Day 146: Giving to makers

Dudes, the last few weeks have been brutal.  I guess all there is to say is that I went to New Orleans, was home for a day and a half, left for Vancouver (which, I had to keep reminding myself, is in another country and therefore requires me to go through, oh say, customs, and which therefore meant I needed my passport), spent almost six days there during which I was nearly 100% constantly in meetings (barring a delightful two hours spent at the UBC Museum of Anthropology, which I highly recommend), was home for a day and a half, and then everyone came to stay for Thanksgiving.  It was wonderful to have my folks here and Kivrin home, and I had a ton of fun making an entirely new set of dishes (all taken from this cool NYT article), but on Saturday I fell over at noon and didn't get up off the couch until nearly 6:00, went to bed at about 9, and slept for 10 straight hours, and I'm still dragging.  Today's the last day of classes, and then it's me and a metric ton of grading.

But that's not what I wanted to share with you all.  The part I wanted to talk about is the fun of giving a handmade gift to a maker.  At the conference, there were a couple of people who had spent this past year doing massive amounts of behind-the-scenes work to bring off an event in celebration of the UN's International Year of Indigenous Languages, and it seemed to me that it called for something more than a simple thank you note or email.  Thus, handknits. 

At a lovely breakfast with one of them, I gave her a shawl/scarf (I never quite know what to call one of those half-moon-type dealies), and was instantly reminded that she is also a maker.  Without a word, she took time to admire the stitches (from both sides), to look at the colors and the way they worked together, to feel the fabric and its drape.  She tried it on, and took it off and admired it again.  She talked about how she would use a pin that she recently made (that's her area of making) to wear it and how good it would look.  And then, just the other day, she sent me a picture of her wearing it.  Here's the thing: there's no way to actually know whether (a polite) someone really likes what we make for them, but the way a maker receives a handmade gift is such a delight - they appreciate the craft that went into the making, and they understand that at least part of the gift, is the gift of time and energy and creativity.  That's not to say that folks who aren't makers don't deeply appreciate handmade gifts - I regularly and with pleasure knit for folks who don't craft - it was just fun to see that other level of appreciation.

All right - time to tackle the inbox, and the ever-mounting pile of end-of-semester grading.  Wish me luck!

Day 20: A place to sit

My view for today's meditation:

When I can, I prefer to sit outside.  And there is truly nothing better than sitting near the ocean.  Add in a lovely, quiet, bluff-top garden, and I'm in heaven.  Today is my dear friend's birthday, and she decided that her celebration should start with some time in quiet beautiful contemplation, followed by lunch and a wander through shops, all with friends.  I think it ended up being as much a gift for us, as for her!

I hope your days had a bit of peace and quiet in them, too. Or raucous joy, whichever it is that you most need today.  I confess to being rather ecumenical about sources of joy, contentment, and peace.

Seriously?

How is it Tuesday already? Tuesday of this week, I mean; it would make sense if it were Tuesday of last week.

Admittedly, it's been a crazy week. Last week started with the orchestra festival I wrote about, then Older Daughter had hours of dress rehearsals on Monday afternoon and Tuesday evening, then on Wednesday, she had an orchestra performance, followed immediately by Younger Daughter's Spring Concert (we had 30 minutes to get from one to the other), in which Older Daughter had a part to play as well as an alumna of the school. Then on Friday, Older Daughter had another concert. Saturday, Younger Daughter danced at a local elementary school for their cultural festival, and Older Daughter had soccer.

Oy.

And then, after watching Older Daughter's orchestra (and the choir, directed by the same amazing woman) take a prize in the festival, and after listening to both groups perform on Friday night, and perform really, really well (let's be honest here, a beginning string orchestra can sound like they're torturing small furry woodland creatures, but these guys have worked hard, and they were playing some fabulous music and playing it well, and the choir sang the most astonishing range of chorales, in Latin, even, plus Leonard Cohen), and after hearing the announcements of where some of the participating seniors are going to college next year (including Carnegie Mellon), the school announced that they're cancelling the middle school choir program, and shutting down orchestra altogether.

