knit and tonic

On Travel and Hamburgers

There's something about getting out of town that is ever so slightly cooling or heating, and whichever way it goes, there is something healing about it.

Anyway. When I was sitting and waiting in the Green Room for the Knitting Daily TV show (taped in Oh-Hi-Oh!--See your PBS listings for the first show in July) with a group of gals who I can only say probably get out a heck of a lot much more than I do and are much more composed than I am, when I got called by the make-up artist so she could give me a look-over for the shoot, turns out, she had to re-do my make up from square one because the age spots were showing and, anyway, the eyebrows were a little thin and did I know that I could use a bit of brown powder under the jowls to make them disappear?

I told her, "yes, I know that the brown powder is supposed to work because, after all, I try the trick everyday to no avail and that the thinness of my eyebrows is something beyond my control since I have been in the habit of plucking out every white one that pops up."

"Well, that explains it," she remarked. "You'll have to start tinting them unless you want to be bald in a year or two. I'm thinking you can do the job whenever you tint your hair; you know, just dab some of the tint you use for your hair onto your eyebrows."

Then I said, "The thing is, my drapes don't match my valences." (Or, should it be: My valences don't match my drapes? or, The shades don't match the valences? . . . )

I suppose things could be worse.

We got home safe and sound, to honks and horns and birds flipped here and there on the freeway. Boy, what a difference. And can I just say that I won't be ordering hamburgers here anymore? I'm convinced all my talk about the great burgers in Cleveland has stunted whatever progress I've made on the establishments west of Ohio. Take a look at what they tried to serve us on the plane over Albuquerque.

To think I was a vegetarian for over 10 years until I got over it. Now I'm wondering if I should re-consider the deal.

On knitting news: If you are ever in the Cleveland-near-Avon area, visit Birds of a Feather. This is a wonderful shop. (They actually have nesting birds in the eaves of their barn [not that they'd be happy to hear this].) I absolutely loved visiting. The setting is amazing, and if you happen to quilt, too, the entire downstairs is devoted to quilt fabrics and I tell you what, it all makes me think of my grandma Helen and how she's about 94 these days and doesn't remember me or recognize me anymore (she's the one who taught me to knit and has lost her sight.) The second-to-last conversation I had with her was about how she wished she could knit again. The last conversation I had with her was about how much she missed her daughter--my mom--and how hard it is to be nearly blind. If only I could take her to a place like this so she could feel all of the fibers and see all the colors again.

BTW: If you are in the Cleveland area, I would also suggest you see some of the many cemeteries. They are abundant and you just might see a burial or two from the Civil War era. Amazing and dashing and sad and morbid and wonderful all at the same time. Girlfriend, when I told her about it all, said that she didn't want to get out of the car. I asked her why, and she said she didn't want to step on dead people.

Ohio

Ha. This morning we were the last ones to go downstairs and get breakfast. This afternoon, we were the first ones downstairs for free cocktails. Thing is, we read the sign wrong and we arrived one full hour early. Ohio.

I like Ohio. Well, I don't know if I really, really like it yet because I've only been here 20 hours, but there are things I've already noticed about Ohio that I think I like. First thing I noticed is, even the real old guys help you put your luggage on the bus. They smile at you, too. Second, road rage, at least on the few freeways we've encountered, doesn't seem to exist. At home, at three in the morning someone will show you the bird if they knew you could see them. Third, no one seems to be in that much of a hurry. In the beginning, we got to thinking the service was just bad. Then, we realized that the whole pace of the place is slower than Los Angeles, and that is something I could get used to.

But the very best thing I have discovered about Ohio so far is that you can order a hamburger medium rare, if you like. In Los Angeles, they have laws against such things. I mean, you could kill yourself eating a medium rare hamburger. And gosh knows, they wouldn't want you to sue them after you kill yourself eating a medium rare hamburger.  They'd much rather you sue them after you choke to death on a hamburger with the texture of a hockey puck, instead.

I managed to knit almost half of two socks. I love this new Regia Cotton Color. It is softer than the last iteration and the colors are amazing.

BTW: After tomorrow, I'll have a half-day to check out some yarn shops.

