A contest worth visiting, plus new vocab

If only because the photo is so great, it's just begging for a caption: Check out this contest.

(Thanks to Yarnerinas for the link!)

P.S. I've been spinning like a madwoman; three bobbins full of a gorgeous two-ply and more to come tonight. Pictures soon.

P.P.S. And how much did I need this word today at work? Thanks, Fuzzarelly, for that link. I can tell this word is going to get a lot of use in my world (especially the way I drive and shop for groceries)...

Wouldja look at that?

It's Friday. How did that happen? I swear it was Monday last time I looked. And don't you think if it were Friday I'd have gotten more done by now?

In knitting news, guess what else you can knit with Briar Rose Grandma's Blessing?
Socks!

Honestly, what can't you knit with this yarn? And it is so soft, my hands are thanking me. It's a very nice break from the linen yarn I'm using for that shell I'm working away at (right now, it's my don't-have-to-look-at-it knitting, which means that I only pull it out at certain times, so it's moving slowly).
These are Anne's David socks for the booth at Sock Summit. I just started and I'm already halfway through the heel flap on the first one. They're a fast knit. And, as an example of the vagaries of photography in my world, here's the same sock in a picture taken not 12 inches away from the pictures above.
Weird, huh? The colors in the first pictures are much closer to reality.

I'm also making progress on the Fraggle socks from the Rockin' Sock Club. I have a theory that this might be a new base yarn (anyone know for sure?), since it feels even softer than usual. On the other hand, maybe it's just that linen contrast again...
The heel's turned on the first one and I'm working my way down the foot. I'm still truly, madly, deeply in love with this colorway, even though it doesn't show up in these pictures at all (the one in an earlier post is closer); they were taken in the exact same spot as the better photos above. Welcome to my house, the Bermuda Triangle of good photography. Where pictures go to overexpose.
This pattern is fun, but I think I agree with the folks on Ravelry who are saying that the colorway/pattern match isn't the absolutely best. I very tempted to just knit the socks with 2x2 ribbing alternating between regular knit ribs and the "bubble" ribs in the pattern (you can see a line of them there on the right side above), but I decided to give the whole pattern a shot. I'm not regretting it, in spite of my reservations. I also made these a bit longer than usual since I'm having so much fun with them and I've been wanting a slightly longer pair of socks. I'm sure I'll have enough yarn since I always have leftovers.

And I've been spinning a little. I started that roving I posted about a little bit ago, and have spun a tiny bit. It's gorgeous to spin, although I'm not sure I'm going to be able to put enough spin into the singles to ply tightly enough for the sock yarn I was envisioning -- when I try, it gets less fun to spin, and I'm not in the mood to fight it.
When spun like that, it's a joy to work with, so I'm going to take that as a sign.

I've also been slowly plugging away on my Golding at the roving I bought at Twist! Over a thick rug, this time.
Spinning on my spindles is nice in the evening in the main room when the girls are doing homework, or Rick's getting dinner ready or doing the dishes. It feels more social, and our stools are there, so I can spin a full arm's length before winding on. I just need to stay in the habit of doing that regularly.

And, last but not least, my prize came in the mail! This is the Fiona tote that I won in Hip Mountain Mama's blog contest. I absolutely love the green leaves in this fabric.
And talk about capacious! I could fit a small child in there, I think, not to mention a goodly load of knitting projects and accessories.
(Keys included for size reference.) I may even take this as my carry-on to Scotland this summer, since it's a great size for something like that. Thank you, Hip Mountain Mama!

A good Monday

I don't know if everyone feels this way, but I find Monday mornings to be rather difficult. After two mornings of sleeping until the luxurious hour of 7:30 (or maybe even 8!), it's back to getting up early (and yes, I do realize that my early is not nearly so early as that of other people), getting kids out the door, getting on with the day.

This Monday morning was different. I woke up to find two absolutely delightful and entirely unexpected email messages in my inbox. The first was from Hip Mountain Mama, whose blog I found when I read at Darcy's Knotty Knitter that there was a blog contest, and that we should go check it out. I did, in the middle of doing many other things, and added the new blog to my blogrolls because I enjoyed reading it, and thought no more of it.