So the fight is on.

I really don't have the energy for this right now, but I also am not going to let this one go without trying my damnedest to change this decision. We'll see what happens in the next week or so, and whether all of the parents and students can rally enough support to convince the superintendent to basically give the director the one extra class she needs during the day in order to be able to afford to run the after school program more or less for free. I'm keeping my fingers crossed, but I'm also feeling very overwhelmed.

Meanwhile, I did have one lovely and relaxing day last week, when I met up with Anne and Kim and Beckie in La Jolla.
We had lunch at the wonderful Brockton Villa, looking out over the La Jolla Cove, where the seals lie in the sun (that's what those fuzzy brown slugs on the rocks are).
Then we went shopping at our favorite little jewelry store. The best part, though, was being with good friends, and laughing, and visiting, and watching the reactions of other tourists to Anne's impromptu sock modelling shoot, using the ever-willing Kim and her gorgeous legs (Beckie's gorgeous legs had been on display the day before; I missed it, but you can visit Anne's blog and see just how much fun that was, too).

Here's Kim, preparing herself for her modelling stint:
The shoot:
You can only imagine the looks we were getting. Beckie and I spent some of the time looking in the tidepools, where we found all kinds of goodies, including anemones, my favorite. No pictures, though; I'm always too busy looking to think of it. It was hard to leave at the end of the day, but I was consoled by the fact that I'll be seeing Anne and Beckie (and my lovely SIL!) at the Great Lakes Fiber Festival in less than two weeks.

In the meantime, I am knitting, I promise! I got about four inches into the first of a new pair of socks Rick while sitting through Younger Daughter's spring concert before discovering that they were too big (how does one make socks too big for a man with size 13 feet? I ask you), and having to rip back again. I think I've got them right now, and I worked on them again during Saturday's soccer game. I'm using Sanguine Gryphon Bugga in the most gorgeous shade of dark blue, and can I just tell you that this yarn seems to be all it's cracked up to be? I'm loving it. I'm also finished with the body of the Henley Redux, and am now working my way up the first sleeve. Once the sleeves are done, I just need to sew them in and put on the collar and button band and away I go. I have high hopes.

In the meantime, I'll just keep on trucking...

Holes

The gathering yesterday at my LYS in honor of Sandy was amazing. I thought I had it together until I walked in and saw everyone there, gathered because of Sandy and the life she lived, and then, of course, I started crying. It took a while before I didn't start up again every time someone gave me a hug hello, too.

The thing of it is, there are obviously a lot of people for whom Sandy's loss is going to be a bigger, deeper, blacker loss than it can be for me; people in whose lives she played many and multiplex roles, who will have fewer places to turn that don't immediately remind them of what they've lost. It got me to thinking about the holes we leave in people's lives when we're gone. And of whether I'll leave any holes, and what kind they will be, and what kind I want them to be, and what that means about how I should live now.

Because let's face it, we all know people who, when they are no longer in our lives for whatever reason, leave holes that are shaped like regret and, guilt-tinged though it may be, relief.

The holes Sandy leaves aren't like that. They're shaped like sorrow, of course, but also like laughter, and good memories, and a profound sense of gratitude for having known her, however much I did get to know her. And I'm pretty sure, looking at that gathering of people yesterday, people who were brought together only and because of their gladness to have known this woman of generous spirit, that I'm not the only one who feels that way. It's a form of grace, and I hope, with all of my heart, that she knew before she went that this was the shape of her life, and of the loss that we all feel.

