted to write at length about grad school in another space. a) it would help me get it off my chest b) it might be helpful to other older students struggling with this adjustment. But a lot of the incidents and characters are recognizeable and one of the points about writing is that I don't want to censor too much. How do you deal with such things? Do you, as a blogger, have concerns that people you describe will be recognized and that this might reflect badly on you? Do you have private, password-protected blogs for particular friends? How do you deal with the line between cyber-anonymity and possible real-life acquaintance?

what happened?

Several things. Most notably, I took my Dad to Europe. He has his 70th birthday this summer, and I'm going to be gone on the actual date, so this was a Father's Day/Happy Birthday gift from me to him.
Here we are at our last dinner together in Paris. Dad is by nature a rather unemotive person, but I am pretty sure he had a good time. He had never been out of North America before, so this was a very special occasion. We spent time in Paris and in Prague (our name is Czech and we had long talked about visiting the Czech Republic). Other travelers might have seen twice as many things as we did in the same amount of time, but we were happy just being together and exploring new places.

After he flew home, I stayed in Europe. My boss arrived and we did some museum work for a couple weeks, in Holland and in Sweden. I'd like to mention that the Museum of Worldculture in Göteborg, Sweden, has a fantastic collection of Peruvian textiles. Also a sophisticated storage system, with large aluminum frames and screens so that all the textiles can lie flat. We were only able to see a few examples, but it was enough to make me want to go back! There was a long long braided belt with a fancy interlacing color pattern; lots of embroidery, and an incredible mantle made entirely out of cross-knit looping.

Because of all this travel, planning for it beforehand, finishing up a semester of Spanish class and miscellaneous other things, creative production has been pretty much at a standstill. I did make two dresses for the trip, out of crazy polyester prints. It's really true, polyester dries quickly and doesn't wrinkle! However, sewing it is like trying to tie a knot in an eel, and wearing it is something I'd only do for short periods of time, or when utility overrides comfort, as when traveling. An additional reason for the lack of postings is that a long-submerged obsession is once again prominent in my life. I'll show you a small example:

This is Elsi in Prague, wearing a new handstitched dress. I've been exercising my pattern drafting and handsewing skills on small clothes for small characters. I'd forgotten how much I love it. On the trip I did sewing instead of knitting in the evenings and found it relaxing and rewarding. Many feelings are at work in me about this-- one of the primary ones is "you should be ashamed of yourself, playing with dolls at your age!" To which I say... Well, you know, it's actually a lot harder than it appears to draft patterns for tiny bodies and make clothes that hang right and aren't too bulky and all that. Besides which, there is a long tradition of adult women costuming dolls for various reasons: as momentos of special occasions, to replicate precious outfits for nostalgia's sake, or as models to distribute fashion examples to others. I am very picky about my dolls, and their clothes must meet high standards, so in fact this "play" is quite a challenge. And I get to practice pattern drafting in manageable sizes.

That's the nutshell version of the recent past. Looking ahead, I'll be home for a couple weeks, and then gone for probably two months. This time I'll be in a remote village without e-mail access, without even postal mail, so blogging will be highly irregular and regrettably infrequent. However, I appeal to all my friends to be patient, because come fall I'm going to have a lot to say!

it's a fish shoal

Whenever it gets quiet on this blog, it is not because nothing is happening, but because lots is happening. This spring I don't have much textile progress to report. The lengthy silences correspond to periods of investigation, internal debate, uncertainty, and intense negotiating. With the end result that last week I signed on a (solid) line, sent my form in, and:

I will be starting graduate school this September.

What! Yes, I kept it very quiet, I didn't even tell my mother I applied. It was such a long shot that if it didn't come through I wanted the whole thing to dissolve with a minimum of fuss. As it turned out, I got in (one of 4 out of 50!) and I'm sure all the deities are chuckling. I will be starting a PhD program in archaeology at that big H school in Cambridge, MA. As a child, I once thought for about three months that it would be cool to be an archaeologist, and then I forgot all about it. Archaeology never occurred to me again until I met some archaeologists, and even then I had no desire to be one of them. I have no background in archaeology, have never even taken a course in it. It just happens to be the department where the person I want to work with teaches, so I guess that makes me an archaeologist.

