Zeneedle...needleart as life

Don't Just Stand There - KNIT!

BlogFree Val knew I was a bit stressed last week before everyone arrived, so to relieve some of my guilt for letting the blog go dark, she sent her reply to a recent OpEd piece from the local newspaper. Val is knitting a sock while waiting with friends (who are drinking martinis!) at the Camp Cloud Rim. It's a pair of socks she donated to the Girl Scouts auction. Way to go Val and thank you SO much for the post!

Dear Ann,

Here's the perfect solution to productively and patiently standing in line: knit socks.  Now don't stop reading yet.  In the spirit of your columns, here are the top ten reasons for sock knitting in line:

1. They are small, lightweight and fit in your purse, to be on hand at all times when you have a spare moment.  Say while checking out at Home Depot behind a contractor with a flat cart of sheet rock and all the requisite accessories.
2. They are entertaining and always spark a conversation, which inevitably begins with "what in the heck are you crocheting?" and can lead in endless fascinating directions like economics, sheep husbandry, and bamboo versus aluminum needles.
3. They are entertaining and can successfully terminate unwanted conversations with the simple "sorry I can't chat but I'm really concentrating here".
4. Knitting is meditative and can instantly transport you from the nerve-wracking din of babble, crying babies and annoyed public service employees at the DMV while you wait an hour and a half to have the worst photograph of yourself ever taken.
5. It has the magical power of having your doctor's nurse open the door and call your name at the exact moment you take the first stitch, saving you hours of waiting.
6. It is satisfying to actually accomplish something while waiting for the snowplows to clear the road up Big Cottonwood Canyon, other than watching the other testy powder hounds pace up and down the closed road.
7. Given waits for checking in, security, ordering a double latte, delays, layovers and baggage, at the end of traveling round trip from Salt Lake to Florida, you can actually have a warm and beautiful pair of socks to don when the door opens and you realize it's not 84 degrees anymore.
8. It looks really difficult but is not, giving you a boost of self-esteem when others waiting in line roll their eyes in wonder and awe.  I'm certain it's wonder and awe.
9. It is effective self defense because even while knitting, you can hold four double-pointed needles in such a fashion as to warn off any potential threats without actually having to arm yourself.
10. At the end of the day when your kids'/husband's/golfing buddy's friends ask them "where did you get those cool socks?", they'll be able to say "my mom/wife/hacker made 'em!"

Just in case you forget the book and paper next time!