I spent a not insignificant portion of my weekend knitting quietly and thinking about these things, the image of holes being particularly salient in the knitting of lace, and considering what this might mean for me and for that quiet list of resolutions I keep in the back of my head (don't we all?), and by which I try, in my better moments, to live my life. All that thinking and knitting had at least one concrete result: I finished the Unbloggable Project (do I hear a sigh of relief?). It turns out that it's actually a Partially Unbloggable Project, or a Project Unbloggable In Its Details, and that I can tell you (as if you hadn't guessed, predictable person that I am) that it's Anne's latest, the Dovecote shawl, and that I can show it to you in its preblocking lumpishness.
This was a sort of dual test-knit for me, as I was not only working through the pattern (which was great fun to knit, with fabulous results; more on that when blocking shots come out), but also trying out some yarn that Jeane deCoster, my garment fit teacher at the Institute, sells. She wanted to put this lovely yarn through its paces, and when you ask me to put yarn through its paces, I think of lace, natch (does anyone still say that, or has it gone the way of ymmv?). The yarn is a lovely two-ply Shetland, and Jeane is dyeing it up in gorgeous colors, which you can see on that link. It's a fingering weight yarn.
The lace it produces is, as I knew it would be, rustic and looks handspun, which was exactly the kind of comfort I wanted in this shawl; I am feeling in need of comfort lately. It's soft and fuzzy, and I think it's going to be fabulously warm, trapping air in all the fuzziness. Definitely a good pairing, even if one that's rather atypical for me.

With luck, next time, I'll have a more knitting-centric post, and one with some bloggable progress. Meanwhile, happy Monday; be well.

Hookey redux and a sweater

It seems to be the week for fun adventures. On Tuesday, Rick and I played hookey together and went out for lunch and then to see Star Trek. We've never done that before -- bagged on work to go to the movies -- so there was a delightful feeling of getting away with something. Which we weren't, really, given how hard we've both been working lately; Rick's put in several very late nights (early mornings really; working until 2:30 am is just wrong), so it's not like he hadn't put in his hours for the week already. We both had fun at the movies, too; if you like great big space battles in which the good guys always win (except for those poor red shirts, but hey, if you put on a red shirt in Star Trek, you gotta know what's coming), then this is a good one.

And then yesterday, I got to go see Anne and Kim and Beckie! Whoo-hoo! Anne and Beckie (Beckie, do you have a blog I can link to? I forgot to ask...) came in from Ohio this week and are staying with Kim, so we met in Encinitas at Common Threads; such a fabulous yarn store, and just far enough away that I don't pop in all that often. I was very good and walked away with only one skein of yarn (I haven't taken any pictures of that yet, so I'll do a big picture post of new yarn acquisitions in a day or so), although I was terribly tempted by a skein of gorgeous burnt-orange Malabrigo sock yarn. Or the purple. Or maybe the bluey-greeny-grey skein. So much beautiful yarn, so little time...

Alas, I completely forgot my camera, if you can believe. I was so busy trying to be sure that I had my knitting, and that I'd done everything that needed to be done before I abandoned house and work and family for the day, that I forgot it. Anne posted a whole mess o' pics, though, so you can check those out. We went to lunch at Q'ero, a Peruvian restaurant that is absolutely fabulous, and where I ate probably more than I should have, but boy, every bite was delicious. And then we headed off to Chuao to have gelato (mmm....gelato...) and knit for a while. And we talked and laughed and talked. It was a perfect day.

