Knitterguy

Dear Evernote

We are not off to a good start. Actually, we haven’t even started. And I’m cranky.

I’d been reading about Evernote for a bit, and how people use it to plan trips, manage their budgets ('though I believe YNAB is better for that), and organize their recipe collections and prepare their shopping lists, and capture their research materials for the book they’re going to write, and organize their internet browser bookmarks. The latter appeals to me, because I have many recipes bookmarked, and when I go looking for them it’s a bit of a search and hunt and peck and trying to remember the name of the website and the name of the post entry. But I usually alway find the one I’m looking for.

My memory is pretty good, really, and I usually find what I want fairly quickly. I have a very good memory for faces, 'though not the names attached to those faces, and in fact I usually remember the stories of the people that the face belongs to. Back when I was a massage therapist, I could see a client and remember all kinds of things about them: the name of their husband or wife; what their job was, who their employer was; what kind of dog they had; what their ongoing medical issues were; that they were going on a vacation to Cuba next month, and so on. Their names...usually, no. But all in all, I think I have a pretty good memory. I wouldn’t say I remember everything --like Evernote does-- but I remember a lot. Sometimes the memories are good; sometimes they aren’t pleasant.

I figured I could get the knitting patterns organized in Evernote, and I’d even started planning the cataloging system I’d use. The patterns need some kind of organization, because right now they’re all in a folder on the hard drive of the computer, and I find what I want by looking through the items in the folder. There are a couple of subfolders --there’s one for Shetland lace, and one for Evelyn Clark’s patterns, for example-- but I’m still relying on memory to sort through a lot of documents. Some kind of cataloging system would be useful. 

So tonight I decided to get started with the software, and I installed it on my computer. Then I went to setup and register an account. The first thing I noticed is that the setup screen doesn't match what's shown in the online "Getting Started with Evernote" webpages, but I figured I could get through it. How hard could it be? (I enjoyed seeing the nifty slideshow of what Evernote could do for me, BTW, and how I will be able to remember everything.) So I put in my email address, username and password, and clicked "register".

Um. So it seems there is a problem with my desired username. I think that because I see a red exclamation mark beside the spot where I put the username. Maybe the name is already taken. Maybe I can’t have a space between my first and last name? Maybe I can’t use capital letters?

I wondered if maybe there would be some kind of onscreen tip that might give me a clue as to the problem. I didn't see one, and wondered if maybe the nifty slideshow was covering that up, so I clicked on the close window “x” up in the left corner, thinking that this would close the slideshow.

 And it closed the entire application. No registration.

So I looked at the online help for obvious clues as to the problem, but nothing obvious, and I really didn’t want to spend a hour or so going from topic to topic in the hope of finding what I needed to change. Surely a big company like Evernote would make this process really simple? I mean, if getting the account registered is this problematic, how difficult will the program be to use? If the online “getting started” guide doesn’t match up with the user interface, what else won’t match up?

I found a page on the company website where one could get support or report a problem, and as I see it, there’s a problem when you can’t get started. Now the thing is, when you use Evernote, you can be a “Free User” --so you don’t pay for the service-- or you can be a “Premium User” and you pay the company some money to get...well, I’m not sure what you get for your money. I figure I’ll start as a Free User and see how it works for me, then if I really like the service and I find it really helpful in my life, maybe I’ll pay up when I find out what I get as  a Premium User.

But, it looks like you have to be a Premium User to let the company know there is a problem. Like, that you can’t open an account. You have to have a valid username to submit a help support ticket.

You need to have an account, with a valid username, to tell them you can’t get an account.

Now, I have a post-graduate diploma in applied information technology. I have built databases, from determining user requirements, to writing Use Cases to defining objects and their relationships and converting those to ERDs and developing database tables, and writing Select queries, and designing user interfaces, and writing a user manual. I have written and self-published knitting patterns. I’ve taught a few knitting classes, with handouts. I know how hard it is to write instructions and get things right so they work.

I know that companies pay people to do everything they can to crash the system, so that it can be made better.

And I get it that companies can’t be handing out free help to nonpaying customers.

Even though I don’t always believe it, I think I am a reasonably intelligent person. I should be able to figure out how to set up an account with Evernote. Evernote should be able to figure out how to make this process as smooth as possible, and that includes some screen tips at the registration page to help people like me who should be able to set up an account to do so.

