Friday, September 25, 2015

HARLEQUIN AFGHAN…or….relationship advice.

"Come on, here's the camera, take a few shots before you leave!"
Blocked & positioned on matching rattan furniture.

And it's off the hook, assembled, complete. The Harlequin Afghan, finished.  I blogged about this piece just days ago, and before that, a few other times.

What to say, now?  Perhaps an homage to the sort of playing with cameras that we enjoy…or at least I enjoy, with the indulgence of my family members.  Peter is responsible for this collection of KSN photos in the back yard, modeling the afghan as wrap/cape.



blocked, ready for use.
 Every once in a while I start to wonder if we ham it up for the camera a little too much. After all, some of us are not getting any younger.  Then again, it's terrific fun, especially for the self-absorbed.  I'd also dare any of you, LFs, to do the same.  Why not?  In this instance, I'm rustling up the attention of my long-suffering spouse.  One of the remedies to long term relationship blues is to simply ask for attention.  It's so easy for us to focus lots of energy on self, on kids, pets, work, house, and forget about each other.  So, on a Friday morning when I ask my spouse to take a few extra minutes to shoot these photos, I'm asking for attention, interaction, a laugh or too, and, thanks to the technology, a memory.
"This is going to look fabulous. I can wear it wherever I wish!"
 Somebody warned, in an earlier post, that this afghan is too gorgeous to not convert to a wearable item.  Now that it's finished, I sort of agree.  It's main purpose will be to adorn my mid-century rattan couch, but whenever the fancy hits, I think I'll break out the "Harlequin Cape". why not?  One hundred percent worsted wool, it's soft, not too scratchy, and warm.  I'm fond of the colors. Chartreuse, coral, black, grey, white. Great midcentury colors, still classic today.  I'm wild about the juxtaposition of classic vintage detail with modernity.  In this case, the whole set-up looks hopelessly modern.  The Harlequin Afghan time traveled to today and got stuck in a selfie-shoot and an outdoor affair.
"Go ahead. Just try to tell me what I can and can not wear!"
And so we have it.  I can't help but try to synch the piece up with a pop song, and for some reason Hall and Oates comes to mind, again and again.  If you see the cape around town, you'll know who it is.  You'll also know what it is.  And if you see me running/riding/sitting with this cape wrapped around my shoulders, you might even hum a few lines from a Hall & Oates song:
"It's up to me, what will be…"


"She's gone." 

"What went wrong?"



"Face ain't looking any younger, now I can see, love taking her toll on me…"
And to quote the photographer: "I like seeing you argue with the camera!" There is usually a fair amount of arguing, but not without it's fun. Next installment of yarn madness, nobody knows.  But there is a small chance that it will be painstaking, unique, and possess bit of whimsy. 


Saturday, September 19, 2015

In which an eternal project nears completion…or… I'm gonna make an afghan, "Just Because" I can.

 
Can you say 1950's?
 I'm obsessed with a lot of things, and vintage afghans are right  up there with jigsaw, crossword puzzles, and needlepoint. It takes a yarn goddess special personality to move up from the smaller items that might adorn oneself in the outside world to making giant pieces that take forever to complete.  A few of the afghans I've finished have the added status of mind-numbing details.  My current afghan project entails the crochet construction of one hundred-eleven small-ish diamonds,  sewn together, painstakingly, by hand (naturally).

This afghan is exciting, also, because it is one of the patterns in an old book that was part of my mom's collection, ca. 1956, called Modern and Traditional Afghans to Knit or Crochet.






Mom kept everything in mint condition.


So it's been a long time coming. In fact, I think I've blogged about this very project (in another lifetime?) at least twice.  Now that it's almost the moment of truth, I don't know if I love or hate it.  I certainly love the inspiration from which I embarked on the project.  Nothing like planning and purchasing and starting out on an endeavor, with nothing but possibility ahead, and about twelve skeins of wool washable yarn.








Early days, meticulous blocking.







An old blog post,  Spring 2103
Unfortunately, somewhere along the way I came to believe that I didn't have that *special stuff* required of the fifties housewife or whomever was expected to make these monster blankets. Much to my disgust, I realized that many of my diamonds were inconsistent in shape and size. 
early assemblage and blog-bliss
 Blocking (deep steam pressing) takes care of this problem to a certain extent, but, truth be told,  I can be a little devil-may-care in my approach to projects, so…Not. Perfect.….Which means, not a terrible thing in many projects (pie, for example) but for a piece that requires over a hundred perfectly symmetrical parallelograms sewn together with all seams equal, there erupts a problem.


But I persevere, and insist that this afghan will be worthy of the party that is our house-full-of-lap-throws.  The four of us often sit around, and whomever grabs afghan first is cozy and ready for whatever it is our family is up to (conversing, reading, drinking wine,  coffee, tea, dessert or sleep).  What I really love is having a project to work on (okay, many projects) so I'm never thinking or feeling that the things I do I do because I'm being *forced* to do them.

 Projects are so compelling to me simply because I don't really have a reason.  I just do.  There's no income, there's no *should* , there's no status.  All I have is the human desire to make something, and do something.  Call me entitled.  Sure.  But also, call myself Unencumbered.  This is the idea.  Amidst all of the shoulds, the worries, the what-ifs and the what I forgot to take care of,  insert the devil-may-care, "Just Because."  I'm gonna make an afghan, "Just Because" I can.  "Just Because I want to."  Or, finally, "Just Because I really really really wish that we all had to or wanted to make things for ourselves, because, of course, making things takes time, and this is what we've been doing since the beginning, and it's only in the very recent past that we've forgotten all this, and not needed to make things that take time for ourselves and for our survival and for our family."