And the best bit was, I'd managed to finish Ondule in time to wear it to show off to Anne. It took a late night (not too late; I was done by midnight-thirty or so -- why does finishing always take so much longer than it seems like it will?) to finish it up, but I'm so glad that I did. I made Rick take some pictures last night; the color is a bit ruddy, but it was getting on towards sunset when we took the pictures, which isn't always the best light.
This sweater was so much fun to knit. Once I got the hang of the pattern, it was completely intuitive, and I was able to read while knitting, which is why it moved so quickly. (I've spent the last couple of days reading textbooks on ethnography while knitting; getting work and knitting done at the same time is a good thing.) As you all know, I generally don't knit sweaters in pieces, but this one was so easy to do, and the pieces came together so nicely (and there are no separate button bands to knit, which made me happy), that it was well worth the piece knitting; I'd recommend this one in particular for anyone who's been thinking about knitting a pieced sweater but hasn't wanted to take the plunge.
I probably could have (should have?) knit it one size smaller; I have this terrible tendency to think that I'm even bigger than I am when it comes to knitting (and yet, somehow, to always be surprised at how big I look in pictures, which suggests that some part of me thinks that I'm smaller than I am; how many of me are there in my brain?) and to choose a larger size than I should. I think it's also because I don't trust my gauge swatches, and I figure that I can always wear a larger sweater (in fact, given that I prefer comfortable, loose clothes, I'm more likely to), but I can't and won't wear one that's too small. I need someone to be there when I go through patterns circling all the numbers for the size I choose, so they can go back through and circle the numbers for one size smaller when I'm not looking.
I love, love, love the corrugated rib in the peplum. Love it. And these buttons make me so happy. I got them in Santa Fe, when we serendipitously found a yarn store, Tutto, while looking for somewhere to eat dinner, and I wandered in and saw them and had to have them. I hadn't even seen the yarn yet when I bought them, but I think that they go together well. And the yarn. Have I mentioned how much I love this yarn? This is Briar Rose's Grandma's Blessing, an absolutely gorgeous superwash merino that is so soft and squishy. It's a delight to knit with, and the results are fabulous. I'm already trying to figure out what I can knit with it next. Maybe I need some more to knit something in the blue/green family? Maybe I should be good and wait until after Sock Summit (this is not some kind of major self-discipline on my part, btw; I'll be at the Briar Rose/Knitspot booth the whole weekend and it seems only fair that I should score some yarn for myself while I'm there, no? After all, I'm saving up my yarn budget for just that).

Tilly had fun getting in on the picture-taking action last night. It's hard to get her to leave me alone long enough to get a picture without a jumping dog in it.
So there you have it. Ondule is finished (yes, I'm wearing it right now, why do you ask?), and I'm going to try to get a few more things off the needles in the next week or so. I have the second Rogue Rose sock to finish, and the seasilk scarf I started, and my Louet linen shell. Meanwhile, I can start plotting the next new project...

Finishing objects

I meant to post on Wednesday, because I actually had something new to show you, and because I knew that I wasn't going to post yesterday. Alas, Wednesday went by a lot faster than I'd expected somehow (the space/time continuum never quite works the way I think it will -- am I the only one who has this problem?), and yesterday wasn't a day for posting, so here we are.

First, I've finished a pair of the languishing socks. I finished them on Tuesday night, in fact, hence the plans to post on Wednesday. These are Anne's Woodsmoke socks, knitted in STR lightweight from last year's sock club, in the colorway Lucky. I used size one needles. Love, love, love these socks. If only winter would come back so that I can wear them...
Aren't they fun? The textures are so deep and rich; I tend to think that these could be guy socks, too, depending on the guy.
Even the heels have all kinds of good things going on.
Hooray for beautiful, finished socks!

I promptly cast on for the second Kicking Leaves sock (Ravelry link), and by now I've finished the leg and turned the heel. It should be smooth sailing from here, and I expect to have them done tonight, or by tomorrow at the latest. Younger Daughter is very excited to have them nearing completion, and Older Daughter is starting to make little inquiring noises about when it's going to be her turn. I figure that as soon as I finish the conference socks (the last of my three unfinished pairs), I can start some for her and for Rick. Unless I decide to give Older Daughter the conference socks, which would probably be the right thing to do, but I adore that yarn, and have not been able to find another skein of it available anywhere. I called the yarn store where I bought it in Berkeley. I called the dyer for heaven's sake. No go. There's a skein of it for sale on Ravelry, but it's in a different colorway, and part of the charm of that yarn for me is the colors, so... We'll see. In any case, here's the progress on Younger Daughter's socks.
Clearly, green is a theme around here.

Yesterday was an absolutely fabulous day. It was so fabulous in fact that I completely forgot to take any pictures, so you'd better go here to see what happened (down at the bottom of the Point Loma post; don't forget to look at all of the glorious pictures of Point Loma on your way down the page). Anne and Kim (sadly blogless) and Nan (newly not blogless) all converged on my house yesterday morning. Nan arrived bearing the most yummy cinnamon rolls I have had in a long time. We sat and knitted and talked and talked and ate and knitted, and had a wonderful morning. Tilly even mostly behaved (a miracle of epic proportions). Then we went to lunch at the Stone Brewery, where the weather was so lovely that we could sit outside and enjoy the fresh air (and since we were in the shade, I even got to wear the kimono). A trip to the LYS of which I so often speak finished up a perfect day. Thanks, guys, for coming all of this way and for the wonderful company!