But if they don’t know this is a problem, how can they fix it? If they don’t create a system for non-premium users to let them know there is a problem, how can they fix that and win the trust of the non-premium user -- who might decide to become a paying Premium User? 

I don’t remember everything. I’ll remember this experience. But what I’d prefer to remember is how great Evernote’s customer service is, and what a great system it is and how it made my life simpler. At this point, I don't see I'll have the chance for that.

The Notebook

During my big clearing-out during the spring, I found pads of paper and notebooks. Some were in the bankersbox of greeting cards and postcards I've accumulated over the years, in my knitting basket and knitting bags, one in a desk drawer, and several on various bookcases. Just about every one had some writing in it or evidence of torn-out or partly torn-out pages. There are spiral-bound notebooks like I used in high school; hard-cover journals; steno notepads; pads of lined sheets, usually of yellow recycled paper, and; a surprising number of pads of graph paper -- you know, the ones with horizontal and vertical blue lines that form squares. These are either 4 or 5 squares to the inch, and invaluable for charting knitting patterns.

I like handwriting notes -- or as my Mom would say, I like handscrawling notes, such is the state of my penmanship. I know many people use the Notes apps on their tablets and smartphones or they record messages to themselves, but if I’m trying to sort a problem or I’m brainstorming or making a list, I really prefer using pen and paper. The exception is grocery lists, which go on the iPhone. (And if anyone has a grocery store app that you particularly like please point me to it in the comments and tell me why you like it. Thanks.) I can write (scrawl) faster than I can type, and I find there is a directness and simplicity of pen to paper that I prefer to using a keyboard, in some circumstances.

I spent some time on memory lane through these pages while I was sorting stuff. There were lists of things to pack when I was planning a trip (“4 pair undies; 3 pair socks; deodorant; green shirt; wear boots/pack sandals”); a to-do list before leaving on the trip (“pack; mailbox key to Martha; fridge stuff to Stan; rent check; garbage/recycling; lights off!”); lists of seed catalogs to buy, likely copied from an article in a gardening magazine in the pre-internet days.

Anyway. The pads of paper and notebooks that have blank pages in them are still useful, so they were gathered up into a bag, and I’ll work my way through them over the next few months. Just this week, in fact, I grabbed one to capture ideas during a brainstorming session with friends over supper. Later, I flipped through the notebook and started to puzzle my way through some of the previous notes.

Written on the very first page are names and telephone numbers, so as far as my memory can tell, I started this notebook for my trip to the US midwest when I first attended Meg Swansen’s Knitting Camp. I can’t remember when that was...I think it was summer 1994 or 1996. Maybe 1998. (I used to have the t-shirt --it was red-- and the date was printed on that, but can’t find the t-shirt.) As I recall, I flew into Chicago-O’Hare, and someone I knew from the internet picked me up and we spent a few days in his town. I remember that we attended a potluck dinner, and maybe that’s where I got the recipe for “Corn Casserol”. Some day maybe I’ll make it, since I like Corn Casserole from the Midwest. (This isn’t even written in the notebook; it’s printed --dot-matrix-- on a piece of tractor-fed paper stapled to one of the pages.)

We drove up to Marshfield Wisconsin so I could attend Camp. Along the way we stopped at Blackberry Ridge Woolen Mill.

Camp was great. In fact that whole trip was great. I made lists of things to learn about; articles from past issues of Spin-Off magazine to read; addresses of people to send copies of my book or pattern to. There are titles of books to read. Apparently I was going to send a bank draft for $32 US to a PO box in Texas for something. I wish I could remember what that something was, and whether I actually did it.  And I hope I sent Judy the recipes for Ginger Caraway Carrots and Caramel Corn. Someone named “Genny” -- and I have no memory of who she is or how or where on the trip I met her -- gave me the recipe for “Hazel Belt’s Coffee Cake”. It calls for plums, and the local plum harvest will be coming in soon, so I’ll give it a try. I see there is note about Provincetown Massachusetts, which I visited for the first time last year.

After Camp, my friend Jerry and I travelled for a few days visit with a mutual friend in Indiana, then down to Jerry’s home in Illinois for a few days. Jerry threw a potluck supper in my honor, and I made Watermelon Granita. It has 3 ingredients, and as I recall, it was delicious. In fact, at least once each summer in the past few years I’ve wondered what I did with that recipe, so I am pleased to find it. Not everyone likes watermelon, I know, but if you do, clear some space in your freezer and give it try in the hot summer months.