best,
Blogfree Valoree

Strange Brew

Today's blog post is brought to you by Blogless Val.  Our Sunday Stitch 'n Bitch was so strange that only she could do the story justice.  Read, believe and enjoy.

~~~~~~

So there we are, sitting and knitting, minding our own business on a calm quiet spring-like Sunday afternoon. Well, minding our business as well as can be for a group of ten knitters who had taken over half of the coffee shop.  The group was larger than usual, in part due to Monday being a holiday, in part due to the balmy gottogetoutside weather.  Or maybe it was because Katherine had a gorgeous burgandy cardigan (her first sweater, ever) to show off. 

We were eating calzones, decadent donuts, sipping coffees of all sorts and clucking over Margene's 600 yards of lavender, grey, periwinkle, your guess is as good as mine handspun angora bunny yarn, when, and I'm totally serious about this, the universe folded in on itself. It was suddenly 1967. 

In walks this bearded, tie-died, headband wearing, authentic hippie.  And he's not quiet.  First he announces that there was an energy surge in the room.  Then he guesses that it was from Margene.  He begins to do a number (oops, numerology) on her.  He had believed her to be an 8, but after calculating her birthdate and name, startled us all by discovering she is  really a 149.  I can't recall if the numbers were influenced by her name (Mars Genie), or vice versa.  But her name definitely made an impression.  She has the card to prove it. 

I can't be sure, but I think we were all invited to come knit on open mic night at another coffeeshop, so impressed was he with the creative energy surging through the Perk what with all the socks, pullovers, cardigans, Arans, Fair Isles and warshrags being lovingly stitched together before his (and his side kick Mongoose) eyes.  Yes, there was a side kick. 

The only connection to 2007 was that he took a call (not quietly) on his mobile phone.  Then he told the barista to give his name to the jeweler whose work was on display, because he sells stones and crystals on the side.  (I don't want to know what his day job is.) Before he left, riding away on a southerly wind (no, actually in a Honda Civic), he posed for his picture (without, as I had half expected, protesting about losing his soul to the camera) and told us his name: JWE (pronounced juh-wee).  If it weren't for the photo and the nine other witnesses, I wouldn't have believed it either.

As I'm looking out the window this morning at five inches of snow, I know the universe has straightened itself out.  It's not April 1967 anymore, it is definitely February 2007.  Thank goodness.

A Final Word, About Family

There would likely be no knitting if someone hadn’t taught us. I’ve had my share of teachers along the way. I have finally gotten to the point where I can correct my own mistakes and try something new that requires a higher level of patience and focus. But I still need help, and when I drop a yarnover (or leave one out…will I ever get the hang of lace??), read the pattern wrong, or pull out the grey poncho one more time, my friend Marge (usually spelled as me: Marge? Her: WHAAAT?) will be there to patiently set me back on course with a “you can do it, silly.”

I have even taught some to knit, which is a humbling achievement. To see someone who had never touched yarn or needles blithely knitting away on a lovely project that makes her happy is well, indescribably satisfying.

So here are the three people who taught me to knit. Since it has become my passion, they deserve the satisfaction of starting me down this path many years ago and keeping me going even though there were times I thought it was a lost cause.

This is my mom. She knitted everything as far back as I can remember. Argyle socks for my dad. Golf club covers. A yellow mohair dress for me in the 60s that required huge needles (20s? 30s?) but that was so heavy it grew a few inches every time I wore it. A sage green 3/4 length Chanel coat in mohair for herself that was lined with satin and I thought was about the most gorgeous thing I’d ever seen. A forest green turtleneck poncho that she made for me to take to college and that I wore every day because the cold and clammy Northwest chilled me to the bone. I have it still (the poncho, I left the chill behind). Baby blankets for every grandchild, personalized Christmas stockings for the boys, the “owly” sweater and matching hat for my first son. I cannot remember (or, sadly find pictures of) them all. She is responsible for the project that got me knitting again recently and for all eternity, which I found in my closet after a hiatus of almost 20 years. She had bought me the wool and pattern after my second son was born. I guess we thought with a full time job and two boys, I’d have time to knit a cabled tunic in denim Lopi. Well, I did, just not in 1984. I finished it (with help from my sister) in 2003. My mom didn’t get to see it finished, but I don’t think it’s worrying her. I imagine her sitting in front of a fireplace somewhere, with a cup of coffee and her knitting, at peace at last. I still have her tapestry knitting bag and all her needles (save one pair which she probably snuck away), displayed in a glass vase like ever-blooming flowers.

