Wednesday, July 31, 2013

Thus complete, the Rockin' Red Dress, designed by Doris Chan, Crochet Goddess

Lakeside.
Loyal Followers know my hero worship of the crochet goddess, Doris Chan.  Here she served up a dress design in crochet magazine, Interweave of Fall 2012 that would put hairs on just about anybody's chest.  I mentioned it in a post earlier this summer, while I toiled away at the beginning stages of my Rockin' Red Dress, otherwise known as the Lt. Uhura Dress.  Some combination of delight, pride, relief and excitement for the next project is filling my heart as I look at a few of the photos we compiled during our recent trip to Ontario.   Here is a sampling of the growing organism that is a lovingly crafted handworked piece, as it travels far and wide.  The journey begins in old Oak Park, but my life here at home is just complicated enough that I didn't get far before shelving the work and waiting for quiet resort time. 

two months of on and off work, figuring out the quiver stitch.
First stop home on the coast.  We muddled through the early, and most complicated stages right here in Florence, Oregon.  There were quite a few points in which the ever resource-laden website, Ravelry, came in handy.  Those of you who are handworkers, if you haven't taken advantage of the gift that is Ravelry, check it out, ASAP.  This is such a terrifically designed site and a functional joy to use.  It's on Ravelry that I can find other like-minded aficionados who have toiled on the same design.
Finally. A perfect swatch. 

Mom & Dad's old Patio Chaiz Lounge.

Poolside, I crafted the base of the yoke/neckline.  One tiny misstep here, and we have a crooked dress down the line.  Not loyal to the beauty that is expected in this work.
The beginnings of collar/yoke.  Needs to be absolutely perfect.
By the time we join the yoke at the back I realize that I actually have the workings of a dress.  Up until this moment, I was sort of wondering.  But alas!  I've got it!!!! Ready to rock and roll, although the troubled times are not over.
Yoke Complete.  I'm exhausted.  What a puzzle.
Forming shoulders, sleeves, all with the seamless magic that is a Doris Chan design is an art form of rare beauty.  Traditional yarn-wear often involves pieces, as in fabric-formed garments, that must finally be assembled by stitchwork or sewing.  Not this, oh, no.  Last crochet stitch--dress complete!
Work.
Well.  It wouldn't be called the Unencumbered Woman if it didn't at least look effortless.  And of course, there are many many days when it feels just that.  Effortless.  Living a life with integrity, appreciating the beauty that is available to us, building something, creating something beautiful, and expressing love and appreciation and support for those people that surround us.

On to the torso, there's a matter of calculation and size.

And then we're back in the throes of midwestern living and Ironman training.  This quiet afternoon spot was one that I stole while on a visit/training ride in beautiful Madison, WI.  I walked around a neighborhood and found a quiet bench behind some fabulous homes.  Lake Monona is incredibly calming as a spot to sit and crochet.  I snuggled up past the two kids who were hawking lemonade and performed my typical no thanks nod as they pushed their wares upon me.  I know it's not always true, but today it was: "why is it the kids with the really huge brand new rehabbed house and the super expensive cars in the driveway with the killer view the ones making money off folks and lemonade?"  But that was the extent of my snark for that moment.  I figure, this is just the beginning for this neighborhood, and I'll be able to say that I saw it when....right before everybody started building really big, perfect houses crowded onto the narrow water-side lots.
Roman Candle Pizza, Madison, WI

Toronto, Ontario

Is it just obnoxious to say that I went from Madison to Toronto in less than a week? Perhaps, but that's how it goes, sometimes, and I'm thrilled for it. By the time I was climbing a giant web and hauling my crochet to the top, I was quite sure that I was practically done with the thing.  Counting necessary, and a bit of sizing work, but for the most part, I was in the homestretch.
The Well, neighborhood
And on to the country cabin in Ontario.  I do believe we stumbled upon the most beautiful place on earth.  I know that British Columbia brags about it on license plates, but that sort of over-hype just isn't necessary here.  Muskoka, Ontario, we all fell in love with you.  And here's a completed dress to prove it!
Lake-water blocking.

A morning on Pine Lake, such as this, just about does it.  Garment is dry, ready for a swim, and as loyal follower can see, I've accumulated some particularly nice CAN bling.  Yes!

Quiver aflutter.