And for those who can’t read the scrawl, it basically goes like this.

Puree enough seedless watermelon to measure 4 cups. Stir in the juice of a lemon, and about 1/2 cup sugar, to taste. Pour this into a wide shallow pan, and put in the freezer. Check it after about 1/2 hour, as it should be freezing, and you want to take a fork and rake it through the mix to break up the crystals. Repeat the freeze/rake process a couple of times. The granita won’t have a the smooth consistency of ice cream or sherbet; it’s more like the crushed ice texture of a snow cone, maybe a bit coarser.

I’ve moved

Literally.

So there’s been a long absence here, and in the event that anyone drops by to see if I’m alive: yes, I am.

Last summer it became clear that my job and I weren’t getting along. It was taking a really heavy toll on my health, and in the end the company and I agreed to go our separate ways. I was exhausted, depressed, and felt empty. And, mostly, I felt broken.

People would ask “How did this happen to you? You’re a reasonably bright guy...how did you not see this coming and do something to not get in such a bad place?” Well, you know, that’s a complex thing.  I thought it would all get better; at some point the pieces would fall into place. I kept telling myself:

• Cheer up! It’s worse where there’s none!
• Count your blessings; start a gratitude journal!
• Remember: "Happiness is an attitude. We either make ourselves miserable, or happy and strong. The amount of work is the same. ~ Francesca Reigler"
• Man up; grow a set; step up to the plate!
• Successful people give 110% to what they do. "Four short words sum up what has lifted most successful individuals above the crowd: a little bit more. They did all that was expected of them and a little bit more. ~ A. Lou Vickery"
• Would we have lightbulbs if Edison had given up at the 499th try? No: he didn’t quit!

And it’s like how you boil a frog alive: put it in a pot of cool water and raise the temperature. The frog doesn't realise it's been boiled alive. I was that frog; I couldn’t even see where I was at. In retrospect, the panic attack in the grocery store was about more than not having made a shopping list.

The rest of last year is a bit of a fog. I travelled a lot. Gradually I started to get my mind back, and maybe some of my soul, too. But it’s hard when you feel broken, and it’s hard when you know there is something wrong with your head and your mind, and your thinking is foggy and you are forgetting details and you can’t remember things that you believe you should be able to remember. It’s hard when you think about your home, and while you know you don’t want to be there you’ve no idea where you want to be instead. It’s hard when people ask “So...are you ever gonna work again?” and you have no answer, because...well, there is no answer. There was just this feeling of panicked flailing around in a weird, empty head-fog when I tried to think up an answer.

There were, also, these overwhelming feelings of guilt and shame and embarrassment that I should be working; I should know the kind of work I want to do; I should know where I want to live; I should have a plan; I should have goals. I am a white, middle-aged, university-educated male; I belong to one of the most priviledged classes in the history of the world. What was wrong with me that I wasn't making that priviledge work for me? What was wrong with me?? Why was I so broken?? Why couldn't I fix myself??

Frankly, I just wanted someone to wrap me up in a blanket and hold me. Most people, including me, don't consider that "a goal". (And, anyway, there wasn't anyone to do the wrapping and holding.)

And eventually I stopped talking to a lot of people --or they stopped talking to me--  because there just wasn’t anything to talk about. Nobody cares what you had for lunch or whether you ate lunch. (And when you're the size I am, the assumption is you ate a lot of lunch. Often.) They want to know whether you're working; when are you going to get a job; do you know what kind of job you want; do you know where you want to live. And when you just go blank --when you have no answer, no answer they can see as concrete or real or rational-- you watch them blink and you see the thought "...well...okay then...this is pointless, moving on..." go across their face. And I totally understand that.

Thank goodness I had a therapist who said --over and over and over-- “Just give it time. Stop judging yourself. Stop fumbling around trying to answer peoples’ questions about when you’re going to get a job and where you’re going to live. Just let it be okay to have time for the dust to settle.”

Thank goodness for the handful of friends who checked in every so often to see if I was alive. Especially the ones who said “Yes, I know what you’re posting on Facebook. And how’s it really going?”

Thank goodness, also, for the wonderful friends who offered hospitality when I was on the road. I couldn't have made those trips without your generosity.