Many people have given me exuberant congratulations, but I confess I'm still stunned and overwhelmed. Not the most positive kind of overwhelmed, not the oh-I-just-won-a-prize kind, but the overwhelmed that comes with making major life changes. Can I afford to keep paying my mortgage? (no) Will I be able to work while I'm in school? (thank goodness, yes, that was the negotiating part) Is this really what I want to do? (still unclear) How do I really feel about never having a summer again in the forseeable future, since I'll be spending June July and August south of the Equator? (not so great) How am I going to face being in classes with people ten years younger than me? What am I going to do with a PhD in archaeology anyway??

On the positive side, I'm hoping to be able to do a lot of textile research, and keep looking at the collections in the museum where I've been working. I am enthusiastic about my topic (khipu) so I hope I'll be able to grind my way through the pottery shards and bone fragments and get to the good stuff without too much turmoil. I'll be able to stay involved with the project I've been working on for the past three years, which is great, since you never know if the grant money for a full-time salary will come through.

All this figuring and negotiating and deciding is why textile pursuits have been hushed for a while. Now that the decision is made, I hope to get my head up again and start playing with yarn.

reappearance

Some of you have been so kind as to wonder where I have been. The answer is: right here, enduring the buffets of life. And, in recent days, transforming chaos

into (relative) order:

My closet is still too small, but at least it's better. Now that all the current home organization projects are done, it's time to move on to actually doing things in the new space. First some socks which were finished a while ago and have been complaining because they didn't get their moment of fame.
They are very nice socks, very warm, perfect for the the kind of day we had today, snow falling for hours and hours. That's my grandmother's rug, by the way. My mother wants you to know. Big Blue Orenburg is getting a little more attention lately. My current listening favorites are old radio mysteries from the 1940's. Could this be linked to my recent discovery of Brenda Starr? In any event, here's an image of Big Blue; you can just make out the center squares which are beginning to close up.

It's still very relaxing, orenburg is not very difficult lace; but as usual, I'm dreaming of all the luscious things I could start if only this one were finished. I'm longing to try the circular daffodil pattern from "Modern Lace Knitting" in--you guessed it-- yellow.

Before that though, I need to give a weaving demonstration for a class tomorrow. Since I haven't done it in a while, I decided I'd better make a small warp and see if I still remember how it's done.

Phew. That wasn't so hard. Thank goodness I can still do the basics.

Finally, there is a sort of indirect result of the great studio clean up. In going through all the boxes of stuff I found this girl, along with some half-finished clothes that I'd started oh so long ago. You would not believe how small I can handstitch when I have a mind to. Perhaps I should say could, since I haven't tried to replicate these tiny rolled hems in a long time. Anyway, in my lust for tidying up, I decided one evening to just finish the darned dress for goodness sakes! I found some lace tucked away in a drawer which made it more fun. Now she's fully clothed again, hand-worked buttonholes and all.

By the way, when I went looking for a brown-haired sister for this girl, I found that these dolls are not produced any more, and the ones in existence appear to be getting quite valuable. Guess I'll hang onto her for a while....

friday gripes.

Ok. I’m a positive person, really. But right now I am about ready to scream. The next “however”, “thereby”, “as well as”, or contorted dependent clause that comes into my view is going to get pounced on, shaken, and wrung to within a frail millimeter of its life. Yes I am a gentle peace-loving soul! But bad writing is rubbing me the wrong way today.

Here’s the story. My boss and I are co-authoring an article. I’m very happy to be co-author, good for my list of publications, etc etc. And I did discover the stuff, so I don’t think it’s outrageous. He wrote the first version, and I made all the figures. I proofread it of course, but I didn’t quibble because I know what his writing style is like and, well, I didn’t want to get into it.

