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. 

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."

Unencumbered Woman breathes life into 2015

  Alas, the weight of it all brings the most active of us down to our knees.  Although I don't try to wash this blog with upbeat truisms, I do try to utilize my own adventurous spirit in designing tales about working at the process of making life a bit lighter in it's experience (ok, blah blah blah).  So I  try to take wacky times, sometimes awesome times, and inspired creations, and document as time blasts forward.

So what happens when the Unencumbered Woman literally takes to bed and plays sick for a month?  Although I've been tempted, blogging about my bedroom is almost (OK, not really) but almost off limits.  How many photos of myself doing crosswords in my PJ's can the world sustain, let alone this quiet little blog of liberation and freedom.  So, I put the brainstorms on the back burner and stuck to some of the domestic arts for which I have achieved little to modest amounts of notoriety for.  

Getting back in the saddle must require some application of the basic principles of the site, and so, I offer this, a study in the adventures and dreams that we find in our own comfortable home, while nursing illness, fear of cold and ice, and the inertia and ineptitude that only the greyest of Chicagoland winters can deliver.

James Garner in Rockford Files

So let us begin at the very beginning.  The very beginning, oh children of the 1970's, is Jim Rockford  (James Garner 1928-2014).  I spent so many weekends as a child stuck in a mobile home in the misty rainforest of the Oregon Coast.  We had one or two channels at our weekend getaway, and I always had some nifty craft or jigsaw puzzle to pore over.  Rockford was one of the higher quality standards that you could find on TV ca. 1980.

Rockford's home/office

And what's an Unencumbered care for?  It's just amazing, to think how far we've come in the intervening years.  Here's the lead character, always playing fair, never carrying a gun, tolerating pushy clients, living in a quiet trailer, parked right on the shore of the Pacific in Southern CA.  Look at how ratty the trailer is!  This, of course, was a symbol of his liberation.  The guy had served time, and now was in companionship, mainly, with his father, eats hotdogs at a stand by the water, and quietly pursues a life as a self-employed PI, "two hundred a day, plus expenses."

 For those of us who dare, or try to experiment with alternate life paths, trying to balance, family, health, values, interests, sleep and circumstances, Rockford's story is all too compelling.  To quote Sarah Silverman, "How do you even make money??"(on In Bed with Joan, episode 1).  The more I think about this question, the more often the response is, "live cheap."  What's cheaper than Rockford's setup? I'm also obsessed with all of the quickly LA ladies he works along side and with as clients.

defense lawyer friend, Beth, played by Gretchen Corbett

 It's easy to find sexism in this dated show, but looking at the "lady lawyer" "lady hippy" "rich lady murderess/theif" the range of characters that we were exposed to seems deep in a fashion that is often missing in TV programming today.  One gal has the full on crochet poncho and fringe boots.
And so, in a roundabout fashion I tell a tale of January 2015 as sitting watching marathons of Netflix programming while crafting and plotting creations (and a hefty dose of NYT Crossword Puzzle).  And, fellow athletes, I've discovered, happily, that, as long as you have an obsessive activity, exercise is NOT absolutely necessary to fulfill obsessive desires.  Bonus?  Skip the workout, and you get more crafting done!!!!!

Nichelle Nichols as Lt. Uhura

Today we discuss the beloved Uhura Dress, #2.  Hot off the hook and I'm thrilled with the results.  It's one of the more difficult pieces I've worked, following the pattern designed by Crochet Goddess Doris Chan, but as this is the second time I attempted the piece, it was a little more free-flowing.  I skimped on the yarn, so ended up with a product a lot closer to the length of Nichelle Nichol's original Star Trek dress.

100% Bamboo Yarn, Southwest Trading Co.

So, in the name of indoor activities and adventures to be had while nursing illness and down-times. We celebrate with a photo shoot in teen-bedroom.  Willing teen photographer is a bonus, so, here we go!

These are the eyes of an adoring mother. No less than thirty minutes before a Driving Lesson(!)

See, kids!!! This is fun!!!! We have fun, even in January, we make things and do things!