And then, somewhere around the middle of December I decided to bake Christmas cookies. I couldn't remember when I’d last made cookies, or baked anything. Somewhere in there I started to bake the odd loaf of bread. Looking back at it, I think that’s when the fog started to lift. A bit.

And this spring, I realised that I needed to get rid of stuff, because sometimes your stuff prevents you from moving forward. I read a piece of advice somewhere that your stuff should facilitate your having the life you want, not reflect the life you have. And while I didn’t know the life I want --still don’t; it's why I'm a failure as a life-coaching client-- I knew what I didn’t want, and that helped with sorting and discarding. I got rid of books, furniture, yarn and spinning fibre. (Lots of yarn and spinning fibre. Lots and lots of yarn and spinning fiber.) A full 8-place setting of china that I had not once used since unpacking it 10 years ago. I found my sister's Grade 10 high school English notes, which for some reason I had been carrying around since I-don't-know-when.

And then I grappled with the frustration that while I knew that the town I lived in didn’t support me as an individual, I didn’t know where I wanted to live, other than San Francisco. Still don’t. San Francisco isn't even vaguely possible. Then I remembered that last fall a friend had suggested St Catharines, Ontario. I hadn’t seriously considered that area, but since I didn’t know where else to go, why not?

Finding an apartment was looking like an insurmountable problem, and just when I was ready to throw in the towel and forget about relocating, an opportunity to housesit for 6 months came up in a small village just outside St Catharines. I moved in some days ago. And the end of 6 months, we’ll see. Maybe I’ll be lead somewhere else.

That’s it for now. Thanks for reading. I hope to post more often in the future!

In the Event...

that anyone ever drops by to see if I've written anything lately, here is a short update on my goings-on.

• Yes, I am alive.  My life has been swallowed by work for the last year or more, then things got even more intense in January. In February, I thought I was handling the stress okay until several of my co-workers independently came to me and expressed concern about my health. (In retrospect, I suppose constantly working 6 day weeks, and eating frozen pizza for supper and breakfast while skipping lunch 5 times weekly is not handling stress well.) I think there is something in numerology that when your age hits a year divisible by 4, you can expect there to be some sort of crisis. So apparently the planets have aligned appropriately, or the right Tarot card spread happened, or my psyche simple decided it was time to sift through life values and beliefs. Or something. It's amazing what surfaces in counselling sessions.

• Work continues at a frantic pace. While I have feared for my job security in the past, I am more concerned now than ever. On the other hand, maybe it's all part of The-BIg-Plan-That-Runs-the-Every-4-Year-Crisis.

• I am slated to attend Abby Franquemont's "Stringtopia", a 3-day extravaganza for handspinners in April in Ohio. I am taking a 1 day workshop with Sara Lamb on knitting with silk. We've been told to bring whatever silk yarns we might have on hand and some needles. There is no workshop description. This is all a bit vague for me. I like Sarah's boldly coloured woven silk kimonos , and I have been assured that she is "beyond awesome" when it comes to silk. The way the word "awesome" is so mindless tossed around in conversation these days leaves me feeling somewhat wary, but I will go in with an open mind. The other workshops I'm taking are on spinning: 1 day-long workshop on "rut busting" (all handspinners get into ruts), and a 1/2 day worship on improving spindlespinning skills.

• Prior to the event I hope to spend a few days in Champaign IL: will visit with my friends Dirk and Jerry; sit in a chair in their backyard staring mindlessly at the sky; hang out a bit at the yarn store; sit in a chair in the backyard at Dirk and Jerry's house staring mindlessly at the sky; maybe get out to Allerton Park for a walk; and sit in a chair in the backyard at Dirk and Jerry's house staring mindlessly at the sky. Some of these activities depend on not having rainy weather. And the entire trip could get scuttled depending what goes on at work. 

• Yes; those are my hands in the photo on page 559 of the recently released "Principles of Knitting" by June Hiatt. WonderMike had lots of fun (I think) taking a bazillion photos of me spindlespinning when I was in San Francisco last September and it was a real treat to be able to give June a picture she could use in the book.

This is all. I'll try to give an update from Stringtopia.

Prairie Scarf - Finished

Earlier this year I fished a hat out of the front hall closet. I couldn’t remember when I’d made it --maybe 2004?-- and as much as I liked the hat I didn’t wear it. So I ripped, skeined and washed the yarn. I figured I could use it for something.