However. In the fullness of time came the discussion of where this thing should be published. “Oh no!” I hear one day from the inner sanctum. “We can’t submit it to xyz journal because they won’t consider anything over 10,000 words.” There followed a panic-stricken (on his part) and conciliatory (on my part) discussion about options. Finally I ventured to suggest that “you know, if it really should go in that journal, I’d be happy to try cutting it down. With all due respect, your style is verbose (yes I actually said that!) and I bet we could get it under 10,000 words.”

There it rested, on my promise. The original was almost 15,000 words. In a day or so I got it down to 9,779, preserving import and intelligibility. Great! He didn’t like parts of it, “too abrubt”, but given the constraints of the journal, everything seemed set. And I was much happier with the style.

I digress here to explain how I made that tremendous cut in the prose. It was not by eliminating entire sections. It was not by restructuring the argument. It was not by substituting words of 18 syllables for 8 words of one syllable. No. The process was in fact simple:

1. Remove parenthetical clauses which do not add to the argument.
2. Remove phrases surrounded by dashes, as they interrupt the flow and can be incorporated in other ways.
3. Remove lists of synonyms and use one good word.
4. Remove sentences that repeat each other; combine into one sentence.
5. Remove meaningless phrases such as: inasmuchas, as well as, thereby, on the one hand, on the other hand, thus, see below, at this point, in respect to, however, therefore, regarding, it is important to note that, in fact, that is, indeed, we suggest that, e.g., etc.

Trick 5 accounted for half of the cuts, the rest was achieved through condensing what was left using tricks 1-4.

Yesterday my boss got a call from a friend and the article now has a home in a book soon to be published. Hooray! Good news. The book, however, has no word limit on submissions. Guess what? Yep. That’s right. He took the pared-down (dare I suggest much clearer, more concise, and easier to read?) version and *started adding everything back in*. Then, this afternoon, he lays it on my desk and says ok, put in these changes.

I had to take a break and go for a walk. I don’t know why I get so upset by contorted prose. I should just let it be. However, whenever someone in fact edits my changes—and, as a result, makes “corrections” that are exactly what I was trying to avoid—I get, as well as irritated, profoundly frustrated, grumpy, and, indeed, angry. (see above). That is, were I to suggest alterations or adjustments to an article (e.g., the one described above), thereby improving the clarity of the argument, or narrative, I become on the one hand grieved, and on the other hand outraged, to find all of my changes with respect to intelligibility nullified, or obviated, by a careless scattering of irrelevant fluff.

Ergo, as my father would say, schmergo. Had to vent somewhere. What I need is one of those old fashioned carpet-beaters, and a carpet to beat.

miscellaneous updates

I think I prefer invisible zippers to the other kind. No matter how I try, I don't get good results with a regular zipper. The opening always seems sloppy. I was struggling with this yesterday, inserting zippers into pants and a skirt of heavy corduroy. I'd like to think that the weight of the fabric was part of the problem, but even so, I've got to figure out a way to make it easier and neater or else it's invisibles for me, all the time.

The second leaf sock has just had its heel turned and is beginning gusset decreases.

Be warned, when you do wash yards of wool fabric in the machine, that even if you take it out carefully you will later discover little drifts of wool fiber all over the room. They dissasociate themselves mysteriously and wander into the corners. This will always happen to be the day after you've mopped the house.