Today is a quiet day, and I am planning to spend some time in my front yard working on that second sock. Tilly has gone down the driveway to play with our neighbor's dog (seriously, when we're all home, they send their dog up the driveway for playdates; we share a very long driveway that is actually an easement through several properties, so the dogs are safe and have lots of room to run -- we're happy because they come home completely worn out!), and I have already gone to swim laps today, so no-one's in need of exercising or anything else. The weather looks like this:
and I think I should take advantage while I can.

Today is what?!

I'm having some trouble figuring out what day it is. If my calendar is right, it's Tuesday already. How did that happen? Last time I turned around to look, it was last Tuesday, and now it's this Tuesday, and that's pretty disconcerting. I'm behind on just about everything: laundry, exercise, sleep, getting over this head cold, knitting, reading blogs, writing blog posts, email. You name it, and it's not done.

But it's been a great week.

My parents and my aunt arrived last Monday, and we had a lovely visit with them. They admired our tree.
(That tin foil star on top? Rick made it for our very first tree in our very first apartment together, lo these many years ago, when we only had enough money for a teeny-tiny tree, one string of lights, and a box of red ornaments. I love it, and we're never replacing it.)

We had our Christmas eve party, and it was declared a success by all, even those who don't like pickled herring. Of course, we also had aqavit, glug, pork pies, pickled cabbage, cucumber salad, ham, cheese, bread, and rod grod for dessert. Mmm...

Christmas went equally well. The girls got the things that they most wanted (walkie-talkies for their expeditions into the ditch which is the open space between all of the yards in this part of our neighborhood, plus lots and lots of books), as did I. I'll share pictures of everything later, but for now can I just say Golding spindle, roving, and yarn?

On Friday night, we went to the Wild Animal Park for the festival of lights, which was great fun. The lions were in quite a mood just at dusk, making all kinds of deep throaty huffing noises, to our shivery delight (we all admitted that we really liked the look of the inch-thick pane of glass between us and them). We took the bus tour, which is fun to do in the dark, as the animals do all kinds of different things than they do during the day. It was cold, but I'd warned my parents and aunt to bring warm coats, so that was no problem at all (and it was not cold, I am absolutely sure, by the standards of those of you living in more easterly and northerly directions than I). I forgot the camera, so no pictures, but it's not like you can get very good pictures of animals at night in any case.

On Saturday, they all left, and we flipped the house in a couple of hours to get ready for a visit from one of my very best friends who is out here this week from Hawai'i. She thought it was really cold, which made me laugh in the same way that all of you northern and eastern people laugh when I say it's cold here. We had a wonderful time -- her girls and ours get along really well, which makes it even more fun to be together. We went to the zoo on Sunday, where I handed the camera off to Older Daughter who is much better about remembering to take pictures than I am. Of course, it's sometimes hard to tell what she's taking a picture of... (a warthog?)
But she got some great shots of the pandas.
And the polar bears.
(There are better ones of his face, but I am terribly entertained that he lies there just like Tilly does when she's chewing on a bone.)
And the mountain lions.
And her sister.
And her dad in his new sweater.
Yesterday, I had brunch with another dear friend in La Jolla while our friends from Hawai'i went to Legoland, and this morning, we saw them off to Disneyland for the rest of their trip. The house seems very empty...

So, the girls are weeding the garden (they've suddenly decided that they want to grow their own herbs and vegetables, and Older Daughter spent hours last night researching what should be planted this time of year, so who am I to discourage this behavior?), and I am going to start some laundry and sit down to spin a bit. Then I'll work some more on my kimono (I'm twelve inches into the back). Then I think it'll be time for a nap. I can't kick this cold (of course, some people -- coughRickcough -- would argue that I haven't been trying too hard, what with all the activity and late nights and all), so I think that some rest is in order over the next few days.

