lifelong knitter

Dreaming

Thanks to brainylady alison I have been searching the net for vintage airstream trailers (there is one available right here in River City, but I know if I go to see it we'll have trouble with a capital T!) and fantasizing about being the Bookmobile Lady. Actually, in my dreams the mobiles have MUSIC and ART as well as books, all the stuff the schools seem to be cutting out of the budgets. Don't get me started on this unless you have a couple of MONTHS to hear me whine about my quest to introduce children of all ages to MUSIC and ART and LITERATURE...sigh. Yesterday I picked up the Boy Bird and we three went wandering in the Mommymobile. First day out after a week of cabin fever...everything looked new and amazing. The Boy has become a Man and mama bird is about to fall off her perch from proudness. (I know, I know, making up words again, but really, haven't you ever seen birds when they PUFF themselves up so big and fluffy they look like they are going to keel right over? C'est moi.) We drove by Latham (wink and wave) to check the road conditions and then on to the Mall to see our Friends. Visited the cookie lady at the bakery, the dough tossers and cheese graters at the pizza place, watched in fascination, as we always do, as the man Who Cleans the Escalators did his impeccable job, oblivious to the zillion sticky fingers about to undo it all. We asked him about this once. He grinned a HUGE brilliant smile and said proudly "I always got me a job long as folks gots fingers." He's from Ethiopia. Has an advanced degree. Speaks like that to put the locals at ease. OMG. The things you can learn at the Mall. We are always befriending the Invisible People. The ones who Make Things Work. Sometimes we go really early in the morning to watch the huge bucket trucks drive into the mall and there is a guy who goes WAAAAY up high and changes all of the lightbulbs in the mall BEFORE they burn out. Did you know they use different colors in different places? Neither did we until we asked. This all started when Boy bird was little and was terrified of escalators. It took ten years or so of once a week going to places that had escalators and talking to people that fixed them and cleaned them and little by little we overcame the fear and now we can not only ride on escalators but we could probably build one if we needed to. The real reason for yesterdays trip to the Mall was to get The MAP. The man who is in charge of security at the Mall knows us WELL (we introduced ourselves early on since we figured he needed to know us if there was a Seizure Episode or some such thing...and as usual, he turned out to be One Cool Dude.) When they change the Maps at the Mall (the ones that show you the YOU ARE HERE spot and how to spend the most amount of money in the shortest possible time....) Joey gets the Ones They Throw Away and puts them up in his room like huge posters. Now that he lives in his own nest, he wanted the HOLIDAY MAP for his new place. End of January they put up the new MAPS....so I left the MALL with a wildly grinning young MAN with a MAP under his arm and a small bag of freshly baked cookies and a belly full of fries. Home before dark and back to my knitting. Life is SWEET.

Sheep Thrills

I know I promised Annie a Danger Girl adventure, but that will have to wait for another day....today is the day TASHA gets to tell a story...ok girl...come on, just put your paws on the keys and....oh. OK. REALLY? You want me to tell it? (Tasha informs me that she is a little worn out from all the excitement of yesterday and since I was THERE and all, maybe I could tell the story....for her.)
As I have probably mentioned several times, Tasha lives to chase the mailman and the ups guy and the Fedex driver....highlight of her day, protecting her Mommy from those men in uniforms...I keep trying to explain to her that they are BRINGING me things, not taking things away...to no avail. The chase is the thing. Yesterday afternoon, Tasha was peacefully snoozing on her faux sheepskin rug in front of the fire when WHAT did we hear but a VAN crunching up to the front walk..door slamming, big boots stomping up to the front door....by now Tasha is in full alert mode, sounding the alarm. The INTRUDER (this is Tasha's story) stomped his big ole boots on the porch to de ice them and turned the old fashioned doorbell handle. THen he pressed his nose against the front door glass to peer in....(oh please,please,please....let him get stuck....what fun THAT would have been....) and then Mommy opened the door. Just as I suspected, it was one of those Guys With The Packages....grrrrrrrrrrrr. Oh wait, what's this? that package is for ME? REALLY? and what is that wonderful smell? oh joy, the enemy has brought me my very own flock of SHEEP. The mailman handed TASHA the package, which was addressed to HER!
I tried to take pictures of Tasha carrying the Express mail envelope in her mouth, but between laughing so hard and trying to figure out why she was so deliriously happy about this (I hadn't opened it yet) I have several shots of the floor where she WAS just a moment before the picture was taken..and a couple of pictures of the side of my shoes....okay, so I finally got the package away from her to OPEN it and O.M.G.
Direct from the fabulous Stonering in the Pacific Northwest is TASHA's very own flock of sheep...wow. In human terms, this may look like four ziploc bags with writing to identify the fleece breeds...but to TASHA, these are actual sheep for her to herd and protect. All afternoon she pushed the pieces of fleece across the kitchen floor, herding them into the corner and then collapsing in front of them to take a nap after a job well done. She was willing to share them with me, but kept a watchful eye to be sure I didn't remove even a smidge of fiber for that *spinning thing* that sometimes catches an unsuspecting dog's TAIL....ouch!
If there is a Make A Wish Foundation for dogs, let me just nominate STONERING right this minute to be featured in the commercial. WOW> You rock! Tasha says thankyouthankyouthankyou.
I am humbled and touched by this gift. May the BLESSINGS be multiplied a thousand fold......NAMASTE!