And about the Birkenstocks.  Love my Birkenstocks, and I couldn't go anywhere in Ontario without seeing oodles of folks walking around in Birkenstocks!  Yes!!! I fit right in!!!
Yup. That's a dog.  Spent a delightful week with the two most amazing border collies that one might imagine.  Running with these two put me to shame, and reminded me why we have not right now the time or the inclination to go this route. What a lot of work, and what a lot of running these pups need to do!  Beautiful, smart, athletic.  A dream companion, of course.
Tyco
Photo session courtesy of Peter.  A trooper, indeed, and he hasn't lost his touch.  Sometimes we're so busy that he's not around when we're shooting for the blog.  It was truly a family vacation, screen-free, that we needed desperately.
Finished!
If, LF, you think that the hat is the only CAN bling that I picked up on this trip, you are undoubtedly wrong.  There's more, oh, so much more, but the bling that matters most is what we hold near and dear to our heart, and when you start with a vision in the dark of winter and a skein of Soy Silk yarn, the sky's the limit baby. The sky's the limit.

Happy! Proud!
http://dorischancrochet.com

Tuesday, July 30, 2013

One Glorious Day in Toronto

This Canada-phile has no shame.  Some places are just that good.  No words express the happiness I felt during my brief stay in one of this continent's more forward thinking cities.  Didn't hurt that we were  graced with fantastic weather and wonderful life-long friends.  Here's a sampling of my day:

G'Morning Crochet
Neighborhood Park
There I go, again.


A stroll to the vintage, yarn, and empanada shops deliver this feast for the eyes.

The Art Car is alive and well!

Have plant, will travel.

And...Canadian spun yarn! Seaweed Silk!!!!!

At our beautiful store, friendly, helpful staff. "I love Toronto!"

Lettuce Knit. ..yarnbombed and daddy stroller in sight.

could it be more perfectly staged?  No!

And the moment we wait for.  A dress to wear in the states on the first weekend in July!

And there's more!!!! '70s pantsuit!  I'm blissed out!

Monday, July 29, 2013

Racine Half-Ironman, Ironman 70.3 race report.

 Note to self. Sometimes the triathlon with the fewest photos is the most successful.  This is it, friends, nothing but a parting shot as I drove out of town after the race on Sunday, July 21st.  The legendarily hot race wasn't as awfully hot as usual, but we were served up a treacherous swim.  The chop on Lake Michigan was as powerful as I have ever experienced, in training or racing.  I stood around for hours with my friends, a few who wondered if they'd bother with the swim at all. 


When it came time to start, at about 7:15, I took a deep breath and reminded myself that if I slowed down and took the swim calmly, I'd have plenty of energy to get me through the remainder of this half ironman.  Once I was in the water, swimming out with another hundred or so women in my age group, I realized that I'd make it alright.  As it turned out, the swim was less crowded and less aggressive than some of the other races I've done.  We were all focused on not swallowing too much water, and holding some sort of a line.  The U-shaped course allowed that we had to swim directly into the waves for quite a while, but I felt assured that there would be a lessening once past the break, which proved true.  Once we were swimming south further away from the shore, the waves were large, but I just rolled with them and forgot about exerting any great effort.  
Coming out of the water, I ran through the painfully long transition area, aware that my fancy schmancy Garmin 910
NOT MY ARM--(stock web image).
had been bumped improperly, so I'd have another failure to record my race and all my whangdoodle stats that should help me one day.  Oh well!  I sighed, played around with the buttons enough to make my transition a little bit longer than it should be, found my bicycle and got myself ready for a flat, fast bike course.  The ride, as anticipated, was flat and fast, although there were two factors that I didn't calculate.  One, there are many ninety degree turns on this course, with kind volunteers steering us through the maze.  What problem, you wonder? It can take the competitor out of their zone, and repeated twenty or so times during a three hour race, it's a little draining.  This, I survived, but for folks who rode the course, when I said, later on in the afternoon, "bang bang." "bang, bang,", they all knew what I meant.  Cracks on road.  These periodic breaks in the pavement are grueling when riding fast and flat and they are literally every 5 meters or so.  Needless to say, after 56 miles, I was happy to get off the bike and use the port-o-let.
My swim, nothing too impressive save for the fact that I finished, was upped by my ride.  I always get a wave of happy feeling if I come back to the transition area and not too many of my cohorts bikes are racked yet.  Today?  I may have been delusional, but they were all out there (a lot of them), still on the bike.
Now on to the run.  As cool as the weather felt, compared to other years at Racine, it was nearing midday and I knew that I had some heat in store.  The temps were somewhere in the low eighties and this is always a challenge four hours into a tough event.  I took some fluids, grabbed my flower hat, and headed out onto the 13.1 mile course.
Not a race day. Clean and tidy front yard.
Now about the run situation.  No matter how I try, and the numbers, technically, don't always bear this fact out, but I say that the race is mine to lose on the run.  I'm a tough enough cyclist, and a just good enough runner, that by the time I get off the bike, with empty racks all around me, that for the remainder of the day I'm watching women come huffing up behind me, passing like they're trying out for the varsity cut of their High School Cross Country team.  So today I had a plan.  Just run.  I may not be in rip-roaring shape this summer, but I've put some miles in, I'm in a reasonably older age group, and hell, I can run for a few hours and not explode.  My fancy schmancy Garmin, by this time, was doing it's job so I knew that my heart wasn't exploding (kept the HR under 150--which is high but hell, it was hot), and I was holding a sub-10:00 pace, which, when it's closer to 9:00 seems like a good thing, when it's over 10:00 I totally resent all of the effortless runners around me, and when it's at about 9:30, I'm thinking, hell, I'm not too shabby!!!!