The yarn was spun by me, but I have only a vague recollection of buying the fiber and no idea when I spun it.  The fibre was commercial top, a blend of merino and alpaca, possibly a now-discontinued product from Ashland Bay.  As far as I can figure, it was brown merino with multi-colours of alpaca running the length of the top. The yarn was in short-ish lengths which varied in colour, so I expect I stripped the top lengthwise, spindle spun and plied the spindle-ful of singles into a 2-ply yarn. The hat had been worked with the yarn held doubled, which blended the colour variations. I didn’t even recognize the colour variations until I was well into working the scarf.

When I was going to NYC in May, inspired by the Helix Scarf in Spin-Off magazine, I cast-on Lucy Neatby’s “Sea Lettuce Scarf”.  After a couple of inches, I decided I disliked the feel of the fabric. The garter stitch fabric was heavy and felt clumsy. The project sat on a table in the living room.

Back in September when my back fell apart and I was laying in bed all weekend every weekend wondering if I would get to San Francisco, I decided to cast-on a knitting project for the trip. I mean, if I were to have a project ready to go for the trip, surely I’d be going, right? (Positive thinking and all that.) The book “All New Homespun Handknit” (Interweave Press, 2009) was within reach on the floor beside the bed and, flipping through, I considered the pattern for the Prairie Scarf by Nancy Bush, made from Judith McKenzie-McCuin's handspun bison yarn and using traditional Estonian lace patterns. On a trip to the kitchen for tea I saw the abandoned Sea Lettuce Scarf...a few things added up in my mind. I worked a small sample, liked what I felt in my hands and cast on for the scarf.

Well, almost. I read the instructions through and wondered if there’d be an easier way.  Nancy has you cast-on provisionally, work 3 ridges garter stitch (adding a 4th ridge when you take out the provisional cast-on edge) and then you work a couple of lace charts, finishing with an edging chart. You take out the provisional cast-on and add a fourth garter ridge and then work the edging. That’ll work, I’m sure. But I was concerned I might not have enough yarn, so I did the provisional cast-on and worked the second edging first, then took out the provisional cast-on and worked the scarf to finish. Turned out I had ample yarn, so I added a couple of extra pattern repeats and still have some yarn remaining. Here's a picture of it just started. (Lace in progress is glamourous in an ugly duckling kind of way.)

Estonian lace patterns are marvellous. Many --including the main pattern here-- are simple to work as there is a wonderfully clear, obvious logic in their design. Once you know what to look for in the fabric --and it’s pretty evident-- you can throw away your copy of the chart. Very easy to have the piece as something you can carry around to work on whenever you have a few moments. (Thanks to WonderMike for the image.)

Two small technical points. First is that I substituted “SSSK” for “slip 1, k2tog, psso” as a mirror to the “K3tog” decrease, since ““slip 1, k2tog, psso” doesn’t truly mirror “K3tog”. (Try it and see.)

Second is that I don’t slip the first stitch of all rows, as the pattern will have you do and is traditional in Estonian lace knitting. While it gives a very sharp, clean selvedge edge, it usually results in a shortening of the second-from-end stitch on alternate rows, which distorts the edge. If you think about this, you can see why. The edge stitch has to be long enough to span 2 rows -- and 2 very long rows when you consider that the piece will be stretched in blocking. Unless you take that into consideration and make the stitch extra long, it’s going to get the needed length of yarn from the stitch beside it. (When I saw the display of Estonian lace at Lacis in Berkeley during my trip, I looked very closely at the pieces to see if the Master Knitters of Estonia had this distortion in their work...and they do. I felt quite chuffed about this, actually. Here I am, just a lil ole nobody knitter in Canada, and the Master Knitters of Estonia’s work show the same technical issues that my work does. Then considered that maybe I shouldn’t be setting myself up as a Master Knitter based on a technical problem, and then also considered that maybe the Master Knitters of Estonia don’t find anything wrong with the selvedge distortion. Maybe they don’t even consider it a distortion, but just how the selvedge is.)

You can see the horizontal striping caused by the different colours of the yarn. Some people might not like that, but I do. Not sure why. The reason is not about looks; there’s something more philosophical about using beginner yarn. I really wish I could feel the original model, because I expect Judith McKenzie-McCuin’s handspun bison yarn is amazing, and would feel and perform very differently in the finished scarf than my merino/alpaca yarn does.