Architecture and Bookmobiles

These are a few of my favorite things.....ever since I was very, very small, I have been into the details. It helps when your earliest visual memories are of European cathedrals and your Daddy patiently (in my memory anyway) answers all of your *was ist DAS, papa?* questions. Arches and spires and vaulted ceilings and thick walls made of stone and doors that are made of glass (sometimes stained in a rainbow of colors)which open OUT onto the garden or the balcony...Someday I am going to build myself a round turret room with a spiral staircase and line the walls with books and window seats to read by the light of the moon. Really, I am. We'll have our Knitblogger meetings there....mark my words. When we returned to America, the lack of interesting architectural detail (sorry, this was california in the 1960's folks, not a gothic cathedral in sight ;) was nearly obliterated by the arrival of a vehicle with magical possibilities....the BOOKMOBILE stopped right at the edge of our driveway. The thought of this still makes me swoon, and probably accounts for my addiction to book of the month clubs...well, that and the fact that camphill is a supported living community much like the one my son lives in.....YES, I am all over the map this morning. YES, there is a good reason. (besides caffeine) Night before last I dreamed of the childhood library....last night I went a little further back and dreamed of the house we lived in on Beechwood Lane. The fig tree, the dichondra lawn, the lanai...oh my. The quintessential California ranch. It is no longer there, the new owners having torn it down and built a mini faux-chateau right to the absolute limits of the property lines (not to mention the boundaries of good taste, but never mind....)what I want to talk about is the BOOKMOBILE. I can still feel the air in there. It quivered with discovery. The door opened like a school bus, on one of those pivoting handles, and the stairs were covered in that rubber industrial treading...and I always said a quick, silent *thank you thank you thank you GOD, wherever you are, for this BOOKMOBILE* before I crossed the threshold. I often hoped I'd get to ride the route in the bookmobile, happily reading the day away on the floor, but alas, no such luck. Do bookmobiles still exist? How much fun would it be to bring them back and be the bookmobile lady in my next life? Knitting at each stop so the children could read as long as they like, and OH the possibilities!
Here's wishing you a day of dreaming about such joy and wonder, it sucks the breath right out of you and makes you SMILE! Namaste.

Blinded by the light...