When it's Sad to Say Goodbye (Put the phone down already)

I woke up this morning feeling lousy. HWWV says it's stress but I think it is because the weather changed drastically. It's windy and hot, nearly 90 degrees, and sometimes when the weather suddenly turns I get really achy and flu-like and can't manage to even walk up the stairs. So that is how it is today, or that is how it was today, until I got an email from a reader who told me about a woman who was in her step class at the gym and took a number of phone calls while huffing and puffing and waving the one hand to the music while holding the phone to her head with the other. You gotta love that sort of thing or you gotta hate that sort of thing because I honestly can't stand it when people use their cell phones during times they shouldn't. I mean, the other day, a friend and I ate lunch at a bar in a restaurant and a woman sat directly across from me, ordered their finest Chardonnay, and proceeded to talk on the phone for more than an hour, eyes glazed but fixed directly on me, never wavering.

Yeah, and in Los Angeles, June will mark the month when a new cell-phone law comes into effect that states you can't talk on the cell phone while driving the car unless it is hands free. And you know what that means, for the months of June, July and August, car accidents will rise due to people frantically searching for their little earphones or fumbling while trying to plug the suckers in, and worse, those dorky Blue Tooth devices will be worn more than ever in public and in restaurants, making all of us non-Blue Tooth lovers wonder if, as these things rise again in popularity, a similar rise in delegate attendance at Star Trek conventions all over L.A. will be documented.

So, tomorrow I'm off to Cleveland--I'll be missing Rocko, that's for sure. I decided I will bring two pair of socks to work on (am packing some lovely Crystal Palace bamboo double points along just in case those nasty agents steal my circs), some orange cotton, a crochet hook and a pattern for boxer shorts. Yeah, I know, it's nuts, but at least I'm not crocheting a bra. (Hey: have you ever used those GoKnit Pouches??? Fab for travel. I also got some of those Pattern Tamers. I can't wait to put them to good use!)

BTW: Good news. I have worked out a deal with a distributor to make my patterns available to yarn stores, so that means they will be available soon in a nice hard copy format. I'm starting off with three Spring type patterns, Sizzle, Flair and Fad-Classic. As these are reformatted, I will reformat the patterns available on my site at the same time to update their look, etc. See the right hand sidebar for more information and a link to the distributor, Deep South Fibers.

Don't Tell Anyone About the Secret Life of Circs

With all the talk on forums and such about what sort of implements you can take on a plane for knitting or other pursuits, you'd think I'd actually go and check to see if metal circular needles would pass security. Thing is, instead, I could not decide which yarn to bring. I mean, really, one must have at least a few projects to choose from when they travel. Why limit? Why? (I think I will limit my choice to two types of yarn.)

But, after finally checking the TSA about what type of items you can actually bring onto an aircraft without being shushed or taken aside for a frisk, I realized, that you can, in fact, or at least they say this online, take knitting needles onto a plane. I will say, however; they were very specific in mentioning that one cannot take a sword on board.

I mentioned this to HWWV the other day in the car, on our way to a fancy lunch out (Chili's--they give out crayons and don't go crazy when Girlfriend spills her Shirley Temple all over the joint) and he said, "So, what do you think one can actually do with knitting needles, anyway, especially the circulars? Threaten to knit the pilot's hair so tight their eyes pop out? Or maybe force them to try and jump rope with them while the onlookers jeer?"

And so, I said: "Ever hear of a garrote?"

Oops. I guess I shouldn't have said that. Wouldn't want to give any crazy-terrorist knitters any ideas (or the TSA for that matter just in case they might ban the circs).

But here is my real dilemma: I'm off to Ohio to do a couple segments for the show, Knitting Daily TV, and I'll have five hours of knitting time, give or take, each way (except for the sipping of the vino out of little plastic bottles). What yarn do I take with? Some of it? Only one skein of it? All of it?

And a little confession: When I read other peoples' blogs and they say the same type of thing, like "Oh noooo! I just don't know what yarn(s) to take with me!" Usually, I huff and puff and scoff a little bit and declare they're a bit silly but now, upon reflection, I'm realizing I just don't get out much.

Next question: Are there any good yarn shops in the Cleveland area?

BTW: My chiropractor, last Friday, gave me the go-ahead to do a few minutes of cardio each day since my back and hip are improving. So what do I do in response? Buy a foot-long tuna sandwich with extra cheese.