I have mixed feeling about the edgings. The body of the scarf is stocking stitch fabric; the ends are garter stitch. Garter stitch is a thicker, heavier fabric than stocking stitch, so, to me, the ends somehow feel out-of-place on this piece. On the other hand, their weight may help the scarf hang properly. I think that if I make this design again --a definite possibility-- I’ll work the edging in stocking stitch based fabric, ending with maybe 3 ridges garter stitch.

All in all, I think it turned out okay. The pattern is not difficult to follow; a knitter with some experience working basic lace should have no problems with it.

In Other News

There isn't any. See you later.

Um...September?

So where did that month go? Oh, I remember: it was swallowed up by work. (And then my low back fell apart, which was not pretty.)

Except for the last week of September, when I hobbled off to San Francisco. There are only a few pictures, because I am not good at remembering to take pictures, and my camera is doing this thing where it produces pictures that look like this.

Anybody know what’s happening? Is it time for a new camera?

The trip was great. I love San Francisco. I don’t know why. If it was in Canada, I’d move there. (See, I read stories like this about health care in the USA, and I get worried.) The trip came together at the last moment. At first I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to get away from the office, and then the low back thing hit and, as I said, that wasn’t pretty. Then it was hard to find a hotel room, as this was busy season. It finally all came together, with my only concerns being a) whether I could get a hotel room for the last night of my stay, and b) whether I’d be mobile enough to do anything other than lay in a hotel bed and eat pastries and sandwiches from Tartine. (Things could be worse than that.)

But on the appointed day, I hobbled through the airport at 5amEST and arrived at my hotel in San Francisco around 1pmEST or 10amPST (San Francisco time).  My hotel wasn’t ready for me, but they held my luggage while I hobbled around the neighbourhood. I knew that Tartine was kinda within walking distance and that there was a yarn store there somewhere, but I couldn’t find either. I didn’t have a map, was in pain, and sleep deprived. (I’d been awake since 8:30am the previous day.) Found a Starbucks with free-WIFI and using the iPad I charted my route to Tartine, where I had excellent bread pudding and a Morning Bun. Then back to the hotel; checked in, went to bed around 2pm San Francisco time, and slept to 6am next morning.

The hotel I was at for the first few days of the trip is The Willows, and I recommend it highly. My room was small, but everything I needed. There was a small fridge and a sink in the room, with shower and WC a couple of doors down the hall. The staff are great: friendly, knowledgable and helpful. Continental breakfast was fine, and Happy Hour was pleasant. The Willows draws an international clientele: during my stay other guests were from Australia, New Zealand, Italy, Brazil, Qua’tar and Germany. The owner explained that the building had originally been build as a storefront property on the ground floor with the upper 2 stories as boarding house; they are now the hotel. This tells you that, yes, there are a few stairs. (And it’s easy to miss the door for The Willows on the street; I walked past it a couple of times.) The hotel is a few steps from the above- and under-ground transit lines. (At some point I mentioned that my birthday was during my stay. Came home one day to find a birthday card from the staff and a single-serving of carrot cake from the neighbourhood bakery in the fridge.)

Partway during my stay, I moved down to the Hotel Whitcombe, also right on the transit system. This is a big hotel, and a totally different experience to the Willows. It was completely fine, and I’d stay there again. (Though I’d stay at The Willows first, preferring the intimacy of the experience and the neighbourhood.)

And despite having problems walking (and standing and sitting), I had a great time. There were some things I’d hoped to do that didn’t happen, but Serendipity worked some magic and unexpected things happened. I am so lucky to have wonderful friends in the Bay Area and we had fun together. WonderMike had supper with me early in the trip, and then spent the entire Saturday with me in Berkeley, stopping at A Verb For Keeping Warm, Lacis, and a visit with Nancy at Machine Knitting to Dye For. Andy chauffeured me to south San Francisco for some shopping, and then we toured part of the city which really helped me get a sense of here things are. Kyle and I hung out one evening, with a trip to the waterfront, then up to the GLBT Museum, and a stop in a diner for a lace knitting lesson. Bill took me to the yarn shop I couldn’t find my first day there, and then we went fabric shopping and then he sewed that into a light kimono-style robe for me. (Useful when travelling, staying in B&Bs and you need something to slip into for padding down the hall to the shower.)

