The World's Longest Sock, and the Grooviest Bag

I've said it before and I'll say it again: "I love my man!"  Best friend, loyal follower, clever, devilishly argumentative, ready for a game, and always willing to please. What more could I ask for?  For this photo shoot I don the cartoon bag, created by a company called "Jump from Paper."  Peter supposedly stopped someone on the street he found it so amusing.  One winter holiday later, and he's wondering why I haven't used it yet..."because it's too small to hold all the crap I carry around?!?"  But what sort of response is that, coming from somebody who's trying to be "unencumbered"?  So for our swim meet, I squished some yarn and hook and pattern magazine into it, ready to go.  Besides, I can cram all that other stuff into my Patagonia pockets!

The World's Longest Sock, with the World's grooviest shoulder bag.

Finishing touches, finally, on the World's Longest Socks. Worked up in a quite forgiving Superwash Merino Wool with 10% nylon, these babies are good to go! Love the variegated purple/black and it took all of four skeins to make these long suckers.  Here's to a great year of knitting! Perfect purse stuffer, for monotonous stretches of time where continuous circular knitting fits the bill.

up and over the knee, they are!

 There were times when I wondered where this tattered pattern actually came from. Running and knitting buddy, Kris, in Florence, provided it to me a few years ago, but we don't really know from which book it originated--a search that we might have to pursue in the not-so-distant future.

pattern courtesy of Kris: and what book????

Here they are, boot-worthy, Chicago-worthy, go!

 Yesterday, at a mammoth  youth swim meet, friend Steve wondered aloud, if, in fact, he reads more than one book a week, how much does Karen Steward-Nolan create in the same time?  Sometimes it seems as though I might match the man's proficiency, but heck, let's face it....Steve is a gargantuan novel-reader, and I tend to take on projects that take on the heft of their name, hence titled: The World's Greatest....!

Heel & Toe perfection, I'll say it myself!

Yup, that's about thirty inches, there!!!!

Cardigan Time! or...Don't Arm the PE Teacher!!!!

And here it is...finally...the unveiling of a yarn project that has taken over a year to complete. 

How's about a little smoochy, baby? I love babies, yarn, pink, and suburbia!!!!!!

  The Cardigan Style No. 4335-71.  It was a simple man's design from my mom's old collection:

"And what's more sporty than hair gel, nordic patterns and a great dye job?" 

 Couple it with some of the high-kitsch Knit-O-Graf patterns that I've gathered from Mom's old knitting basket and I have finally arrived. Viewer be warned, in these politically charged times, there is a gun in the pocket of the cardigan.  I know that it's really not at all funny, but hell, I put the gun in there over a year ago, because I was so fascinated with the 1950's era design of cute little animals for girls winter wear, and, of course, guns and the like for little boys.  LF, you'll have to insert your own polemics,  I just don't know what to think anymore, really.

Boy: gun, plaid, dog. Girl: kitten, chick, plaid.

Here I am a year ago when I put the gun on a helmet-cover.

And back to yarn detail. On the shoulder we have: chicks, on the hip: kitten, left front: plaid and of course, right pocket: gun.  The work involved in this endeavor has been tedious, at the minimum, but now I can reap the rewards and enjoy a snuggly, non-itchy cardigan for years and years to come (alpaca, wool, silk).  plaid was a lot of fun, because it requires knitting stripes, then meticulously stitching the vertical stripes into a line of purl.  Not an unwieldy job, just long.  Finally finished, and probably never again.

Gun poking out of pocket, the thing curves in a fashion so it would never shoot straight.

 When I turned the pattern on it's side to put the gun in a pocket instead of hat, I made a miscalculation on the gauge of the thing.  For this reason, the gun sort of curves in an unlikely shape. The surreal shape is delightful, sort of a mocking of the idea that the sorts of people who become teachers might also be the sort of people who become gun-carrying-officers of order.

Now where'd I put my whistle!?!?

That said, anybody who has spent a significant amount of time on the grounds of a school might agree that it's the Physical Education Teacher that is most likely to offer to carry a gun.

Are you talkin' to me??

 But then, the overall theme of the cardigan is what it should be.  Sweet little mother knits sweet little sweater to wear while working at sweet little school. What could be wrong with such a thing?

Meow!

Granny Shawl-ette!