Another Name For it: The Ten-Second Rule

Ah, the Do-Over. The Mulligan, the good-ol' Re-do. The ever-loving Return or Backspace key. If only all things in life offered a do-over, a Mulligan, a re-do, a return or backspace key. If only.

I mean, imagine all the things you might do that could use a do-over. You could be a chef or a cook or even a random person in a kitchen and screw up the banana bread. There aren't any do-overs, Mulligan's, re-dos or reverses in cooking. Once it's cooked, it's done, dear. It is done, done, done (unless you're lucky enough to under cook the thing and slip it back into the oven before it's too late.) Same for dropping freshly barbecued steaks onto the cement like HWWV did a couple years ago during a dinner party. Good thing no one saw it. Talk about the ninja moves he rocked to get those suckers onto the serving dish without anyone spotting him.

Oh, and there definitely aren't any do-overs when you cut your own bangs over the sink! This, I know for sure.

But the blessed hand-work. There are do-overs. Plenty of them. And you can pretty much have as many as you like unless you're working with, say, unplied silk or something of that nature--it'll pill like crazy--or maybe mohair (but pity for you if you are). In general, though, you can rip back, or tink, or if you're sewing, you can get out a seam ripper. There are probably limits to how many times you rip, but in general, if you realize what you're doing isn't working, and take a step back and look at the project with an unemotional eye, you'll be able to decide how much to rip, if it is worth it, or if you should bag the project altogether, roll up the yarn, and give it to an unsuspecting stranger.

In my latest case of frogging, I bought some sale yarn without making a gauge swatch and ended up with a Spring Spiral Hat that could fit Ronald McDonald on an extra-good and fluffy hair day. After taking a deep breath, I ripped back and abandoned the instructions after round 9 and held steady at 80 sts on the main color rounds until round 28.

Pattern: Spring Spiral Hat - Interweave Crochet Spring 2008

Yarn: Gedifra California (on sale, 40% off) in colors 3167 and 3178, one ball each

Gauge: Who Knows? I didn't do a gauge swatch and my crochet skillz aren't all that.

Needles: Crochet hook size F (3.75mm)

Mods: Worked as instructed to round 9, then continued working with CC for 40 stitches and MC rounds for 80 stitches. Worked my way until round 28 and then followed the printed ones to the to end, not paying attention to the stitch counts, which is liberating to be sure.

Difficulty: Simple; appropriate for someone who has worked single and double crochet.

Time to complete: Pre-rip, about two hours. Ripping took 30 hot seconds. Re-crocheting took about 1.5 hours. It was so fast, I didn't even bother to weave in the ends. I just stuffed them inside the cap and plopped it on my head.

Why Crochet is Easy and . . .

Girlfriend found an old harmonica and is wandering around the house blowing into it. I took it from her just a moment ago and played something akin to "Home on the Range," which she didn't recognize, but I was surprised that I could do it. But after a second or two and with a mid-line snarky look, she grabbed it back out of my mouth and wandered off gumming a tune closer to that of the lead singer and wild harmonica player extraordinaire, John Popper, from The Blues Travelers.

Thing is, I knew, back in the day, like in the late 70's, if dad pulled out his harmonica (I think he had a few diatonics) that the night would be good good good. Dad has always been like that, true to his heart and although the heart can get in the way sometimes, a harmonica player like him can always fill the din with something other than a dog barking, a child crying or a giant fat frog croaking under your window. What I mean to say is, it's good to have someone around who turns off the news, has a beer, and plays harmonica to some Waylon Jennings or Willie Nelson like all good people should if they could. Come to think of it if you are interested, "Shot Gun Willy Sits Around in his Underwear" is a good starter song for a harmonica-along if you are looking for something to play your new harmonica along with.

Harmonica playing is easy like crochet is easy. At least, I always thought it was easy, and I know some of you may disagree, but I think crochet is honestly easier than knitting. I choose to knit most of the time because it provides a drape according to what you might see in stores and such, but crochet is kitschy in a good way. Can you make a granny square with two needles? Can you reclaim all the past that you thought was lost without a crochet hook? Can you make a nice tight rug without a hook? One that you can step on without ballet toes? (I think not.)

Really and truly, crochet is the bomb. But you just have to know what to do with it. So, I present this Spring Spiral Hat in the latest Interweave Crochet. It is totally cute but my LYS doesn't carry Collinette yarns and I thought I could substitute. (Hah! Sucker!)