My oldest sister (left in the 'then' photo, right in the 'now') is a very talented knitter who has got me unstuck countless times. As she rarely lived nearby, it was always days if not weeks before I could move along. [No wonder I keep stopping one thing and starting a new project. That’s all I could do for awhile.] So the first thing I’d do when I saw her is throw some sweater piece at her and ask her to fix it. She always has. This phenomenon must be common. Once I got my son’s grey cabled sweater well under way, I went to my LYS and asked for help, even though I had not bought the yarn there. I explained that I’d have to wait to see my sister and I was eager to keep going. The shop owner nodded knowingly. Her sister lived in England, and would always send her the sweater pieces to be sewn together, which of course she always did. My sister has maintained the next generation baby blanket tradition, for grandkids and lucky nieces, nephews, grand-cousins and the like. You can see one of them here (and another gratuitous photo of the granddaughter...). The only trouble with her is she knits really fast. I had begun my first pair of socks and was plodding along while on a trip together last year. She praised my tenuous efforts, and we knitted together while stopping at every yarn store between La Conner and Gig Harbor, Washington. (I think there were six.) I’d been home about two days and was probably a good two inches farther on the first sock, when she called to tell me she had made a pair for her granddaughter! Passive-aggressive braggart!

My older sister is also a prolific knitter, and now has three grandsons to knit for. We recently went to a Knitters Retreat at Alta together, and I think she finished something for each of them over that weekend. Always a bold public knitter, she knitted at major league baseball games before it was cool. Some of the fisherman knit sweaters she made for her husband 20 years ago are still worn routinely. If I’m not mistaken, she has knitted many items in the colors of various teams – and it doesn’t matter if they’re pro, collegiate or preschool.

As in many families, the craft has not stopped there. My three nieces (daughters of the above) and my daughter-in-law are now knitting. My hope is to put my needles in Baby Bo’s hands on my next visit, and ‘secure her future’ as well.

Since I talk a lot about my knitting friends, I thought it only right to end with my knitting family. I think Jean said it best in her comment on Tuesday about her great-grandmother, who she never knew, but whose scarf she still has: “”When I hold it, I feel blessed to have an insight into who she was and proud to take part in something she was so talented at. Maybe someday, my great-granddaughter will hold something I made and feel the same.”

What fun. Thanks Margene, and welcome home.

PS The pattern for the baby dress pictured in the first post is the Mini Pini, from the book "minnies: quickknits for babies and toddlers" by Jil Eaton. Yarn is Zodiac 100% cotton from Karabella.

Stories: How We Fill the Gaps

Part Two. Who doesn’t like a good story? If there is anyone, I don’t think I’ve ever run across him. Ever wonder where stories come from? Why they matter, endure? Why even the word “story” makes your ears perk up?

Well, I have. Last weekend, I noticed that the notion of story came up often, and in surprising ways.

It started with a story, naturally enough. This one about a grandmother, unhappily trying to adjust to her new life in assisted living. While she complained about the food, the heat, the “old people”, being lonely, the granddaughter focused, probably out of self-preservation since she was there to keep her grandmother company, on the other people who lived there. None of them were, at least just then, complaining about the food, the heat, or anything else. And one of them was telling a story about a child and a whale from a book she had just read. Her own story was equally good. She lived her whole life in the same town in Iowa before she moved to Oregon to be by her only son. She started out as a farm wife, and then became a school teacher. Her move to Portland was her first trip from Iowa. Fascinating enough. But the really cool part? She was a professional storyteller. Who knew people could tell stories for a living? I guess people who write books and make movies and for that matter make power point presentations to sell stock tell stories for a living. But I had never heard of anyone who calls herself a storyteller, and I thought about that woman for a long time. Think what a treat it would be to eat dinner every night with someone who can tell you the weather forecast in a way that can make you forget it’s institutional meatloaf, again. Lucky Grandma.