We're sort of lucky that the teen allowed us into her room for the photo shoot, and it's not altogether obvious that we were soon rushed out.  But that's life with a teen.  You take whatever little bit you get, whenever you can.  It's nothing like those younger years when they hang on your every word and action.  But this, friend, is the cycle of life and I'm preparing myself for the inevitable.  In this much, I'm sure that spending more time around the home is a good thing.  With college and beyond around the corner, if there was ever a time I wanted to see my kids at breakfast and dinner it is now.

If you must know, this quiver stitch is a magnificent creation requiring great concentration.

Proud Crochet Goddess

Make Something Every Day.

That's my current motto.  No matter how crummy things feel, start or finish some project that unites sense of self with reality.  Some project that captures an energy whatever that energy is.  In my case, I'm in the house, again, in what's become a perfectly rational refuge.  The season is brilliant and sunny, the news is raining down on us, and here I am, waffling between angst and whimsy.

Josey Baker goodness.

In answer to angst, I'm baking bread.  Working my way through Josey Baker's ridiculously straightforward bread making book.  I wanted to hate him, being all young and friendly-n-all, but he's absolutely spot-on with instructions, great photos, great bread.  I'm a convert.







And then on to this.  I have been avoiding completion of the so-called, "Thickly Invented Cool Season Skirt" for a few reasons.  First, I started it last Spring when I was thinking about doing more on-demand crochet and wanted a super fast work-up skirt to make for other folks.  Since then, I've been doing too much of my own thing and not really worrying about who might want to buy my crochet…after all, I need to dress myself, first!  Second, it's been warm for, well, forever, and there's no need to think about winter when it's not here (no-brainer--this is why we crochet rather than knit….More Fun!).  Third, my mind has been occupied by these massive projects that took over hooking time (afghan? please).

2014-11-07 10.01.48 from karen steward-nolan on Vimeo.

But earlier this week, we found a nip in the air and I started eyeing the full-length down coats at Macy's…hmmm, that could be fun (and expensive)….and then I remembered, just put a chunky wool number on my behind and stick to the cast-off-indestructible Patagonia waist-coat that will last,

practically, forever.  And so I resumed work on this Chartreuse, Coral, Grey skirt that, upon finishing, will do me good.

And not a minute too early for either cool weather, or a roll around the kitchen on my old roller-skates, inspired by friend and neighbor, Jenny, who wants to check out the local Roller Rink.  OK, then, this gal is going to work on some of her old moves….

It would probably not surprise many dear readers that The Unencumbered Woman was quite the roller gal in her day (late eighties).  In fact, when in the San Francisco area, for quite some time, the best thing that somebody could do on a Sunday Morning in Golden Gate Park was grab some quad skates, loosen the trucks waaaay up, and dance with the whole crowd, in a cordoned off, with giant stereos playing, smiles, dancing, fun in the sun.  What memories.  In fact, this is a little what the scene looks like today, still fun after all these years!

And so we soldier on.  Happy to be inspired by the act of creation, happy to be home, happy to be here with family and friends.  Happy to remember exciting times in other places, and happy to cherish food, beauty, and the good sense to continue thinking, breathing, building, for as long and as hard as we can, because sometimes, we can't…and there are a lot of others, who can't, and whole couldn't.  Forget those who wouldn't, since we can't do much about that.  I love this bread.  And I love this skirt.  I love making something, every day.

The Yarn of the Afghan…or…Blog and Brag!

Addie's Afghan

Only days ago I blogged about the delightful summer cover-up that I finally finished after a season of difficult fine work.  And now, with a  hint of cool temps and precipitation in the air, I put the last rows and edging on Addie's afghan, which I started at least three years ago.










I was so excited to take on this project, initially, as I'm passionate about these vintage patterns, found in my own mother's collection and elsewhere.  That said, my enthusiasm waned in the intervening months.  So, a bit of background on these Afghans, blankets, and throws.

Vintage pattern books, sit upon the afghan
adorning my creative space.