Weather was lovely. Early in the trip I was sweating heavily, and chalked this up to being in pain and difficulties walking. Apparently, though, it was unseasonably hot and humid during those days. (I think it was about 85 degrees, which is considered hot.) No rain whileI was there. Near the end of my last day, there were some delciously cool breezes. (Locals complained that it was cold.)

Some photos.

Imagiknit, just down the street from Tartine. Great yarn store, nice selection of yarn. They didn’t even blink when Bill and I walked in, but then I guess they’re used to guy-knitters there. (Unbelievably, I didn't get a picture of Tartine.)

A hedge at a house. On the left is lavender, and the plants are about 3anahalf feet tall. (Not sure what is on the right.)

Thorough Bread Bakery, just down the street from The Willows. Excellent sandwiches.

SightGlass Coffee, where I had The Best Cup of Coffee I Have Ever Tasted. I couldn’t believe that coffee could possibly taste so good.

Andy and Stephen at SightGlass.

A Verb For Keeping Warm, where Kristine dyes yarn and fibre using natural dyes. (Natural dyes, for those of you who don’t know, means the chemicals that colour the yarn come from plant or animal sources, rather than being synthesized in the lab.) The yarns are gorgeous. I don’t know if it’s just my eyes, but there seems to be a gentleness about the colours that I don’t see in synthetic dyes, which somehow seem harsher. (First picture: nope, not looking through a beaded curtain. That's my camera doing strange things.)

As I said, Serendipity played her hand. I was in San Francisco for the Castro Street Fair. Andy and his partner Mike, and Kyle and I wandered the street. First pic is looking south down Castro Street, from the intersection of Castro and Market. Second pic is looking north from approximately the intersection of Castro and 19th. Third pic is about the same location; that’s Andy in the white shirt and black kilt.

Thank you to all my wonderful friends for companionship, conversation, and laughter. Auf Wiedersehn, San Francisco.

In Other News

Well, I’m now back. Life is as it is. Work is brutal. My back is okay, but not well. I have little time or headspace or energy to knit, spin, bake, think, plan.

Fall is setting in. Here’s a picture of the view from my balcony. (Click to enlarge.)

July Redux

At least, I think it's a redux. Maybe "redux" is the wrong word. Here, in point form, are thoughts about the month that was. Parts of it could be "The Year That Was", as you'll see.

• My Dad died on July 11th after a very sharp and rapid deterioration of his health. On August 7th 2010, Dad moved into the lodge ajoining the apartment building Mom and Dad had moved into a few years earlier, as his health and mind had been deteriorating and it wasn't safe for him or Mom for him to be in the apartment. His health had continued to deteriorate and it became clear that he needed a higher level of care than could be provided in the lodge, so the the next move up in care was to "long-term care" or the nursing home. Dad had always said he never wanted to go into a nursing home, and when he and Mom recently discussed it he said "Well, I guess this is the end of the line." Had he made it to September, they'd have been married 69 years. Mom is doing as well as can be expected.

• Naturally, this happened in one of the busiest months of the year for us at work when, coincidentally, the brand-new phone system crashed and could not get running reliably for 4 weeks; the airconditioning stalled out during the hottest week of the month in an office building with no windows that can be opened; the internet went down for a week, and; the writing of a report went on f-o-r-e-v-e-r. On July 27th 2010, I was relocated to another office within the company requiring a 1 hour drive each way to work (in good weather: winter is another story), and a new business model and a new operations model. It's been an interesting time (as the Chinese curse goes), with a few too many 60 hour weeks and crying myself to sleep at night. On the other hand, the alternative of "no job" is no good either.

• I finished knitting the Alligator Scarf, a nice kit from Morehouse Farms. Great concept, solid instructions. There was enough yarn supplied that I added extra length. Lotsa fun.

• I finished spinning the merino top that I started at the Men's Spring Knitting Retreat.  Actually, I finished it this weekend past, so I really finished it in August. Dye-job is by Fleece Artist in the  "Pumpkin" colourway. It's a brilliant orange --like the rind of a ripe pumpkin-- shot with creamy white --like the flesh of a pumpkin-- and the rare bit of orange-smudged-with-green --like a spot on a pumpkin sometimes is. I think I am now finished with the colour orange. (I am not sure, but Fleece Artist may no longer be dyeing fiber. It's not listed on the website.) I wasn't going to post pictures of this for a bit as it is a gift, but the recipient doesn't read my blog so there's no spoiler. The photos show it more yellow than it is; it's really a brilliant orange. 100 grams; a generous 1050 yards.
 