I hope that you all have had as wonderful a holiday as I have, filled with much love and laughter and friendship and joy.

26,686

That's how many steps I took on my long walk on Saturday with Anna and her Walk for the Cure teammate Nancy. Thirteen and a half miles worth. Four hours (it was hot and dry). I have to say, I'm pretty proud of myself. And my leg didn't hurt! (I know this doesn't sound like a big deal, but trust me -- it is.)

This was in the middle of a hectic day. The girls had soccer games in the morning, and as soon as I got home, we needed to head straight back out for one of my dear friend's annual Diwali party, which is great fun, and which involved me trying to get a sari on all by myself. I almost managed it, and required only minimal adjusting when I got there, and nothing fell down while I was in public (which I consider to be a feat worthy of recognition). I absolutely adore wearing a sari on this once-a-year occasion when I have an excuse to do so. Honestly, I so wish that I could wear one all the time; there's nothing like draping oneself in nine yards of fabric to feel all swishy and pretty. Alas that I was born in the wrong place. If I lived in India, I could probably get away with it, and if I were of Indian heritage living here I could probably get away with it, but being who I am living where I am, not so much.

Sunday was a more relaxing day. I spun another ounce of the Sanguin Gryphon roving; I am hoping to get it all spun and plied before my conference at the end of the month, so I can knit a scarf for myself out of it while I sit through talks. We'll see how realistic that is. I also got some serious knitting done on the baby blanket, and am through the skein of brown yarn, and onto the skein of blue. It doesn't look like much.
But it's progress. The little star in the middle turned out nicely.
We might be heading up north in a couple of weeks to visit, and I'm hoping to have it done by then, so I can give it to Rick's cousin in person. We'll see. It's a great project to knit while reading, which means, among other things, that I'm working my way rather quickly through Knitting America and will soon be on to No Idle Hands. (I should mention, by the way, that all y'all are some serious book-buying facilitators, not to mention research-doing supporters. I now know where to turn when it comes time to interview knitters, I think.) Knitting has finally made it so that I don't mind hardbacks so much, since they stay open while I knit (I mostly hate big books because I can't easily carry them around with me in the very small backpack I allow myself as a purse)(must protect the back).

Meanwhile, I started my day today with a lovely walk on one of my favorite local trails with both dogs (and Anna and her two dogs -- we were a herd!), who then spent the rest of the day sprawled around me at my desk while I worked on the presentation I need to give at that conference at the end of the month (eek!).
I was surrounded, as you can see.

Not a bad way to start the week. And now I'm off to start baking some butternut squash to go along with the sauteed sausages and peppers on pasta. Mmmm....

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.

All hail The Facilitator

I've been thinking a lot lately on the nature of enabling. And, generally speaking, I've decided that in my life it hasn't always been such a good thing (perhaps this can be discussed another time; I have more important, fibrous, matters on my mind today). I have also decided that it is a different thing to facilitation. While enabling often "helps" people to do what the enabler thinks they ought to do, or ought to want to do, facilitation seems to be more about being available to help with what the facilitated person actually wants to do. It's more about the desires of the facilitated, while enabling is more about the desires of the enabler. Discuss. (Kidding.)

Therefore, this post is dedicated to a facilitator par excellence (hi, Stella!). Thanks to her, I came home close to three pounds of fiber richer, and with a new wheel to boot. Look at this beautiful Pipy she found for me.
She had it all taken apart and wrapped up, and had put together the most amazing set of instructions, with pictures of the wheel at each stage of assembly (as an added side benefit, having spent time putting this baby together, I know have a much better understanding of the inner workings of wheels). I've been spinning on it all week (this is from the first session, I'm on the second bobbin of this fiber now),
and I love the way it feels. Among other very nice features, this wheel has little weights inset on it, so that it always resets at the right position to start treadling. How nice is that? And it came with eight bobbins. Eight. I feel rich, and very spoiled, in the best possible way.