Last summer, I embarked on a "Florence, only" yarn project--an improvised Granny Square Shawl-ette. Now that it's almost time to go home, I just put the finishing touches on the little ditty.  I bought the yarn right here at the cutie-pie LYS,  Happy Kamper, The Yarn Barn.  Made of Jaeger, Roma 63%  viscose yarn and 15% angora, it's a little less precious than some of the fibers I work with, and frankly, maybe a more honest reflection of my life here in Oregon, which, at times, seems Sprouse Reitz all the way. But Sprouse Reitz is really just a memory.  Today it's all about Fred Meyer, of course.



And a little photo session out front of the abode.  Check out the home across the way. This vintage Mobile Home is top-notch, house of many good friends over the years. I was sitting and the sunlight was so incredibly brilliant that the vertical stripes were stupendous at about three PM.

And what if it had a little hood?

I might as well indulge myself, or ask you, LF, to indulge me, since coming back to this place is a reminder of my yesterdays, every time.  In this case, I must insist that years and years and years were spent, on weekends away from home and summers and more, in these trailers, knitting, yarn hooking, embroidering, needlepointing and the like. It was on the long stretches in between the regular kid stuff that I immersed my young self in the artfulness of craft, or needle arts, or whatever we want to call it.  There were days that I would pedal off to Mary Alice's trailer, either stuck with a problem or proud of a product.  I see my handiwork displayed throughout my mother's home.  Wow. And here I am, still.  And what's the problem? Nothing.  The forever-ness of our early loves is just that...forever.  So here I am, with smartphone and schmancy camera in hand, but toiling at the hobbies that have always brought me to a simpler, basic state of mind...unencumbered, even!

 

It really doesn't get any better than this.





Puzzle, Run, Coffee.

early-seventies tape recorder...cleaning the closets.

Bye Bye, 2012.  The blender that is my mind has hardly slowed it's relentless grinding, even now that I've been in a somewhat restful state for at least a week. And when does the insanity stop?  I guess, LF, I owe you a summation of sorts, after all, there was the long build-up to Dad's departing, and the saying goodbye, and the grieving, so what now, end of year reflecting? Amidst the sadness of losing somebody who was dear for eighty eight years, there's so much tragedy that assaults our mind every day that our own authentic pain lies somewhere, lost between the personal and the news transmissions that reach us instantaneously and hit us like tremendous waves.  The urgency of technology and communication is profound and deadening to the senses.  In cleaning out some more objectia from parents' house, brother and I stumbled upon our tape recorder that had survived at least twelve years of enjoyment back in the 1970's and '80s.  I can glance across the room, almost any hour of the day today and see some member of my family glued to a silent device: laptop, ipod, smartphone, iphone. We resist only so much, and then, bam! it's in every seam and crevice of our daily life. 

Can we even remember this?  Imagine.

 One of the things that I love about these rare moments of retreat for family is the opportunity to plod about as if time hasn't raced ahead.  A jigsaw puzzle, a cup of coffee, a cloudy day on the coast.  Are there enough days left for all the puzzling I'd like to do?  If only, but a girl can dream.  I get swept into the puzzling of it, talking through my problems in my own head, while methodically assembling the object. 


Oh, indulgences, pastimes, sitting with oneself, pondering it all.

  And as per the cleaning that comes with loss and years' end.  We also took a stab at Dad's shotglass collection, which may have numbered in the area of three hundred?  I sat with Mom and took them all off the shelves, pushed aside the ones that bore no great significance to us, and then replaced the forty or so that she or I thinks worth keeping, at least for now.  Antiques, colleges, travel memorabilia.  Feeling fresh and lively to look at.  Lighter for the new year, but never finished. Never finished saying goodbye and looking through the memories. It's what we have, after all.

Dad's shot-glass collection, pared down to under 40. 

Hawaii, rooster, Oregon Coast





My new heroes. Hello New Year with the Florence 5K!

And then New Year's Day came.  Sunny, clear, cool, brilliantly clean air.  Friends gathered on Bay Street, much as we had two years ago.  This year I managed to recruit two newbies.  Ashby, for sure, the youngest participant.  She attacked the event with vigor and a great big smile.  Peter thoroughly enjoyed his morning on the river front.  And so it goes, the cycle, warm hearts, exercise, energy and hope for a new year! Ashby said to me, upon finishing, "Mom, can I run with you again, maybe tomorrow?" Dad's not here anymore.  Mom's still here, healthy and dosing us with snappy retorts here and there.  We're here, making the very best of what we can.  Puzzle, Run, Coffee. Puzzle, Run, Coffee. Puzzle, Run, Coffee.