Until yesterday morning, when I got a lovely email telling me that I'd won the contest. My very first gut reaction upon seeing header in my inbox was that it was going to be a message telling me thanks for entering, but someone else had won. (No, no-one actually sends email messages like that, but this should tell you how much I didn't expect to win.)(As an aside, I may have been conditioned to expect things like that from a former Dean who always started his review letters with the phrase: "I regret to inform you...", and then, once I'd had a heart attack, would go on to say that he hadn't had a chance, due to the press of other duties, to review my file as thoroughly as he was sure it deserved, but that I still had a job. I mean, seriously.) But it didn't; it said, loudly and clearly, that I won. And what a prize! Check this out. A Fiona tote! How cool is that? Answer: very. Thank you, Hip Mountain Mama! This is one prize that is going to get a lot of use.

And right below that, there was an email from Anne, telling me to check out this page in the new issue of the Twist Collective. I don't know how many of you might remember me mentioning, way back in January, that I'd gotten a lot of knitting done: the wine dark sea sweater, and the kimono, and something else that I'd share later. Well, it's later, and I'm sharing. That there, my friends, is Anne's pattern Artichaut -- she knitted the lighter one, and I knitted the darker one. I finished it the day before Anne came to visit way back in the winter and handed it over to her then, blocked and ready to send off for a photoshoot. I was so excited to have finished it in time that I completely and utterly forgot to take any pictures of it myself (and let me tell you, it was so beautiful on the blocking wires that even Rick made several comments about it). Luckily, Anne was not so forgetful, and she sent me a few.
This one was knitted in Briar Rose Grandma's Blessing, in the most stunning olive green colorway you have ever seen. I absolutely love working with that yarn; Grandma's Blessing strikes me again and again as one of the best all-around yarns out there. It's a great weight for shawls and sweaters and so soft and bouncy that it's a complete pleasure to knit. I don't get tired of projects that I'm knitting with it (the sweater Ondule was another one). Love it.
I'd managed to forget how much I love this shawl, which is just as well, as I won't see it again for a while yet. I know that this is something I am going to wear endlessly, though.
And aren't Anne's photos beautiful, too? They put my meager skills in the shade; I think I'll send her all my knitting from now on for photoshoots, heh.

In the meantime, I completed my excellent Monday by working on the knitting questionnaire and casting on for the Fraggle socks from the Rockin' Sock Club. I'm almost down the first leg; pictures next time. Of course, life isn't all wine and roses. I woke up this morning to find that my old dog Kia isn't doing so well as we'd like, and that my lovely cat Gwilim had left a big fresh juicy (and, thankfully, deceased) rat in the kitchen for me. All before my coffee. Ah, well. It can't be Monday every day.

Good causes, and yarn giveaways

There are a lot of them. And I know that we all have our list of causes that are near and dear to our hearts, and that we put our energy and time and love and, when we can, money into. There's one that's been on my mind quite a bit lately, in large part because of my friend, Anna.

I first met Anna because our daughters went to school together. Our daughters became friends and we became friends, and we have stayed that way even as our girls have gone to different schools, and as they've moved in and out of activities with one another. When I first moved here, one of the hardest things to leave behind in the Bay Area was a network of friends so close that they were almost family; oh, heck, really, they were (and still are) family -- you know how that is. Leaving those friends was terrible and wrenching, and I wondered if I'd ever end up being part of a community like that again. How it happened is another story, but I did, and Anna is an important member of that community. I know that I can always count on her to be there when I need her, and to be cheerful and upbeat when I hate to hear it, but know that it's time and past time to move out of that funk I've sunk myself into.

For all the years that I've known her, Anna has been deeply involved in volunteering and fundraising for events which support women who are battling breast cancer. Her own involvement with that cause came from watching her dear lifelong friend Nancy struggle with breast cancer after being diagnosed at the age of 32 just after the birth of her first daughter. During the years, I have watched Anna give unstintingly of her time and energy to breast cancer retreats, and to raising funds to support those retreats. The amount of organizational energy that goes into work like that is breathtaking, and Anna has this sense of sympathetic awareness of what needs to be done that I can only wish I had. Nancy has participated in the Walk For the Cure several times now, and each time Anna has been unable to walk it with her. But this year she can. I can't tell you her story as well as she can, so if you want to read about it, click here. This is personal to me, too; both my grandmother and Rick's have fought breast cancer, as have a number of good friends, and we have family members and friends who are at high risk for developing breast cancer. And we have daughters. And the part of me that believes that no knowledge acquired is ever wasted is sure that what we can learn from developing better diagnoses, treatments, and cures for breast cancer can be used to fight other, equally frightening and devastating diseases.