So the Crochet Goddess whispers: Think again, knitter, I mean, crocheter! You are stupid! You shall not substitute without taking into account the gauge. (But I don't know how to make a gauge in crochet even though crochet by itself is so easy, Ms. Crochet Goddess.) Adjust your needle size to obtain gauge! (What? Needle size? I thought the needle I used provided a nice stitch tension so I ran with it! Please don't put me in the crochet clink [I bet they don't have one although I will say the knitters do.]) Take note of the fiber contents of your yarn if you sub! (Yadda yadda yadda!)

Good news is, crochet is soooo easy to rip. That's why it is so genius. (Crocheters, please do not take offense as I love crochet, but you gotta love the fact that it is so easy to rip.)

Speaking of offense. Don't take any from the following. I just had a funny conversation and had to share it with you:

YESTERDAY, BY THE NEW PARK, STANDING NEXT TO A NEIGHBOR'S NEW WHITE MINI-VAN, WHO WAS READING A LOCAL SCHOOL PAMPHLET WHILE HER CHILD PLAYS:

Her (as I was walking by with Chuck and Rocko): I didn't see you over there or I would have said hello!

Me: Me either. Hello! So, it looks like you're looking through your daughter's agenda. How's it going over there at her school?

Her: What? Girlfriend doesn't go to kindergarten there? It's a good school!

Me: No. She doesn't. This past year or so has been crazy, so we opted for private school. She'll probably move into public school after a couple years.

Her: But the public school is so good around here! I did so well in public school! I turned out alright!

Then, when Girlfriend walked up:

Her: Oh hi there! Your cap is so cute! It says 'Lucy!" I have one just like it!

Me: It says, 'Lucky."

Her: Oh yeah. Okay. Huh. Right. Lucky!

Anyway; I'll be re-crocheting this sucker. It's out of Gedifra California. It's cotton and acrylic and was on sale for cheap, like 40% off (which means this potential loser might only cost me $8.95 for my pleasure. Just remind me to read the pattern thoroughly, next time. I plan on removing a few stitches here and there, as if I'll need a hat in April, May or June. But, then again, it would be good to hide the roots.) 

Sneaking a Peek

(First, a picture to prove that they get along.)

The other thing on my mind: When certain projects begin to get a little mysterious or slightly tiresome because it doesn't yet resemble what you picture will be the outcome and you begin to wonder how it's going to turn out, do what I do: Block it before it's time.

If you block it before its time, you can literally see into the future. Of course, this particular technique, if you can call it a technique, won't work for many things you knit in pieces like some sweaters or whatnot, but the thing is, you can certainly pre-block items like this table runner or scarves or lace items (unless you are a hard-core lace knitter and must use those teeny tiny lace blocker needle wires that I can't even begin to wrap my mind around), but if the item is relatively straightforward, I say, go for it.

But what is blocking, anyway, and are there certain rules we can follow, all of the time?

In a few words: Who knows? And Nope.

I knitted for a couple years before I finally could say to others: "Block as necessary or desired." Truth is, blocking for one person isn't necessarily what blocking is for the next person. Blocking is what you want it to be, really, and you need not be worried about what it is, unless you don't understand what the fiber you are working with can withstand and how it behaves under certain conditions.

Take, for example, this hemp that I'm using for Lisa Shobana Mason's Celebration Table Runner (see sidebar for more info). This is hemp, so really, the sky is the limit when it comes to blocking. If you are mid-project like I am at the moment and cannot wait to see how it will turn out, either keep it on the needles and pre-block like I did today with a mighty steamer or place it on a holder of some type and go for it. When I say "go for it, I mean go for it. Hemp can take just about any type of treatment, including a hot wash in the washer and even a nice tumble dry. But if your work is still on the needles, I'd take the high route and steam it like I did today just to be safe.