WOW. The SUN is shining,the ice is melting and all seems right with the world. Seems being the operative word here. Although I am literally starving for sunlight, the most dangerous thing for me, post eye surgery, is reflective glare. I looked out the french doors for a minute, smiling at the sunshine, and then couldn't see at all for a couple of minutes. Panic. Even now my peripheral vision is all fuzzed up, so I will have to wear my *european snowboarder* dark shades today, even to look out of the kitchen window. sigh. MUST.BE.PATIENT.
I stayed up until the wee hours of the morning finishing the secret project, and I don't like it. RATS. This is what I get for *blindly* following a pattern for an object not pictured in its final glory. Oh dear. It is against the rules to post a picture, so you'll just have to take my word for it. NOT.WHAT.I.EXPECTED. Back to the drawing board. Literally.
I had dreams about the library of my childhood last night. I could see, in exquisite detail, the spines of the books, the texture of the carpet, the dust floating in the shafts of sunlight, the change of venue from the children's section to the HUSH of the grownup's wing. The rush of cars on El Camino Real, the fruit tree orchards. I know it doesn't look like that any more, but such is the inescapable lure of dreams....things are as you expect them to be, always, and that is a comforting thought.
Tomorrow maybe I'll venture out to reassure the Mommymobile that I still love her dearly. No reason to chip off the ice if it will melt all by itself, n'est pas?

RUH-ROH!

Thanks to the fabulous Bonne Marie...I now know that I NEED the new Rowan mag 35. OMG. How many days until Spring? Anybody know how to make one of those cool countdown thingies for THAT? Cuz I have enough Calmer in my stash to knit Iris...and if I could just.chip.the.ice.off.the.mommymobile.....nope.
TASHA votes for staying in and drooling by the fire. ok sweet doggie. You win.
Oh, and one more thing....where is the Rogue along? Links, anyone?

RED Rouge(r)

OR: Hey there Little RED Riding Hoodie....
Due to the Very Well Documented problems photographing red knitting, I will spare you the agony of trying to see the RED wool hanging in my shower after a eucalan dunk. I went through my stash and found (ta-da) the perfect yarn for the rogue hoodie. I just think this is the most elegant (like the mathematical equation, not like the little black dress) pattern I have seen in a long while. I just keep gazing at it in wonder. wow. I am determined to finish kiwi (and another secret project) FIRST, but now I'm on my way. Oh, and despite my desperate attempts to avoid *yet another hobby* I think I am smitten with needle felting. More on this as I get (hopefully) more proficient. I have to keep this short as it really is still just TOO cold for me to think or type with any reasonable accuracy. Back to knitting by the fire it is, thanks ANN!

Frozen fingers

Seriously, it is just too cold to type. It was seven degrees F here yesterday. (inside joke...it's been warmer in MONTANA this winter!) The house is 85 years old and lacks a few modern conveniences like insulation, weather tight windows (although they are leaded glass and gorgeous) and sealed floors. My computer is against a NORTH wall because that was the only place a dsl line could be installed due to the metal lath underneath the hand troweled plaster walls....don't get me started. THis is a book all by itself. Girl meets house....and gives up any hope of a fashion statement, life without closets! I have on three layers of everything.....and no place to keep it. Oh the things we do for LOVE. (are you hummin it yet? You know you wanna.....the THINGS we do for love....) Tasha is doing so much better on the phenobarb, and now that I KNOW what the problem has been it is SO much easier to deal with. I hate not knowing what is going on.In knitting news, I'm completely smitten with the rogue hoodie from the girl from auntie. OMG. I have promised myself I won't start it until kiwi is finished, but I am dreaming about the possibilities for yarn. ARAN weight just sounds SO great when you are shivering. This is Danger Girl, reporting live from the frozen tundra....

Perfect Weather

100% chance of freezing rain. Perfect. Matches my mood exactly. Yesterday, while most of the population around here was stocking up on bread and milk, I went to the library, the craft store, and of course,my LQ/YS. Hometown alert for maggi: Randy has started KNITTING *hee* I wonder how THAT happened, and is now carrying Rowan books and some fabu yarns and patterns....I waved to your parents on the way :) I intend to stay right here by the fire, knitting and reading and saying prayers. Tasha and I just came in from chasing the first flakes....as dangerous as the ice is, always amazes me how beautiful it is. sigh.
I'm going to reread all of the comforting notes and comments and then surf some blogs. Perfect.