So I didn't really walk.  OK, maybe through a few aid stations, but not as much as I might.  I held my jog, took a bit of fluid and nutrition, but not too much considering the length of the journey, and enjoyed the company of so many triathletes out there.  When I finished I knew I was solid, but wasn't until later that I learned that my slow swim, steady bike (19.76mph), and solid run (9.36) garnered me an 11th in my age group, which, in a race of this size is top ten percent.  Fabulous result for me.  

So, yay!  And too bad I couldn't grab any of the fantastic photos that I might have gotten if I had been a back seat racer or even spectator this year.  Last year I spectated and adored some of the photos I grabbed.   This year??  A great time with friends, a celebration at the end, and soreness for a few days afterwards.

So many fellow athletes out there, new friends and old.  Jilly, Beth, Charlene, Jack, Jason, Michael, John, Alice, Paul, and more.  Spend enough time in a place and it'll become home.  Spend enough time in a place and you'll grow family.  Spend enough time in a place and you'll fall in love with it.  Our midcentury midwestern old towns?  I love you. 
Shuttered furniture store.  Sold all the fancy stuff back in the day, says an acquaintance.



Monday, July 15, 2013

"Will you ever finish that thing?" My reply? "Who cares? Now I have something to keep me alive!!!!"

It's the Mother-Daughter ensemble crochet kit.  Finished during an ever lovely summer break.  All of my obsessions sufficiently fed, feeling only slightly sated.  Anticipating years to come, a life before me, if I am at all fortunate enough, to yarn-work, exercise, puzzle, and the like.  On our final days at the home away from home, I had an opportunity to spruce the house up, go to the beach with two of my favorite gals, and hunker down for some coming delightful work.  Just polished off Ashby's dress and we're flying in style.  Sun, pink, hobbies, perfection.







And it's time for a break from the sun and hustling around town running errands, tidying the house, and getting ready to shut it down for a while.  We are looking for some around the house objects, and it's definitely time for a visit to Skandia Thrift Store in Sister Bay.  It's where we've literally brought truckloads of the refuse that other folks have left at our house, and thank goodness, it was a years-long epic cleaning saga that won't even make the pages of the Unencumbered Woman.  You never know what's gonna catch your eye in a thrift store, and today was no exception.  I had a cd or two in hand, and Ashby was walking around with some sort of random tchotchke when I spied a few yarn-craft kits from way back in the day.
*something special* NEEDLEPOINT.
First, I laid my eyes on a glorious '70s era picture scenery with printed canvas and a full compliment of matching yarn--ding! ding! ding!  Hours and hours and hours of my younger years were spent crafting these needlepoint and embroidery kits.  Fully intact, I couldn't resist.  I must have at least a hundred hours to spare, right?  The kitschy country scene is perfect-o, and I can work it in the country, at home, at swim meets, perhaps even while on an exercise machine--who knows?  I'm feeling an urge to sink even further into the bliss of solitude, quiet craftdom, and pondering of the glorious summer sky, something that every soul deserves and few attain.


barnyard americana
Note the work available to me!  A large piece, meticulously preserved in somebody's craft room.  All colors intact and waiting to be categorized. Puzzling through the pattern is half the fun.  The finished product?  Again, after a lifetime of work, it could become anything.  Simple wall hanging? Perhaps. Wearable yarn-art? Even more likely.  I'm thrilled with the possibility.


needlepoint on canvas.  It's a meditation, plain and simple. 