Of course, a wheel without fiber is no fun, but Stella had that covered, too, in the form of 500 gms of undyed merino, and another 200 gms of black merino, and some lovely fiber that turned out (to both of our great pleasure) to be a merino/silk blend.
I know it's hard to see there, but there's enough of the unbleached merino to make a sweater. I'm not sure I can spin that much evenly enough right now, but soon...soon... I'm thinking maybe a real, live Aran? Or maybe I'll spin it and get someone with more color talent than I to dye it before I knit it up. The possibilities are endless. And I'm completely in love with the black. I have fantasies of plying it with the Jacob fiber that I got from our famer's market, which is a heathered blend of black and white; between the two, this might also be enough fiber for a sweater. We'll see...

Then, when we went to Touch, I had to get some yarn, right?
On the left is a merino/alpaca laceweight; I know it's hard to see, but it's got little bits of purple and green in it, and is wonderfully subtle. It has very little halo, so it's going to show up lacework beautifully. In the middle is a merino/alpaca blend boucle. Now, boucle is not generally my style at all (can't get the accents to show up on that word as they should), but I saw it knitted up, and it was so crisp and light that I thought I'd try to make a light cardigan for work out of it. And on the right is a merino/possum blend (I was in New Zealand -- I had to try at least one skein of possum, right?) that is destined to be mitts and maybe a hat for Rick. I figure this should keep me busy for quite a while.

Especially when added to this.
I bought all of those at Ashford. They're all merino/silk blends. Are they not absolutely stunning? The orange one on the right is not a color I generally wear, but it was so cheerful (just like orange sherbet) that I was incapable of leaving it behind. I might just keep it like that and pet it when I'm having a hard day.

So, I do believe that the New Zealand stash enhancement went well; thanks in no small part to Stella's facilitation, I got a wonderful mix of fibers and yarns, all of which are right up my alley and each of which will be used (it makes me fretful to buy things that I don't have some kind of planned use for). I figure I now have enough spinning fiber to keep me busy for a while, and since spinning increases the yarn stash in the long run, I have plenty of knitting fiber to keep me busy as well. The only hard part is deciding, when I do have free time (lol), whether to spin or knit. There are far worse decisions to have to make, eh?

The second half

To continue... (fair warning, the fiber photos will be displayed tomorrow, so for those of you who have come for the knitting content, you may move on -- nothing to see here but travel photos)

We left Wellington on Saturday morning, and arrived in Dunedin to find Stella and her whole family waiting cheerfully for us at the airport. It just doesn't get better than that. After picking up a rental car (and chanting my mantra to myself: left turns are easy, right turns are hard), we headed back to their house to rug up for the first of our adventures: penguins.

Older Daughter really wanted to see real, live, in-the-wild penguins, and Stella and Chris (her husband) facilitated beautifully. We headed out on the Otago peninsula to visit a penguin sanctuary there (Stella has the link on her post), and arrived in the middle of some serious weather. Sleet, wind, cold, the whole number. In fact, the guide told us that it was going to be a good day to see penguins, as quite a few of them had declined to go fishing that day, because it was so cold. Stop a moment and think about that. It was too cold for the penguins to go fishing. Heh.

Given that fact, the kids did spectacularly well. We were rugged up to the hilt (a new phrase that I've adopted and will keep for my very own), including an extra layer of waterproofs provided by the penguin people, who were dead to rights in continuing to offer them after our first polite refusals. The viewing of the penguins took place from within camo-covered trenches dug all over the hillside. Between that and the olive-green raincoats, the whole thing felt a bit like something out of WWI, except with penguins instead of mortars.
At various points along the way there were blinds from which we could watch the penguins. What I found absolutely amazing about the whole thing was that, far from hanging out on ice and snow like the usual pictures of penguins, these guys had schlepped their way uphill, inland, to hang out in the grasslands under trees. It was not at all the way one usually sees penguins in zoo exhibits, which somehow made the whole thing more real for me. Older Daughter was thrilled.
The guide had said we'd be lucky to see five penguins, and we saw eleven, including one guy who surfed in on the incredibly rough waves and trucked up the path near the blind, heading inland to his home. You can't see him in this picture, but you can see just how wind-driven that water is.
We saw both kinds of penguins that live there, the smaller blue ones, and the rarer ones with a yellow chin-strap.
We even saw a pair who were shacking up illicitly (the mate of the female was in the hospital due to injury, and she'd taken up with another male; the staff were apparently quite up on penguin liaisons).