When contemplating something this big, it's so easy to feel helpless, to ask, "but what can I do?", and to feel like the only option is to leave it to the medical professionals. But sometimes that behemoth "The Medical Field" needs help. It needs financial help (research costs money), but I also think that it needs help in maintaining its own sense of hope, of connection to the real people who are affected by the diseases they research. An event like this is all about hope. It's all about believing that something can be done; not something for some other people someday, but now, for these people who are walking and the people they love, today. Hope is powerful, and its effects should never be underestimated. I don't think I can adequately describe how awestruck I am by each and every person who participates in an event like this. Walkers aren't just giving three days and 60 miles of their time; they're also giving all of the steps and time that are involved in training for the event for months in advance, and every one of those steps is motivated by the belief that something can be done. I've been trying to support Anna by walking with her twice a week, but at the end of our hour together, when I can go home and take a shower and have that second cup of coffee, she is still out there walking, getting ready for those three days in November when she and so many other people will participate in San Diego's walk.

So, here's where the ask (and the offer) come in. First, the caveat. As I said at the beginning of this post, I know that each and every one of you has causes that are important to you, and that you support as much as you are able. I also know that these are rough financial times. So it is absolutely, 100%, A-OK to leave a comment here sending your best wishes to Anna as she trains for and completes this walk. I'll pass along every single one of them, and I know she appreciates that encouragement at least as much as the donations. But if this is one of your causes, and if you don't know anyone who's walking this year, or you haven't had a chance to give what my girls call their "charity money" this year (the girls usually choose Heifer for their annual donation, but this year, it's The Walk), or if you have a couple of dollars burning a hole in your pocket (ha!), then I want to offer this as an option.

I also want to make taking that option fun and suspenseful, so I'm giving yarn away! (See, I remember that this is a fiber blog, really I do.) If you leave me a comment on this post (I'll put a link to it and to Anna's page in my sidebar) telling me that you were able to donate to Anna's team (honor system here, I trust you all), you will get an entry into a drawing for all the lovely yarn I'm going to show you below. And no, there is no minimum donation amount; every little bit counts. If someone leaves a comment saying that they came over from your blog to donate, not only do they get an entry, but you get an extra one, too. I'm thinking that I'll do the drawing around October 20, which gives everyone around three weeks; I'll extend it if it looks like we're still going strong. Also, I've got seven prizes here right now, but if lots and lots of people are participating, I will add more so that everyone has a reasonable chance of winning something. Please be sure to leave me a way to reach you in your comment (your blog address, email, whatever works for you).

At the moment, here's what I have photographed (badly -- you all know me and cameras) and available:

That is a skein (balled, but unused ever) of Manos del Uruguay (138 yards), in the colorway Agate, 100% kettle dyed wool. The colors are more rosy than that, with all kinds of lovely autumnal shades of oranges and bronzes. It felts like a dream.

And those are two skeins of Misti Alpaca (100% alpaca) laceweight (437 yds each) in a color that is a deep eggplanty purple. This stuff is so soft, I can't tell you; let's just say it's really really soft and leave it at that.

This washed-out picture is of a skein of Cascade Yarns Malizia (the one on the top), 54 yards of colorful ribbon yarn, paired with (on the bottom) a 75-yard skein of Berroco Glace. Scarf for the fall, anyone?

And this, my friends, is 550 yds of 100% merino, hand-dyed, Briar Rose yarn (Fourth of July). I'm dying here. And we're not done yet.

Two skeins (balled) of Cherry Tree Hill Sockittome (80% superwash merino, 20% nylon) in the colorway Fall Foliage. It looks like it sounds (I'm attempting to be marginally seasonally appropriate with most of these).

Except this one, which is a seafoam green skein of Dream in Color Smooshy, 450 yds of 100% superfine Australian merino superwash, in the Beach Fog colorway. And last but not least...

A ball of Plymouth Yarn Eros ribbon yarn (165 yds) in forest greens and golds.