The movie we watched that night was “Out of Africa” with Robert Redford and Meryl Streep. (It’s an older movie, but ever since seeing “The Devil Wears Prada” I have been on a Meryl Streep retrospective. Thank goodness for Netflix.) Among other things, Streep’s character was a storyteller. She would take a first sentence offered by someone else (in this case the rugged/tender Zen master of the African bush Bobby Blue Eyes) and spin, weave, twist, caress, knit and embroider (and you thought I couldn’t work hand crafts into this post) a tale so rich and complex that it would enrapture her listeners over several courses and numberless bottles, by the light of a full silver candelabra to the embers of the fire to the first light of dawn. Powerful stuff.

Then I got a letter in the mail. It was from a colleague who had worked for me at least ten years ago and with whom I hadn’t corresponded in all that time. He had tracked me down on the phone to ask me to be a job reference and we caught up over the many life changes ten years can bring. For me that included becoming a grandma. My kids were probably 8 and 10 the last time he saw them, so imagining one of them married was even a bigger shock to him. He told me he remembered a story I’d told him once from when I was pregnant. I was a secretary then, and it was back in the day of electric typewriters. My stomach was so big that it sat at the edge of the typewriter stand and I had to reach way over to reach the keys. Son #1 was exercising his soccer kicks at that point I guess, and punched a long pass to midfield. He kicked so hard, my chair rolled back away from the desk. To think that story became a memory that reaches beyond the boundaries of our family.

So I conclude that stories are like glue. They fill in the gaps of time from past to present. They hold young and old together. They hold fast knowledge until the next generation gets there. They reach deep into strangers’ hearts and bind them beyond explanation.

My knitting friends are full of stories, and I want to tell them. These are women so full of life and creativity it sometimes leaves me breathless in wonder. I have sat listening in the places I knit: the knitting store, the coffee shops, the ski resort for three autumn days, stunned by their sheer verve (let alone their plentiful and inspiring FO’s).

My shorthand for their endless list of projects and interests and talents is “Purse Handles or the Tearoom” signifying the bewildering breadth of choices available in one email exchange last spring: where can you buy cool, high quality purse handles for the item made for the bag swap, and what time was high tea and did you have to wear a hat? There has to be a story there. Also in "And the Judge Knits", "You Call That Fleece?", "The Other Half of the BLT", "What Does Harry Have to Do with It?", "I am Dyeing to Spin", "Road Trip!", "Weezy and Petey", "Gotta Go, I Just Got Paged", "Margene Crafts a PhD", and other equally intriguing insights into the lives of some of SLC's finest as observed from the black sofa in poor lighting. Or Alta Lodge overlooking the Collins Lift.

Anyway, for those of you kind enough to encourage me to blog, or at least write more, you can see I have plenty of material. Now if I can just get a handle on the visual elements…

Stranger in a Strange Land: Blogless Val Goes Public

First.  Do not panic. MARGENE WILL BE BACK.  This temporary guest author thing is simply to give her a guilt-free respite and allow her to focus entirely on her exploits at Rhinebeck.  Which from all indications appear to be meeting every knitter, spinner and/or dyer on the East Coast in about 36 hours. (Sounds a bit like a recent book tour we may have read about.  But this one will not end in a wedding.  Those of you who have met Smith know what I'm talkin' about.) 

Now, so as not to cause her any worry while she in on the Grand Tour, your job is to skim the blog, gaze at a photo or two, and leave as many comments  as you can (preferably NOT along the lines of “how many more days until Margene is back?”).  Mine is to be witty and engaging and hopefully to generate more comments than Margene.  Because, the more successful I am at that, the larger more expensive more generous will be my promised fiberly reward from Rhinebeck.  So please, for my sake, comment, comment, comment and our rightful places in the universe will be restored in short order.

Second.  I’m grateful to be asked to take over Margene’s blog.   What a gig for the one who is not only blogless, but doesn’t spin, dye, or make soap, can’t use -- let alone spell -- knitty/noddy, can't wrap text on a blog, and doesn’t even own a digital camera for Pete’s sake.  So who the heck am I and how did I get this plum assignment?  The first part is easy, the second has something to do with “Purse Handles or the Tea Room”.  More on that part later.

First part.  I’m single, a first-time grandmother (she’s now 4 months old and Even More Gorgeous).

am mother of two magnificent grown sons (one a philosopher and the other a scientist, and yes the dinner table gets quite exciting), am four years retired from a dream career that aged me in dog-years, and I'm old enough to join AARP but not for Medicare.