The next day, we packed up and headed to Te Anau, where we'd planned to go on a tour of the glowworm caves. Alas, a rock in the roof of the cave had developed a crack, and our tour was cancelled until they could get an engineer in to assess the risk. It was the one bummer on the whole trip, which, as I said to Stella and Chris, was, in the end, pretty good, although a disappointment for everyone. However, we made up for it by going to visit a nearby bird sanctuary, which housed a rare takahe (they'd been thought to be extinct until the 1940's), who came right up to the fence to visit with us.
Her colors were absolutely gorgeous, and it was easy to see how such a slow, colorful, flightless bird could become quickly endangered by humans and habitat destruction. (Note Older Daughter eating snow; she was, I think, almost as excited by the snow as by any other part of our South Island exploits.)

We headed off to Tekapo for the night, and the drive was absolutely stunning. Older Daughter took tons of pictures from the back seat (including a number of amusing ones of both herself and of Stella's son, with whom she was completely charmed; they had some hugely entertaining discussions in the back seat, to which I listened like a fly on the wall -- it was interesting to hear the nine and ten year old version of the "getting to know you" conversation). But none of the pictures could really capture the grandeur of the bare valley, dotted with snow, with the white mountains in the background.
I should say here that Rick and I have made gentle fun of the name of some of these mountains for years, after seeing them when we were in NZ for our honeymoon, lo these many years ago. They're called the Remarkables, and we could both just imagine the quintessential English explorer, trucking his way through the central south island, coming upon these stunning mountains looming up out of the valley, and turning to his secretary, saying, "Remarkable, old chap, what say?" and the secretary duly noting this on his map in the section formerly labelled terra incognita. But as beautiful as they were when we saw them in the summer, the mountains in the winter truly are remarkable, so I should probably stop making fun.
We saw the steam train that still runs through this part of NZ in the summers.
And the Church of the Good Shepherd, which has behind its alter, instead of a stained-glass window, a clear pane of glass looking out over a stunning view. It was more inspiring than even the most beautiful rose window. (I think that what I've caught here is the window from the outside, with a reflection of that view; who knows if anyone can see it but me.)
Right next to the church is a memorial to the NZ sheepdogs who make sheep herding possible in this rugged country.
And in all of this well-planned trip, during which I followed Chris across hill and dale (he was one of those amazing leaders who never lost me, not once), we also got to visit Touch Yarns (yes, some stash enhancement occurred), and, mecca for a spinner, Ashford (you may imagine the sun breaking through the clouds to heavenly music here).
There it is. I even saw my Ashford wheel inside (Stella kindly took this picture; do you see the fiber wall behind me? That's all roving!)(And yes, some stash enhancement occurred).
(Anne, look where your shawl went!)

Could anyone have asked for a better three days? Or better companionship? I was introduced to rugging up (which we needed; it was -4 C in Tekapo), tiki touring, and I was provided with meat pies (mmm....); the conversation was excellent, and Older Daughter found new friends. Life doesn't get better than that.

This was a long post, so tomorrow, I'll finish up with pictures of the stash (and spinning) enhancement that took place with Stella's expert facilitation. Meanwhile, sock #1 is finished, and I'll show that off, too, and give an update on my Tour de Fleece spinning. I should say here and now that, in spite of all of my best intentions regarding the Summer of Socks, and the Loopy Ewe postcard, I took not a single picture which provides any evidence at all of travelling sock knitting, or of the fact that I carried the picture of Loopy with me all the way to NZ and back. Ah, well...