But then there's more.  Just moments after I re-ignite the long-dead fire in my chest that is the desire to do needlepoint, my eyes fall upon a only half-finished vintage era bench cover that someone must have been crafting decades and decades ago.  I insist that the piece is vintage because it is of an era when women needlepointed seat-cushions for chairs (my Grandma, born in 1899). I also insist that the materials for this piece are beyond lovely.  The vintage 100% wool yarn, nicely packaged and preserved, the fine work, already complete on the piece, and the soft canvas, yellowed with time.  I'm in heaven.  I have long considered one of my callings to finish old afghans that folks had never finished, with the name "Afghans from the Attic".  So why not "Seat cushions from last century?"  It's all available, with a little rooting around at garage, thrift, and estate sales.  
tapestry wool. Perfection.
It's a mammoth undertaking, in size and in simplicity.  Nonetheless I'm captivated by it's simple beauty and the memory of my own Grandma and other women who taught me needle arts when I was a child.  Already the jokes are flying in my home. "Will you ever finish that thing?"  My reply? "Who cares? Now I have something to keep me alive!!!!"
And finally, a trip to Ellison Bay would not be complete without a puzzle.  Need to get back up north to start and eventually finish this ginormous piece.  2000 pieces, and a Ravensburger, no less!  This German company builds puzzles that are satisfying to the touch, to the eye, and are simple delightful to work with.  A few years back I was completely stumped by a 1000 piece Ravensburger, so who knows how long (the rest of my life) this might take.  I like undertaking an eternal project.


sunrise, cup of coffee, and this?  I'm done.

Thursday, July 11, 2013

The World's Largest Granny Square...Installment #5

Yes, loyal follower, the Granny Square that fell to earth, the Granny Square that ate Ellison Bay, is here and coming to theaters near you.  Bigger, growing-er, and surprisingly consistent.   Same  cheap Red Heart Yarn, same glorious locale (beach & cottage), same obsessive mentality and curiosity over the meaning of world record status.  And I must add, that for once, the thing does seem to be gaining proportions of unique size and status.
horizontal living--the merging of perfection: rest plus craft.

Lotta yarn for sandy beach.

Now that, friend, is a granny square--not to be confused with Granny Gear.
Let's just be happy that the outer chainring isn't called chick-me and the middle isn't called drafting and loving it.

People don't change, they just get more of what they already were.

Some of you might wonder why I continue this seemingly futile pursuit. Was in not uttered just this morning, by my loving spouse, that actually if there is a woman who has made a blanket that would cover a football field, why would I insist on my Granny Square?  Well, to those of us enamored with the pure aesthetic and kitschy charm of this eloquent, mathematical crochet form, it's a no-brainer.  

And so to all those folks out there dedicated to the beauty of the Granny Square, I say, Yes!!!!! Let's do this!!!

Woodstock to Ellison Bay in Three Days, Three Hundred Miles

 Here it is! Three days of riding fun in the early days of summer!  We all started in Woodstock Illinois, which is about an hour outside of the sprawling metropolis.  We hit some rain on Saturday morning, and felt the solid northeast wind as soon as we took off.

But the temps were comfortable, we had good navigable routes, and were destined for a nice bundle of mileage-rich days with rolling hills and no traffic.  A perfect Summer weekend.  Jack calls the ride the Yooper Challenge, since the ride terminates after four days of riding to his cabin in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, but I planned to break off after two days of riding.  My own ride would end in Ellison Bay, on the tip of the Door County Peninsula in Wisconsin.  One thing about documenting these rides, is that it's usually been tough going to ride and stop for photographs.  With a plan of a hundred miles each day, we best not be stopping too often.  That's why this year, with the celebrated bike sag kit that Jilly gifted me this year, I was able to point and shoot while riding!
Thank you Jilly! You must be a genius or something!
The sack hangs nicely off my top tube and I can fit wallet, phone, camera, map,  all in a location easier to reach than rear pockets or panniers. Our first day was fun-filled, but per the tortuous wind and some rain and even some detours thanks to the battling navigation skills of JR, KN and the Wiz himself, I'm not proud of any day one photos.
Let me get this straight...so you run for 4 hours at a time...for training? -JC
We met Ken for lunch in Palmyra, WI and that was a success, onward into the wind we forged, only to land in Mayville at an unusually late hour.  Let's just say that we skipped cocktail hour and headed into town for our ritual argument over the difference between broasted, broiled and, of course fried.
 Look up there!  It's broasted, no it's roasted, no it's broiled!  Oh hell, just look at the house behind you, the midcentury detail will take you back to whatever sort of food preparation is most evocative to you! 

Sunday Morning delivered terrific weather, on the face of it, but we were served, again, a relentless wind that fluctuated between 10 and 20 mph.  A potential risk of the one way journey is such, riding into the merciless wind with no respite of a tailwind. But alas, how can I complain when my strong friends insisted on my draft for hours at a time?  