And finally-- I can hardly contain myself! My boss just bought us plane tickets. For Lima. For January. Two and a half weeks. The project is incredible and important and exciting. But aside from the work, do you realize what this means? Instead of suffering through a "summer" of gurua fog and clammy cold and greyness, there will be sun and warmth! I'll be inside working all day, but still. I'll get to wear summer clothes. Short sleeves! Skirts! Sandals! There are even beaches. Imagine, a trip to Peru during which I won't be freeze-dried and lack enough warm socks and always be adding another wool sweater to the bundle which is me. I can hardly conceive of it.

already crazy

I ventured out of work this afternoon to pick up a prescription and after that errand was completed, I thought I might step into a bookstore as well. When I got into the store, I could hardly move for all the toddlers underfoot. Beware of large parents with umbrellas who move suddenly in pursuit of their offspring. Ok, it was a children's bookstore, so what can I expect? I wandered over to Crate & Barrel thinking I'd check out some kitchen wares in a leisurely way, maybe find a nice pie pan for tomorrow. I don't truly need another pie pan. But you know...

Nothing leisurely about it. More vocal children, about knee height; lots of baby carriers, lots of people, long lines at every register. Is this the unofficial prelude to the official biggest shopping day of the year? Grocery stores, yes; wouldn't go near one today. But bookstores? Oh well.

For me, this Friday is Buy Nothing Day. A day on which I celebrate not having to purchase anything at all, and give thanks for having everything I need and more. From now until the beginning of the year, I shop as infrequently as possible and spend as little as possible. I like to eat well on certain special days, but I don't need more *stuff* and neither does anyone I know. I'd rather be creating something than spending money.

This is not to imply that I'm a grinch. I don't walk around with a sour face grumbling at the consumer merriment. I just choose not to partake. What I do like to do is bake. Tomorrow I'm making bread rolls from my Granmother's recipe and two pies to bring to the family that invited me for Thanksgiving. (I'm a little nervous about the cherry pie, since I make it so rarely...) Later this weekend I intend to revive a personal tradition that has been lost for several years: making fruitcakes.

Wait! Before you say "eeeeeeeewwww, fruitcake! yuck!" let me describe my kind of fruitcake:

no yucky candied fake fruit, meaning
no unrealistic neon colors
no preservatives.
not dry
not too sweet.

instead,

a blend of real dried fruit (organic when possible: raisins figs dates apricots cranberries prunes)
lots of hazelnuts and walnuts
molasses and honey
moist and dark
infused with good rum.

I procured the rum last night and I'm sure there'll be some left to make my mother's rum ball cookie recipe, a fondly remembered childhood treat. With the fruitcake endeavor, a studio full of projects, and books overflowing the shelves, I project a satisfying long weekend. And I'm grateful.

after despair...

It’s useless to try to hide the fact that I’m disappointed. The last couple of days will have a long-reaching effect for the United States and possibly for the world; and at present I’m dubious of positive outcomes. However:

I am very, very grateful to everyone who voted. Thank you. Record turnouts, a better picture of voting America than we’ve had in my lifetime. No matter who we voted for, it befits us to remember that this race was close. That may be cause for hope or for frustration, but at the very least it should help us remember that different viewpoints exist and that we need to take them seriously. Even if we’re on the winning side.

I am tremendously grateful to all the volunteers everywhere who spent months campaigning passionately.

I am enormously proud of my father in Ohio, who worked tirelessly from March through yesterday helping his chosen candidates, from country commissioner to the presidential nominees. He walked streets, attended parades, handed out information, volunteered at the polls. Tuesday night he sat with his local candidates and volunteers and not one of the people they were hoping for won. That’s a hard night.

My brother has proven to be a real support and blessing. We live on opposite coasts and rarely see each other. Yesterday he sent me wonderful words of encouragement and hope for our generation.

I’m grateful to everyone who voices their views reasonably and is willing to engage in debate. Let’s keep it going.

I’m remembering my elementary school teacher, one of the most amazing women in the world, who instilled in me a life-long love of reading and learning, along with an appreciation for people of all religions and skin tones. She gave me the roots which allow me to open my mind without fear. May there be millions more like her. Thanks to good teachers everywhere, the kind that instill curiosity rather than doctrine. Thanks to those who teach how to evaluate, rather than just accept.

Friends from other countries are precious to me, for their opinions and perspectives from the wider world. The USA *is* a part of a wider world, and it’s useful for us to listen to what the rest of the world thinks of us. We might be surprised how little it coincides with our view of ourselves.