If you're using a 100 percent wool, washable or not, for your project, I'd let the semi-finished or finished item soak in some wool-friendly wash and some cool water for a few minutes and then roll it in a towel and lay it flat to dry. Or steam it lightly, instead, which is my preferred method for blocking (but not for laundering). If it's cotton, I'd give it the rough treatment, meaning go ahead and give it the full-on hot steamer or a warm bath and a spin in the washer and then some flat drying. Just make sure that whatever you do, you have it on needles that can withstand the treatment, too, or place the unfinished piece on a plastic holder or something like that. I will say, however, that you shouldn't tell any knitting mavens what you are doing. They might call you out, or worse, ban you from some sort of knitting circle. (And they will also tell you that the stitches on the holder will be looser than the other rows below it, etc., etc., but if you are careful not to get them wet and exclude them from the blocking, everything should turn out alright--but only if you are steaming it or wetting it lightly. Obviously, placing it in the washer will get everything wet.)

Just know that if you are working your knitted item in pieces, you'll have to give the same treatment to all the other pieces before seaming, because the blocking process might make it more difficult to piece the thing together when you're all done.

My Celebration Table Runner is coming along nicely, now that I've blocked my progress! It's so much fun to sneak a peek!

Still Saying Stupid Stuff to the Chiropractor

It's always so easy for me to think back about the days when all we had was a dial telephone and the type of TV you'd have to get up off your couch to turn the channel. So I sit here and think about this junk and I'm listening to, of all people, Peter Frampton (I wore out two, two-vinyl album sets of "Peter Frampton Comes Alive" back in the day because I played it so much), and recalling how I lay there on the table just a few days ago while I said to my chiropractor, as he stuck his thumb in my hip like he did the other day and raising my leg up into the air: "You know, I'd much rather have a gal clean my teeth rather than a guy, especially a good looking one."

So as he held my leg up there in the air and I grunted a bit, he looked up to the ceiling, thinking about what I said and he replied: "I know exactly what you are talking about; I'd rather have a gal clean my teeth, too, and I don't care if she is young, old, good looking or bad, or so-so. Come to think of it, either which way, I'd rather a woman clean my teeth rather than a man. There's just something about it and I can't put my finger on it, but I'd feel weird if it were a guy.'"

"Yeah, And it's not that a man can't clean my teeth just as well as a woman!" I exclaimed, "It's that I don't want a guy to see whatever plaque I've been missing, or something to that effect! In fact, last time I was at the dentist, a guy in a white coat called my name and escorted me into one of the rooms. I nearly fainted from fear that he'd see inside my mouth but thankfully he was just a front-office person."

"I hear you!" he said, grabbing my other leg while I moaned, "So what about the dentist? Do you want your dentist to be a woman or a man?"

"A man! But not a good looking one! I tell you what, I went to new doc for a root canal awhile back, and in walked the exact replica of that soccer player, Beckham, you know, the guy who's married to Posh. I nearly pooped in misery. I was expecting Grandpa Moses and what do I get? David Beckham, drilling into my stinky tooth and asking me if I've had any swelling in my gums lately."

Then tonight, I asked HWWV about the time he had to visit a doctor for a "private" condition and asked him if he'd rather have a woman or a man check him out. He said it didn't matter either way to him, even if she were, you know, Charlize Theron or maybe Jennifer Aniston.

Sheesh.

Someone isn't as neurotic as he should be.

BTW: My sister and her husband bought their first house and I'm so happy, happy. Check out the views and tell her congratulations. They saved $$$$ for years and years to afford this and I'm thrilled. Next thing, we'll finally be able to unload Girlfriend's old crib on them.

And on Yarn News: There isn't any. (Turns out, I could have a herniated disc in my back; that's why there is so much talk about my doc appointments. I'll get back to the yarn soon, I promise. I just can't sit for long periods right now.)

I Can Only Hope

HWWV, Mister Know-It-All, told me that the pics we took a couple hours ago of the socks I just knit and my new Fatbaby's were slightly marred by my Ballet Fingers. He said that the angle of my fingers was too formal with all the other stuff. That the picture seemed forced, what with the formality of the fingers, etc. etc. etc. (Stick spoon down throat about now for effect and let's all join along in screaming "At least they weren't Spirit Fingers!")

Listen, friends, these Ballet Fingers didn't come easy, what with all the years of "mom-required" Modern Dance lessons (mom was a fan of Twyla Tharp) and pottery classes at the park and rec. And yes, I've been called out by a yoga teacher or two. At least two of them have looked at my hands and said: "This isn't a ballet class! We're doing yoga! Point your body and fingers to the sky like you mean it! (or something to that effect), and then, of course, you might remember me talking about the time I was kicked out of Salsa class when the teacher called me out for sashaying when I was supposed to keep my upper body erect. She called me out about five times before my last moment there in the almost empty gym (I think there were four couples, the teacher, and a bad tape deck). I whispered to HWWV that I thought it was perfectly fine to sashay because life is too short not to. And so we left and danced in our living room instead.