Once I retired, I picked up a 19 year-old sweater, and finished it.  I have been knitting pretty continuously, though not finishing as rapidly, ever since. 
This is one of my first, and favorite, FOs (and he's wearing a sweater that I made him).

This is one of the latest FOs, and probably the cutest. 

Not a bad life.  But let me say here and now, that meeting the knitters of EweTah has been a saving grace for me.  The SnB’ers think they’re in the minority in this State, but the truth is they don’t know the meaning of the word. Get this: I’m a conservative, don’t smoke or drink but ski like I wish I was 17, love life and the natural world,

was born in Utah (that's me in the middle, front row)

and am very active in my faith but am not of the “predominant religion.”  Let’s face it.  That combination puts me at odds with just about every person or group I’ve encountered since I moved back in 2004.  (Yes, I left, lived elsewhere for 35 years and MOVED BACK. Willingly! But look at this sky and you won't ever again wonder why.)
 

Every group, that is, except it seems, people who knit!  (Well, there was this one knitter who…oh, but never mind.  She moved to Wisconsin.) 

Without waxing too poetic, perhaps it is the love of wool that binds us together deep below the surface tensions of age, gender, politics, religion, culture, hair color or birth order…  Something mysterious that adjusts the lenses so that you can see through the differences, and instead focus on the commonalities in things that really matter:  good humor, genuine caring, appreciation of beauty in all its forms.  From these interesting and creative women who knit, I've learned about beauty in things like root beer floats on a sweltering Tuesday night, the choreography of a spring shearing of alpaca, the pure elegance of Chibi needles, the simplicity of peach jam, dark secrets of rye bread, the joy of other peoples’ toddlers, the ache of another's painful relationship, and the majesty of swell red pumps.  And then, there is always the bond created by the secret knowledge that today -- somewhere, somehow -- someone is using her hands to create a skein of yarn, in a weight, with a combination of color and fibers that has never existed before, and that tomorrow, in your hands, it will become something new and frankly, quite magical.  We all share that much -- and upon reflection -- a great deal more.  And for that friendship, ladies, I am genuinely grateful. 

Part two in a couple of days.  Now wait till you meet Karen.  She really can spin and dye and knit and all that way cool stuff....

So Long for Now

Yesterday was so beautiful and I caught this shot just as the clouds slipped away from the mountains. See the new snow?  Brrr, it was a cold day.

The trip has begun and we'll be in the East by 4:30 EDT.  Just to show you how much I love you, arrangements have been made with two very nice Stitch 'n Bitch grrls (both blogless) to guest blog while I'm away.  Karen, who is an excellent knitter, dyer and spinner, and who is also helping with the Twisted Knitters, will be sharing her beautiful knits and some spinning (at least that's my guess. She's full of surprises.

Val is also an excellent knitter (don't let her tell you otherwise) and she has a new grandbaby grrl which she'll surely brag about (and show a picture or two).  Val may have a story or two to tell too, as she has a great imagination. Go for it Val!

I appreciate both Val and Karen for their willingness to show off their talents and take over the helm.  The comments will still go to my email address so they will not be able to answer your questions, but both are determined to get as many comments as they can (because they've been challenge by Susan).  They will both be paid in fiberous goodies from Rhinebeck.

One purple sock is finished.  The second should be done before I arrive at Rhinebeck!  Yarn for a simple stockinette sock is packed and so is my other knitting. The Buffalo scarf turned out beeoootifully...oh, it is so soft.  Pictures of it in action will come later. 

You were all so helpful with suggestions on flying, which doesn't sound as daunting as it did. Thank you, thank you. Norma said I could blog from her place, but I think I'll let her do the blogging and take a break while the guest bloggers are in charge.  You may spot me on her blog and in the 'after Rhinebeck' reports.  I promise to make a full report as soon as I can, as soon as I get back to dealing with real life.  It may take a few days of short posts to tell you everything.

If you want to join the Twisted Knitters and join in dyeing, spinning and knitting, you can still email me at TwistandKnit at gmail dot com, BUT I will not be able to add you as an author, or to the side bar, until I return after the 25th.  Thank you for your patience. Karen has added a tutorial on crock pot dyeing and there are some good links for dyeing info on the sidebar, thanks to Marcia. 

See you on the 26th of October  and to the rest of you who will be at Rhinebeck....see you soon!!  Yee Haw!! (Eh, Vicki?)