Thank you to the courageous people who speak out about their sexuality. To the brave people who report racial injustice, sexual discrimination, and religious intolerance. Thanks to the citizens who are passionate about a cause, and work hard to find information that doesn’t make it to the mainstream in order to keep the rest of us aware.

The human race has been blessed with a number of spiritual leaders through history. Many teach that love is more important than fear; that forgiveness is a better paradigm for life than violence. I am grateful for their example.

Humans have done many terrible things and survived. Today I choose to remember some of the better things: the Parthenon. Poetry. Champagne. Scrabble. Old barns. Symphonies. ArtDeco skyscrapers. Impressionist paintings. Velvet. Literature, from Homer to Harry Potter. Plumbing. Jazz, dancing, and apple pie. Honest belly-wrenching laughter.

And some things that aren’t a part of humanity at all: the sound of raindrops. Majestic mountains and tiny tidepools. Oaks, orchids and thunderstorms.

As the song says, “They can’t take that away from me”. May that line always hold true.

PLEASE VOTE.

impending

Today I’m wearing ruffles, and loving them. Unfortunately my camera batteries died just as I was in the process of attempting a photographic record. In between packing lunch, getting dressed, and remembering the letters that need to be mailed, I didn’t attempt to rectify that situation. It will all be put right on Thursday at the latest, since Mom is coming to visit, and we must have photo capability for that. My mother’s yarn acquisition skills are finely honed. Let me amend that—her acquisition skills comprise far more than mere yarn. I expect there will be some serious purchasing going on. She is also bringing my grandmother’s wool rug, which she’s been trying to send me for about a decade now. I am a bare-wood-floors person, but my resistance finally wore down. And who knows, it might even go well in the living room. I have turquoise and melon walls, and the rug as far as I remember uses shades of those colors.

Luckily Mom’s friend of 15 years or so is coming too, a wonderful man who is funny and smart and artistic. I figure he must be at least part saint, to be able to live in close proximity to her for so long and not lose his mind and still be able to smile. Well, maybe he has lost his mind. But he’s still a lot of fun. So, if we can stay off of dangerous topics (would you believe what your brother said to me? You are just like your father… why aren’t you married yet?) it could be a decent weekend. At least I’ll get to go out of the city! And I have great hopes of being able to get some knitting done. I think I need a change of scene and some rest, because I’ve had several nights recently when I find myself on my bed at 8:30 with barely enough energy to get up and brush my teeth and crawl back under the covers. Perhaps that’s just an avoidance strategy. Because try as I might, I can’t get around the fact that an impending maternal visit sets me on edge. No-one can ever be sure precisely what this woman will do… will everything be lovely and entertaining? Or will there be undercurrents of accusation ending in a maelstrom of self-righteous martyrdom?

The best I can do is make sure to have knitting, spinning, journal, and a good pair of hiking boots close to hand. That way, should anything erupt, I have escape strategies. Deep breath. Everything’s going to be just fine…

interlude

Where does refreshment come from? For me, from sleeping in a place like this from which you can feel the night air and see the moon huge and glowing. In the morning the stars appear between tree branches and you can lie there in the soft breeze watching them grow fainter. The house is the house I grew up in, but the porch is new, built by a long-time friend. After experiencing it, none of us can quite believe we waited so long for this luxury! New requirement for my someday dream house: screened in porch. At least one.

The only disadvantage of sleeping out on the porch is that you get woken up by creatures like these. The white one is particularly raucous. I've never heard such a loud rooster! And he looks funny too, with an ugly naked head and neck but fluffy feather pantaloons growing over his legs and feet. Quite a character. The hens do lay, though. These are prettier and oh SO soft! I don't know what kind they are or where they came from, but they are the softest rabbits I've ever touched. One for each of the two local grandchildren. Wouldn't it be great to have grandparents with rabbits and chickens, if you were say 6 years old, and in that state of eager curiosity about the world...