A while back I finished an afghan that my mother had worked on since the fifties, then abandoned, many years ago.  It sits, happily, in our living room now.

Mom's Butterfly Afghan

And on my chartreuse and grey front porch/workspace, sits the afghan that one of Donna's Aunties began in CA, many years ago.

basic flower motif

All vintage, all amazingly beautiful and, most importantly, comfortable.  And lest we forget, the most difficult pattern I've ever worked (in terms of a sixteen row repeat, not in design of the essential shape), was another vintage pattern that twisted my brain into little knots, pattern borrowed from one of Mom's old books, only described as Pattern #12910.  This one, as I was working, Peter claimed that he thought it was hideously ugly.  That said, every time we sit down in the living room he whips that thing onto his lap about as fast as a hot chocolate chip cookie.  I say, "Not so fast, friend, remember what you said about my afghan!"

"What, no blanket? I'll take a cat."

Comfy, cozy, Pattern #12910.

And what, I wonder, is this all about, short of the fact that I am a glutton for punishment (as in length of time required to complete afghan)?  So many things attract me to making these afghans, and they ultimately serve more than a few purposes, so, what's wrong with a little list-O-Rama?

Why do I make afghans?

1. Sometimes it's delightful to craft a piece that once we understand the pattern it is eternally repetitive (think, what I do while conversing or listening to radio or watching TV).

2.  Short of baby blankets, Afghans are another lost craft form.  Rarely do we allow ourselves time to make something so bluntly esoteric.  I love hearkening back to slower times, no matter how contrived my fantasy may be.

3. These patterns, and this purple, lavender and gold piece, are remarkable in their masculine abstract design.  One double crochet pulled tightly over two rows of other colors. Mathematical, pure, elegant.

Pattern and fabric.

And what is the purposefulness?
1. Afghans in our living room give us permission, even encourage us to sit around and talk/read/sleep.
2. Beautiful vintage adornment is what I love for my own abode.
3. I'm a crochet goddess and I have to make EVERYTHING (OK, almost everything).

And…confessional. What took me so long to finish this piece?  Frankly, it was Awful.  I thought it would work up too small, so I bought a little (but not enough) extra yarn and widened the thing.  This was a ridiculous mistake, because this throw was never meant to be as large as a queen size bed.  And so, halfway complete, I had more width than length, and the repeating waffles needed to be the length of the object.  How many times I wrapped this around my waist, wondering if I could somehow make it a skirt, I don't know, but ultimately,  after a bit of coaxing from my daughter, I called it a truce and finished the thing.  Fortunately, it wasn't as short as I feared, and once I put a finishing edge around, blocked it, and started with the camera, I made my peace.  Not every peace is exactly as I imagine, in fact, almost never.  And so, another exercise in acceptance, followed by joy, beauty, satisfaction, even fun.  Now, the fun part, blog and brag!

 blog and brag

Can't. Wait. Til Summer. (Hibiscus Tunic).

All in a summer's work!  It's not like I was working on one project, exclusively, this summer, but somewhere along the way this Hibiscus Tunic completely took over my life.  It was my first major endeavor in the workings of thread, rather than yarn.  Remember those hard little skeins of thread that you found at Granny's or Aunty's house when you were a child?  Sometimes there would be a section  of a doily or some such tiny-ness that would inspire to crochet or craft, but within minutes it was obvious that the fine craft of lacework is definitely a thing of the past.  So when I decided to delve into this little gem I knew I was in for trouble, although the fact that it was advertised in Interweave Crochet, one of my favorite magazines, encouraged me to soldier forth.

And so I plugged….and plodded.

Crucial moment: Must. Unravel.

 Somewhere on the front I hadn't quite memorized or figured out, exactly, what the pattern was.  There's a rather simple logic to the thing, but while reading the crochet pattern, it's easy to bulldoze through the directions without seeing the simple repetition.  My flowers looked a bit askew, but when I realized what I was missing it was time to rip rip rip (this was mid-July).

The thing went all the way to Maine with us.  On this glorious day, I found myself on a beach, staring at lovely mountainsides, terrific vistas, our travel companions frolicking in the water.   Summer joy, itself.