Lights in the DARKNESS

Yesterday while I was waiting for the results of the scan, and the prognosis from the doggie neurologist, lights came on in the most unexpected places. A phone message on my answering machine turned out NOT to be THE NEWS, but rather the sweetest voice from across the Pond...a faithful friend I've never met, and her animal companion, wishing us the best. I played it several times during the day and just felt warmed, as I do when I stand by the fireplace on a chilly morning. Throughout the day,as my confidence wavered, emails and comments and phone calls came in, just when I needed them the most. As I sat quietly, knitting kiwi sleeves and praying for someone's little mama, I suddenly had a picture of CANDLES being lit and held on high to ward off the darkness. Dark it was, too, when the news came. There is a tumor, in all probability a Glioma, in the olfactory area of the brain. Prognosis is poor. Tasha is on phenobarbitol to ward off additional seizures, but the prednisone he would usually prescribe is precluded by the diabetes. She is resting comfortably on her nice clean sheepskin, and has just had her morning exercise, which consists of chasing the mailman's shadow from window to window as he crosses the porch with the mail. There is a nice bright patch of sunlight to rest in. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for the comments and phone calls and emails.....Just exactly what I need right now. If I don't get back to you by email, please be patient with me. Namaste.

Tasha

Roughly ten years ago I rescued two bedraggled puppies from the middle of the street on a cold, wet, rainy day. I asked around and found the house they had wandered away from. I parked on the street and started up the walk to *return* the puppies. A young, very pregnant teenager sat on the porch in a rocking chair, smoking. Before I got a third of the way to the door, the MAN of the house appeared. Holding a shotgun on his hip, he spit a long stream of tabaccy into the mostly dirt yard and narrowed his eyes. "help 'ya?" I explained about the pups. He confirmed they had come from his yard, but had no interest in having them returned...finders keepers 'n all. I mumbled a quick thank you and stepped quickly out of the yard and bolted for the station wagon. I was soaked and shaking and FURIOUS. The male puppy was pacing back and forth making nose prints on every available glass surface. The female waited an instant for me to slide behind the wheel and start the engine, then slid into my lap and began to cry. I drove straight to the vet. I knew better than to take two stray animals home to the 85 year old house I had just begun renovating, where my allergic to everything springerspaniel puppy and my cat would not be amused. The kids were in school for another couple of hours. The vet gave me the usual *you can't rescue everybody and everything* lecture and then said he was sure he could find a home for the male, all black, obviously part shepherd. The female was still firmly attached to me. The vet sighed and said "that dog has found HER home, that's for sure. Judging from the size of those paws though, she's gonna be BIG. Don't you have enough on your plate?" The puppy looked into my eyes and snuggled closer. That was the end of that discussion. Tasha came home with me, and after the inital growl sniff snap chase the cat couple of weeks, settled in to be the most GRATEFUL dog I have ever known. She seemed to know she had been rescued. Ate whatever was offered, slept on any surface, protected me vociferiously. Last year, exactly a year ago yesterday, her constant companion had a seizure, was rushed to the neurologist and died ten days later from spinal cancer. Tasha has been inconsolable. I have not been able to leave her for more than a couple of hours, and she has had every possible health problem along the spectrum. Insulin shots twice daily for diabetes, special prescription food for digestive ailments, and constant company for what can only be depression. She has grieved the world's greatest spaniel and it has almost killed her. Yesterday at 5AM, EXACTLY, to the day, she had a massive seizure and was rushed to the same doctor that treated Crosby. Today she will have a CAT scan (shouldn't there be dog scans for them?) to determine whether she has a brain tumor as he suspects, or is just dying of grief. If necessary, she will be transported five hours to the nearest MRI scanner in use for veterinary practice. Her (synthetic) sheepskin is in the dryer, her handmade quilts in the wash, awaiting her return. She has been a good and faithful companion, always greeting me at the door with a smile and a wag of the tail and LOVES it when I bring home real wool...hey MOM, that used to be a SHEEP! A friend of mine, who volunteers for the local ASPCA remarked once that she wasn't sure she believed in any of that resurrection, past life stuff, but if it WERE true, Tasha must have been very very very good in a former life to end up as MY dog. I feel like it is CLEARLY the other way around. I hope among your many blessings, you are able to count LOVE, of the unconditional animal companion variety. Strangely, sleeve knitting, ordinarily the bane of my existence, has been the only thing I can concentrate on. Go figure.