After visiting the animals, you can rest in a place like this a truly lovely retreat, here shown in early fall exuberance. It's quite peaceful, in fact there's a pool that makes a soothing sound, when it hasn't been rearranged by raccoons during the night. Two fish live there: a white one and an orange one. They have survived several Ohio winters, and no-one knows quite how they do it. My Dad and I also saw a frog in there one afternoon. A big green one.

Since I was on vacation, I had time to notice things like this

and I learned that my Dad's favorites are these
Dad also told me that my Grandfather kept a Victory Garden, and always loved growing things. I didn't know that, and I wonder if that's where I get some of my insatiable desire to put seeds in the ground.

A few years ago our village (less than 5,000 people) made a Women's Park alongside the biketrail. The biketrail was built where the railroad tracks used to be and yes, I am old enough to remember the train coming through town. The whistle could be heard in my first grade classroom and sometimes on warm afternoons we'd be playing outside and wave to the caboose. It's a wonderful experience to wander through this little park, reading the paving stones. The beauty of living in a small town is that many of the names are recognizeable. And, this being a very unique and wonderful village, you might find a tile with the name of a nationally famous author next to one for a grandmother unknown outside the county.

I indulged in quite a bit of shopping, wow it was fun! Lots of colorful new clothes. The advantage of it being the end of summer is that they were all on sale; the disadvantage is that I might have to wait until next year to wear them. But at least I'll have something to look forward to. I also visited this tree
which was planted when I was... well, not yet 10 anyway. For a long long time it seemed to be a short tree, just about my size, and now all of a sudden! Being among all the flowers and fields and woods made me realize once again how much I love the countryside. It's easy to idealize a rural life, and I try hard not to do that; I know there are lots of problems with small town existence. I lived it for quite a while. Even so, I do find myself longing for more space and the smells of a place where healthy live things grow.

Not pictured, the most romantic canoe trip possible in Southwestern Ohio... late evening on a tiny lake fringed with trees. The sun a throbbing orange ball going down on one side, and a brilliant almost-full harvest moon coming up on the other. We stayed out paddling softly until it was fully dark.

long last

I'm home. In my traveling of exhaustion over the last few days, I've been working on the Big Blue Orenburg in various hotel rooms. At one point I thought I might make it to the middle, but I'm not quite there yet. It strikes me that I should think about the pacing a bit, because it's a one-year project and I'm not yet at the midpoint.

Remarkably, I came home without buying a single textile. ??? How can that be? I suppose I just got tired of the relentless marketing of old and supposedly old ponchos and mantas. There is wonderful new stuff being created. The textiles from CTTC are lovely, but I already have a dozen or so. I didn't even buy any alpaca yarn. This is a shift.

But rather than worry about what this extreme non-acquisitiveness means, I'm going to enjoy being back in my own studio, with piles of fabric and fiber and yarn which are all new, because I forgot I had them! I don't know what I am going to do first... I'd love to have a new summer dress before it gets too cold, and I haven't done any spinning in months. Options!

postcards

Just a little picture to remind me of where I've been.

Got my June shawl-of-the-quarter kit today. A lovely fine grey yarn. It should be soothing to work with.

if you don't hear from me...

it is because I am vacating. Reveling in cyber isolation. It's possible that I'll do some spindle spinning. It's possible that I'll do some lace knitting. It's equally possible that I won't. It's been ages since I read a book with unbroken concentration and I may simply read and sleep and breathe. (Authors currently being considered: Lawrence Durrell, Tolstoy, Wallace Stegner, Isabel Allende, M M Kaye, Richard Russo...) Next probable update, June 3rd or so. Check back then.

oblique.