So there it is. A chance to make a donation if that's something that's right for you right now, and to simultaneously maybe win some yarn. If it's not the right time to donate, I (and Anna!) would still love to hear from you.

Next time: back to our regular programming with some lace knitting involving handspun yarn, and a knitting book.

And the winner is...

It's the day to pick names for the blog contest. But first, while I have a captive audience (so rare...) a few business items.

The fire update is that we seem to be out of the path of danger at this point. The wind has turned, and the fires are heading back into the hills. This doesn't mean that the work is done for the firefighters who are out there on the front lines, nor that the threat is over for everybody, just that it looks like we've been spared this time. In many ways, this fire has been more frightening for me because we bought a home in a place that is not usually prone to fire danger. We're not in the hills, or in a canyon; we live near the center of our town in an area that is not generally at risk, but the mixture of heat and fuel load and expanded living area of the population has made controlling fires like these harder and riskier and means, it appears, that the danger area has expanded. I'm grateful that we've been lucky this time.

My friends who were staying with us have also been able to finally get back to their (untouched) home today. My other evacuated friends are also getting home. I realize how lucky we all are to have escape unscathed. Thank you all so very much for your kind comments and emails to me; it was nice to know there were people out there pulling for us, especially as things around here seemed more and more surreal. Now we're just dealing with heat and really bad air. I realize that this is so much better than trying to rebuild our lives after losing a home, and I am grateful. We will also be home this weekend (yes, I was brave and cancelled the trip), and have some time to try to move out of this hunkering-down space and back into real life.

On a different topic entirely, I realize that I forgot to tell you all who your (inadvertent) benefactress is, in that the reason why I decided to have a blog contest is because I actually (for the first time EVER) won a blog contest that Adrienne had, and she, being the lovely and generous person that she is, sent me a skein of Tofutsies, which is sitting in my knitting basket right now, waiting to be knitted. Thanks, Adrienne!

A comment on the pattern-memorization comments. They fell into a few general categories. There are apparently a lot of people who have my problem with memorization (or else who wanted free yarn without having to share their memorization secrets; I can respect that). It's good to know I'm not alone. There are also a large number of you who must get some very strange looks when knitting in public, as talking or singing through a pattern is a popular strategy. Seriously, I did not expect that one at all, but singing knitters are apparently a lot more common that I'd ever thought (I really have to find a knitting group down here -- the things I'm missing out on!). Other strategies that were mentioned involved examining the pattern for its internal logic to help remember where it's going. There were a number of lovely note-taking suggestions involving office supplies (mmmm....office supplies....I love office supplies), and one that suggested using the back of my hand for notes. You all are some seriously creative people. Rachel brilliantly suggested knitting a couple of clean repeats and then using the knitting itself as the pattern (so beautiful in its simplicity -- I actually smacked myself on the forehead when I read that and thought "doh!"). What it boils down to is that you all totally came through for me, one way or the other. You're the best!

Thus I was very glad that I hadn't offered the yarn to the best comment -- I would never have been able to make that call. Instead, I promised you a random drawing, and random is what you get. I wrote every name on evenly-sized pieces of paper (office supplies!), plus writing extra names for those who were said to have sent people here from their blogs, and put them all in an old tin box. These were covered and shaken vigorously, and subjected to the groping hand of a blindfolded 6-year-old, who pulled out the name:

Kathy! You won! Email me at jahlers AT csusm DOT edu so I can get your address and send you your yarn.

All right, excitement's over, people. Move along, move along. Kauni pictures tomorrow, I promise.

Recovery (picture heavy post)

Well, I made it. After posting on Friday, I finished my sabbatical application, got in the van, and went to pick up the dancers. The van:
Did I mention this thing was huge? From the inside looking back, it went on forever.
Big as it was, though, it barely fit everyone. To my great relief, I found the special back way that let me drive right up to the front of the building to drop everyone off (otherwise, it's five flights of stairs up), and we got there in good time. By that point, I'd been fretting non-stop (and losing sleep) for ages. About what to say to introduce everyone, about whether the dancers were going to be bored during the storytelling, about whether there'd be enough time for the storytellers to get their audio equipment going and to take it down, about whether the audience would stay past the intermission (and free pizza), about whether there'd be an audience at all (I can't tell you how embarrassing it would have been to have flown 11 people down here just so I could watch them dance). Fret, fret, fret.