 It really wasn't until the hint of Fall was in the air that I began to scurry through this little ditty.   A mere few days after the Equinox, intermittently working on this beach-wear along with snuggly afghans (temps beginning to drop), I finally picked up the hook and managed to finish the beast during daughter's Belt Promotion Ceremony (always multitask).  A quick seam or two, block this baby, and bAM!  It's a new frock, ready for wear, a bit this season, and a whole lot in coming summers.

Can't. 

Wait. 

'Til Summer.

What's Terrific? Raren to Go!

My friend, Julie, took me to a reading by her friend, Peggy Shinner, from a recently published book of essays, You Feel So Mortal. Julie figured that I would enjoy the vibe and the content as it related to older and dying parents, loss, and our relationships with our own bodies. At the event itself, there was a lot to like.  Friendly people, beautiful food, not too noisy, and a sunny, terrifically rehabbed Chicago two-flat.  Peggy's reading was alive and vibrant. I was riveted by her stories, of her mother, her father, her self.  When, at the close of our event, my friend raised her hand and asked a question of the author, it was the closest I had been to crying in quite some time.  Sitting through these essays about dying parents, everyday life, the tears didn't come.   Somewhere between the   heavy loss that I'm experiencing and the joy of experiencing an afternoon with one of the most brilliant, vital, funny friends in my little hood, there was a sliver of teary hurt.  But I didn't, (cry), partly because I wasn't about to spend the afternoon talking about what 2014 means to me (except I do like to say 2014 is about paying cash).

So that was terrific.  There is a lot of terrific.  So much terrific, that I feel overwhelmed by it, particularly now that season has shifted to the lightness of Spring.  I went home with Peggy's newly signed book of essays, and I settled in to a dinner of leftovers (alone) and proceeded to read the whole thing by the following morning.  She's that good.  So many pieces resonate, and to my Chicago friends, especially Albany Park and environs, perhaps more so.  But now, as in many quickly read pieces, the detail flutters away,  but one word... Liberating.  Peggy said that losing her mom was liberating.  I'm sure this is true for so many of us, although the why has  to be different for each of us.  How losing my parents has liberated me I'm not really sure. I don't hold with myself the feeling that I'm doing anything for them, nonetheless, as I sat awake in the wee hours, about a week ago, I pondered not doing triathlon this summer, not even doing Ironman Wisconsin this summer, I felt that profound sense of. Liberation.
And the amazing thing about letting go of so much, I get more and more excited about doing things in place of those encumbrances.  Why do Ironman, when I can do ANYTHING!

Aided by today's sun, I took a moment to get a few shots of the Harlequin Afghan (wip).  This afghan represents a convergence of creative endeavors that have been fueling my fire.  It's a vintage pattern, it'll adorn my creative office space, it's portable, the colors are deadly, and it bridges the gap between then and now.  Even in the work that I'm doing, there's a sense of reaching back in time, I go through objects from years ago as I clean and organize my house, and welcome objects from Mom and Dad's estate.  I was rummaging through my old sewing patterns a few weeks ago, wondering what, if anything, of that collection I would be willing to sacrifice  to ebay, in the name of declutter.  Lo and behold, I was reminded that years ago, possibly even my first Ironman (certainly a half), I wore a tri-outfit that I made myself.

And so, the adventure of a new life, but in my case there's a heavy dose of things that have been there all along.  Some of those things hearken back to before my parents were very old, or even ill.  Those things remind me of myself before marriage, before kids, before mortgage, before co-habitation, even.  This little suit I made in my beautiful attic apartment near Holy Names college.  I had a little nook for sewing and I could watch the sun set over the south Bay.  How's that for terrific?  There aren't enough hours in the day to contain my creative urges.  Swimsuits, crochet, knit, food art, car art, redesign my home, jewelry!!!! I'm ready, and Rarin to go…in fact, years and years and years ago I had a terrific friend, full of energy and verve and my nickname was: Raren…Raren to go.