Knitting, sewing, and spinning all happened this weekend, with great enjoyment and in some cases tangible results. More about that later. To be perfectly honest, what's on my mind right now is that in just a couple of days I am going on VACATION. A real vacation during which I will not be attending a conference, freezing on top of a mountain somewhere, visiting family, or struggling to stay on top of a horse that is scrambling up stone rock faces and down waterfalls. I am going someplace warm. Saturday I went downtown and got a wide-brimmed hat. I also got the pictured items, which may or may not qualify in your view as "garments". I am somewhat shocked myself (and with great delicacy I spare you the picture of me actually inside them). I am looking forward to wearing them and feeling some warmth on my skin. Oh the freedom of going someplace where you are totally unknown! Yesterday I went through long-unopened drawers and found summer clothes I had forgotten existed. Little wisps of things in linen and lawn. A sundress with irises and a full skirt. A little silk blouse with ruffles.

And to top it all off-- my mother called last night and offered to buy me a massage while I'm away. I told her to please have them schedule it near the beginning of the trip. :)

context

A glimpse of the studio. It is much smaller than it looks. You are seeing a fraction of the shelves and yarn. I sew and weave in here, and spin in the living room. Knitting occurs in The Chair, as yet unpictured on this blog. I put up all the shelves myself (proud first-time homeowner speaks). What every woman wants: a cordless drill and a cool level.

whelmed

Red it is! Thanks all for the votes of confidence. I'll plan on the red dress and we'll see how it turns out. I'll have to come up with an occasion to wear it.

It is a fabulously sunny early spring day here, and my boss is gone! And I so much want to be home doing projects (and ignoring the dust on the floors that shows up when the sun is shining...) Recent conversations with same boss indicate that I may very well have a chance to travel again this summer, starting around the middle of June. Hooray! And also, oh rats. That means I'll only have about four weeks to wear all my lovely summer clothes. I'll just have to change clothes twice a day for the last few weeks in August, so I can give equal opportunity to all the beautiful linens and cottons I am longing to sew up. Traveling also changes the project list somewhat. I'll be staying in many different situations, some hotel-like, some more of the houseguest sort. So for one thing, I'll need a decent bathrobe and pajamas. Put them on the sewing list. Warm but take up hardly any space-- any fabric suggestions? I could also use a comfy wool skirt for the highlands, and a durable dark khaki skirt with lots of pockets. (I find skirts more useful than pants in the field; it is easier to negotiate non-existent bathroom facilities). Last year a Limeña friend of my boss' was generous enough to include me in her hospitality, so some regalitos are in order for her (I was hoping to weave something, linen dishtowels? She's a fantastic cook.) I have a pregnant friend who is due at the end of July; I had planned to knit a little sweater for the newborn but I haven't started yet! A wonderful group of friends is currently working on a communal knitting project, and I need to do my part of that within the next week or so. Last night I did get a little bit of cotton spinning done; I'd like to get that cotton scarf off my loom... it takes so much longer when you spin all the weft yourself. Realistically, though there are hundreds more projects in my head, this is almost enough to keep me busy until I leave. Here's to a productive inspired weekend!

heat.

Yes it's spring, but it started raining again and it's chilly. Fiber work has been on hold for several days while I dealt with a broken furnace. I am so grateful to have heat again! Thank you thank you! I don't mind getting wet but I like being able to dry off.

unusual tools

Not fiber related. I am interested in how things work and how things are made. They're doing a bunch of construction outside my office-- ripped out walls, are re-plumbing and re-wiring everything across the hall. A few weeks ago I saw them trundling in a cart with a big heavy machine of some sort.
"What's that?" I asked.
"Pipe threader."
??
"It threads pipe. You know, so they screw together."
Oh! of course. Today dodging a ladder I ran across one of the pipe guys.
"You want to see how that thing works? Come on back here, I'll show you."
It's sort of like a lathe, I guess, the pipe is turned between four vicious looking toothed things that scrape out the threading. It gets so hot they have to pour oil on it as it works. Pipe threader. Wow.

Overture

A bandwagon was passing. Everyone on board looked as if they were having so much fun, I decided to hop on too.