Wednesday, September 16, 2015

I feel light, already!

Well, Iron-fans.  It's pretty much official.  I'm done.  Ironman Wisconsin came and went last weekend and not only was I not racing, I sort of did not care.  Sure, I checked the weather and results after a friend reminded me that it was Iron Sunday.  I even woke up at about three AM, relieved that I didn't have to wake up at four.  I also called a friend who somehow has managed to complete every single Ironman Wisconsin since the race began over ten years ago.  Overall, it feels pretty good. I'm interested and engaged in other things (make something every day) so there doesn't seem to be a lack of activity in my life.  I'm managing to stay in decent shape, sometimes more, sometimes less exercise, and almost always taking in healthy food.

Dropping a habit or hobby that consumes so much energy, effort and focus, allows me to try things that I always wanted to work on, but may not have had the chance.  Over the years, I've most likely invested a small fortune in Sport drinks, bars, gels, supplements, powders and the like.  You know the brands.  Probably one of the best is Hammer, but really, when you're relying on so many of your seasonal calories to come from a giant plastic vat of powder (mix with water),  it's a far cry from the sort of basic food that I gravitate towards when not pounding out hundred mile rides and three hour runs.  

So I'm not eating any of that packaged stuff, although my family and I still enjoy the occasional Kind Bar.
Kind Bars, YUM.
But at our newly opened Sugar Beet Food Co-op, we're carrying these little energy bars that bring back a lot of memories.  I think I started buying these little pouches of carob/nut/etc. bars at the infamous Berkeley Bowl in the late eighties.  Back when I first moved to California and I was living in a little apartment as an eighteen year old, I had already established a pretty hardy/cheap/mostly vegetarian eating style, but this was my first foray into living/feeding myself completely independently.  I remember how amazing the Bowl was, what with so many varieties of grown food, such  a vast selection of breads, bulk items, butcher, fish, cheese and more.  The Bowl was amazing, but it was also incredibly overwhelming.  I really had no idea what I needed/wanted and as I gazed at the intense veteran foodie/hippie folks who would pore over the produce carefully, knowledgeably, I'd sort of freak out.  I'd sometimes grab a few pippin apples, bulk pasta, nuts, peanut butter and get the heck out.  Yet I do remember that in the bulk section I found these awesome nibs, and not only was the price right, it was the sort of thing that I'd munch on for a light meal, between meal snack, on the go.  A life long relationship with food, launched.
Presentation is everything.
Fast forward to my years doing Ironman in Madison Wisconsin, and, frankly, one of my favorite things about training for this race and doing the event was the opportunity it afforded me to visit Madison, which feels in many ways so much like my hometown of Eugene, Oregon.  Madison's farm to table scene is alive and well, and there's no shortage of food co-op energy in town.  I'm a proud member of the Willie Street Co-op, and visit the store anytime I'm in town.  Used to be, that I'd stock up on a huge supply of dried goods when in town for raceday, along with items that I'd like to have along the way for my race and pre-race nutrition.  Always available, in a similar packaging at Willie Street was the little energy bar.  I'd munch on these a few days prior to race, also race morning, and stick a few in my food bags for the race. Easier to get into than the hermetically sealed cases that are cliff/power/gel whatevers.  A lot tastier, with a bit more texture, and naturally sweetened.  One of the great benefits of the little squares is that they are small.  I can eat, one, two, or more.  When I open a pre-packaged bar, I sort of have to commit to the size of the serving.  I don't know how often, in my life as an endurance athlete, I've found some sort of half eaten bar at the bottom of a sport bag or side pocket of a car or running shorts.  Then the question: do I leave this on the shelf and wait til next time to eat?  I'm frugal enough to hold onto that sandy crumpled bar, but let's face it, not appealing after a while.


So, I'm so thrilled that we've founded, built and opened a state of the art food co-op right here in Oak Park.  Seriously, I'm still pinching myself.  It's a long hard battle, and many folks aren't sure what to make of it, but every time I'm there I see people who either look as if they've been in a decent food store before, or as if they're curious about making something about the Beet work for them.  Not everyone is going to go as whole hog as me--after all, I know I'm pretty unique.  I know that not everyone wants to eat little cacao energy balls with flax seeds and pistachios crunched up inside.  But I also know that this is an amazing opportunity for those of us passionate about food climate to move forward, on so many levels.
Seize the day!
And here I am, after this morning's run!  Even I, after all these years, have had a rough patch or two in my fitness regime.  I've added a few pounds, slowed quite a bit, and often roll back over in bed rather than lace up the shoes and get out the door.  So, another of the benefits of our new grocery option is that I feel as if I've got my own shot at renewal.  Hard to not sound braggy, but I feel lighter, more energetic, more sexy, more alive.  I was already eating well, but the bump and passion of the Beet has brought my game to another level, as if the years and the surrender are peeling away.

The first time I did Vineman Ironman, in 1994, I went to a farm stand in Sonoma and bought some munchies to carry me through a few days.  I recall, fresh lime, pistachios in the shell, raw garlic and jalapeƱo pepper.  Okay, it may not be what you're going to feed your family tonight, but you get the idea.  Food that sparks the imagination, food as start point.  Food in small enough portions to not be stuck with leftovers and packages and the angst that is modern everything.  I feel light, already.  C'mon, join me.  You'll look, feel, and be amazing.