Which reminds me why some days I wonder why I feel like I don't fit in with the knitting world. There, I said it. I don't feel like I fit in. I go to a yarn store and talk about something I'm knitting in the round, and someone almost always chimes in: I need some seams! I need structure!

Or I ask for two circulars in the same size and they ask what for? I say, I want to knit in the round, make some socks, have an extra circular for working a sleeve in the round, yadda yadda yadda, and then someone will invariably spout out: "You know, they make double pointed needles for that sort of thing."

But I don't want to knit pieces. I want to knit in the round or in one piece. If I need to shore something up, who says I can't just pick up stitches and knit from wherever and put some bias tape on the seam later for a little stability? Who says that I have to do things a certain way? It's my knitting. If I want to do it my way, who has a say? And if you want to knit in pieces, who says it's not okay?

Really and truly, I've spent a lot of time at the Home Depot and Lowe's or whatever DIY Store and I can't, for the life of me, remember the last time I heard a clump of lumber guys gang up on a weekend carpenter about their choice of wood glue or favorite wood working technique.

I want to sashay during Salsa and I want to crack a joke in church and I want to fake a limp for my chiropractor. Plus, I want to tell everyone about a conversation I had with friend who happens to be deaf and who is married to a man who is also deaf without feeling guilty because I'm so sick of being politically correct, so here it goes:

She said: "I have a really sweet dog; he's such a wonderful companion."

And I said: "Wow, that's great, and it must be nice to have a dog who can come get you when someone knocks at the door or when the phone rings,"

Then she said: "What? Are you kidding? That dog can't hear a thing."

I feel so much better now.

Socks are the DK weight Avery Allison Yarns hand-dyed superwash in Herb and Iris. I cranked this pair out in a day or two on size 4 needles (I could have gone with 5's). Very cool.

About a Different Type of Second Sock Syndrome

Since I'm not a fan of the hyperbole, I'll just tell it straight: I'm this far away from purchasing a few pair of huge oven mitts and wearing them full time from today until April 14th a la George Castanza. (For those of you not in the know, George Castanza was on Seinfield and he got a hand modeling gig. He was so worried his hands would get hurt before a shoot that he started to wear oven mitts wherever he went.)

So, the oven mitts: My hands are so dry, and I'm not exaggerating, no matter how much salve I slather on, I still have hangnails and bumps and scratches and all manner of ugly things on them that I'm beginning to wonder if they'll have to hire a stunt knitter to stand in for me when I do that Knitting Daily TV show in April.

What to do? What to do? First, I have a couple hunks of a thumb missing due to some very unfortunate wart surgery I had years ago. I mean, the doctor, he literally removed one side of my thumb and part of the tip. Although you can't really tell it has been shortened unless I hold the two of my thumbs side by side (when a party is slow, I always pull out my thumbs for show and tell to liven things up), the memory of the whole debacle sometimes hits me like one of those ammonia carbonate things that seem to be taped up on every doctor's office wall. Come to think of it, the doctor who got carried away on my thumb had to snap one and wave it under my nose for fear I'd expire.

Second, for years, I've harbored a deep-seated resentment toward a particular in-law who claimed the water in California made her hands bleed. And now, as I face a session of hand close-ups, I'm beginning to wonder if she had a point and wasn't avoiding doing the dishes or touching anything in the kitchen after all.

Anyway.

BTW: I got about two seconds' worth of the Spring cleaning bug and decided to finally fish out all my singleton hand knit socks sprinkled throughout my two laundry baskets (I don't go down to the bottom that often to make sure I am cleaning a pair together) and, well, just look at them. I secretly knew they were all hidden there, but it wasn't until today that I felt awful for pretending I didn't have any hand-knit socks left to wear when I knew the real truth deep down, that I am too lazy to do laundry correctly.

Thing is, only half of my problem is solved: They've been in there for so long, I can't remember which ones are superwash and which ones aren't. I guess I'll have to hand wash all of them from now on.

P.S. I have a crappy camera.