Practically painless.
Upon finishing a ride such as this, it's often difficult to encapsulate the experience.  But my obsession with nostalgia and longing is what emerges when I look at my photo selection.  If only I could give form to the built structures out there in the open or tucked into woodsy and fielded areas.  Mobile homes, in their own simple beauty carrying that very American dream and the barns, rural industry and homes in all states of occupancy, love, and forlorn.
Against the always amazing and shifting sky, it is all so breathtaking and life giving.  This outbuilding and mobile home was very near a somewhat major town-intersection.  The guys were around the corner getting a shot of a great abandoned mill building, but something about it looked to stagey to capture.  So I hopped around, knowing that something my style was near by. It was a few minutes later that we stopped to check the map(s) and chuckled that there was some sort of difficulty following the masterful navigation of our absentee leader.  What's a few extra miles when it gives us a tailwind for a few minutes?
It's not easy to get a photo of JC when his mouth is closed, but who can argue with the espousal of wisdom?
And it's lunchtime.  See all that sunlight, no shade?  We had plenty of this.  Those that remembered the sunscreen and lip balm did better than me.  My lips were a wreck for days after the trip.
Great article about this deli's attempt to combat the local presence of Walmart.
Time to get back on the road.  Not exactly ripping speed, and we can certainly blame it on the loll-gagging of the one woman in the bunch.  I'm not afraid of saying that as I get older, I like to stop, take pictures, and grab a gatorade.
Never too far from DQ.

Don't forget to position that helmet properly, apply sunscreen, and check out the hogs in the background.

And then we're on our way to Green Bay, over half way there and bearing down on more relentless wind.

Sometimes, riding through Wisconsin, one gets the impression that life must be idyllic out here.  But then we think of all the things that folks have to put up with in the country, and remember why all those beautiful farm buildings are falling down and all those old German houses are boarded up or on the market. 


Our final ten miles or so. A relief, at last, to be shaded from the wind on a path heading into the downtown area.  It's sunny, the water is sparkling, folks are out enjoying the amazing weather.  It's near 5:00 and we're feeling great.  Anticipating a shower, rest, and dinner out with friends.  Who could be so lucky?
There they go...my friends.

Yup, that's the Green Bay we've all heard about.  Clean living at it's best.

Sunset after dinner in old town Green Bay.

You guessed it.  Green Bay Road on the Northshore of Chicago actually connected to Green Bay!  Go figure. 
An end to day two.  Everybody is in good spirits, it's off to a night of rest, ready to finish this ride.  My day three is solitary, so I'm feeling a little sad to lose the benefit of the draft and the company of friends, but I can see a good opportunity to take more pictures and stop whenever I want.  Finally liberated from the ruthless drive of the guys, I'm gonna keep my own schedule, today.


Nicolet Road out of Green Bay

Morning. Out of Green Bay, heading north and east.

This old schoolhouse looked so sweet in the morning light.

How many of these amazing German farmhouses do I see?  Heartbreaking.

I was sort of anxious about getting to Sturgeon Bay, since I've ridden from Sturgeon Bay to Ellison Bay many times and know the roads, which would feel more typical.  I stopped in Sturgeon Bay for lunch and thoroughly enjoyed the charm of the touristy feel of Sturgeon Bay.
After lunch I still had a hefty dose of headwinded riding, but I grabbed the camera and took as many photos as I wanted heading north to our house.
I never tire of the scenery as I ride across the peninsula.  It's sad, it's happy, it's artsy, it's authentic, it's fake, it evokes my own memories, it's natural, it's safe, it's Wisconsin, it's "the Cape Cod of the Midwest", it's all that and more.  Today, with brilliant sky and a holiday weekend in my future, it was simply perfect.  I love it up here.  Always a dose of quiet and an opportunity to remove myself from stress, technology, and the grime and chaos of Chicagoland.
The arts and the tourists will save so many outbuildings in this little corner of the world. 

Town Hall Bakery.  Love. Forever. So many memories.

Pain-free riding at it's best.  Clear, clean roads and amazing sky.  

The hillside. Our first glimpse of the water at Ellison Bay.  Always a welcome sight.

Afternoon shadows.  Long. Slow. Day.
As I rode into Ellison Bay on Highway 42, I got a little weepy.  After all, I've wanted to ride up to this house since I first visited in 1998!  I could never really figure out how to make it happen without having it take a big chunk out of my vacation time and then there is the obvious difficulty of the children.  Most of my time here I have been the main Mom.  But here I am!!!! Granny and Ashby drove up on Monday as my welcoming committee.  Couldn't be better.  Big hugs and celebration, then a great supper and movie night.  Welcome home!!!
Which one of these women is unencumbered/retired?