Things went well. The dancers found the storytellers as entertaining as I do, and the kids loved them. There was, in fact, an audience (hence the kids). It wasn't huge, but the space was relatively small, and most of the seats were filled. There were some students, and my friends brought their families (none of them know I have a blog, but thank you, my friends!). I told everyone that the price of pizza was staying for the second half (I laughed while I said it, but you know the kind of laugh it was), and they did (I'm guessing they didn't need to be threatened). And then I introduced the dancers. I kept it very short, and Robert did an amazing job throughout the dancing of stopping now and then to explain what they were doing and why. It was absolutely perfect. And frankly, once the drum started, and the dancers came out with their bone flutes, nothing else really mattered.

The point of this kind of dancing is to sacrifice to the greater good. Robert explained to everyone (I'd known this, and I was glad he told them) that the dancing is meant to make the dancers work and sweat, to give something up for all the things that people get. And that the dancers do it for everyone. You get what you give, he says, and it's important to make a point of giving and not to just take from the world. He doesn't put it this way, but what I see when I see them dancing is something that I can only describe as purity of intention. These singers and dancers are completely and entirely there in the moment, and the energy they expend is awesome, in the true and older sense of the word. And it is clear watching them that they are doing it with joy and grace. In a world where everything is, at its core, energy, they are putting the best energy they can muster out there as a gift. And it truly was a gift. I stopped fretting. I stopped worrying. It was all good.

For me, being me, the hardest part of all of this was that I knew that the reason they were here giving this gift was because of me. Robert and I have been doing language work together now for years, and the folks in that group, whether they really know me or not, know who I am, and what we do. They've seen me around the reservation, at ceremonies, at people's houses. All of them said that they were happy to be there to do this for me. I am not very good at feeling worthy of that kind of effort. It feels like I am putting people to too much trouble, and that what I do is just what I do, not something that should haul 11 people from their homes and children, carrying regalia 600 miles to dance. So it is my tendency to feel guilty. I know I shouldn't. I know that when I do something requiring that kind of effort and time and (if I'm doing it as I should) purity of intention, I am doing it from love, and because I want to give something to someone who has given to me. In my case, it's usually cooking or knitting, creating something by hand to warm or nourish someone I care about. I enjoy thinking about that person and why I care about them while I'm creating; I feel that it puts the right kind of energy into the finished object. I think I was (and am) overwhelmed by the idea that these people were putting so much energy into something because to at least some degree, they feel that way about my work with their Tribe. It was truly a gift, and I came away from it feeling more whole and more taken care of than I had in a long time.

I tried to take pictures, but the dancers were (duh) moving (this being an inherent part of dancing); it was also fairly dim, and a flash would have really been disruptive. I eventually gave up because I prefer to experience something like this without a mitigating lens. Here are a few, though, to give you a sense (this is one of the few dances they do that it's possible to take pictures of):
Here they all are afterwards, out of regalia:
It was good.

I got up at 4:45 Saturday morning to get them all to the airport (after waking up every half hour most of the night to be sure I hadn't missed the alarm), and came home. Even after two cups of coffee, I fell over on the couch and slept for an hour. Then I woke up, realized that I had to return the van Right Now or I'd be charged for another day, and off we went. We stopped by the farmer's market on the way home, where I was seduced by the color and shine of these babies (and by a squash blossom quesadilla for breakfast, yum...):
It's not just yarn that sucks me in with its sheer beauty. Now I have to figure out how to make chiles rellenos. Hmmm...

Then I went back to sleep. I think I was just totally worn out with two weeks of planning and worrying, and trying to get everything else done while preparing for this week. I woke up to go to Tess' soccer game, which they won after a very rocky start (good job, baby!). And then home, to knit Kivrin's sock and finish Madhur Jaffrey's autobiography, Climbing the Mango Trees, which I highly recommend, and not just for the recipes at the end.

Kivrin's sock is done, and I have cast on for the second, thus attempting to circumvent the dreaded SSS:
It's my own pattern, and I'm pretty pleased with how it turned out. I also entered a contest over at Adrienne's site; she's generously giving away STR and Tofusties (!!). Go see her, and tell her I sent you. Any woman who's willing to share good sock yarn deserves a hit.

Sorry for such a long post. I think I'm caught up now. And I promise, no more bitching.