• Speaking of the men's knitting retreats, there are still 3 scheduled in the USA for 2011. The indefatiguable WonderMike is shepherding the West Coast retreaters (always an intriguing group of men) in Seattle (Sept 1-4) for the 4th year; Barry is coordinating the Midwest Retreat again in Michigan (Nov 10-13), and; Rusty is hosting the first South East Retreat in South Carolina (Nov 11- 13). I believe there are still spaces available for each retreat, but you should check with each coordinator to see. If you are thinking of attending, don't dawdle on contacting the coordinators.

• Since getting the iPod a couple of years ago and the iPad earlier this year, I've been buying music through iTunes. It's fast, reliable. This weekend past, though, something struck me about what I don't like about that, and why I like CDs. I like reading program notes. I like reading what the musicians have to say about the music; I like reading the names of the performers on each track of music and details of how the music was put together. That info isn't there on downloads. After sampling the wonderful collection of music "Los Impossibles" by Christine Pluhar, her band (L'Arpeggiata) and guests, I wondered what I was listening to. It took some hunting around youtube to find this clip where Pluhar talks about the music. It's really very interesting; well worth a watch/listen. (And the music is wonderful.) But nowhere on the downloads from iTunes will you find any information about where the music came from. (And what a surprise that is.)  Or the names of the performers: who is the soprano singing "Marizápalos"?  And is that a banjo playing in "El Guapo"?

This, I think, is all for now.

NYC 2011 - Part 2

Lots of photos in this post, which finishes up the second week of my trip in NYC. Jack and I got home from the men's knitting retreat, and spent the next day -- Monday -- regrouping. I had a summer cold, and spent some time coughing and sniffling. I have to say, we had perfect weather this week: it was mostly hot, and bright and sunny: big contrast to the previous week. Oddly, I got lots of pictures of flowers, but not many of anything else. No idea why it played out that way.

Tuesday, Mar and I connected and took the train into The City. We passed through the station in Secaucus, with its marvellous statue.

 

 

We went to Habu, where I may have bought some yarn. When you step off the elevator in the building holding Habu, there's this lovely design in the floor.

We wandered through the city. I think we were generally in the wholesale flower district. (First and third photos, BTW, are of artificial flowers. I loved the colours.)

Overhead walkway at  32nd Street.

On Wednesday, Jack and I headed into the city. We met up with Michael and crossed over into Brooklyn to Brooklyn General, the yarn and fabric store. I may have bought some yarn and a few do-dads. (Excellent pizza in the small shop next to Brooklyn General.)  Weather was very warm, clear and sunny (actually, the clearest day of the week, I think) which was very good as we took the ferry to Staten Island. (The ferry was very crowded: I couldn't get close enough to an open window to take pictures.

On Thursday, we went to The Cloisters. The subway stops just south of Fort Tryon Park, which flows beautifully into the property holding the museum. (Or the museum sits within the Park: not sure which it is.) It was a gorgeous day to walk the  Heather Garden in Fort Tryon Park. From the park, you can see the George Washington Bridge crossing the Hudson River.

 

Peonies and irises were in full bloom in the garden.

We visited the Cloisters museum. I saw one of my favourite statues, and then strolled through the gardens. (Which includes an espaliered pear tree.)

 



 

We subwayed back downtown, and met Mark for supper. Some walking through the neighbourhood and then home. (I think we went past the Stonewall.)

Friday was my last day for sightseeing. We subwayed up to The Cathedral of John the Divine, where I hoped the fountain would be operating. (It wasn't.) The Cathedral is just above Morningside Park. You go down steps into the park from the street. (Just one of the many flights of stairs I went up or down in NYC.)

There's a beautiful water fountain in the park. It wasn't running, but you could see the 2 pans that would hold water.

So we visited the grounds of John the Divine, went across the street for iced coffee and pastry at the little Hungarian pastry shop. (Well worth it!)

And then we walked the length of Central Park. I could walk that every week. The batteries in the camera died partway through, so I got fewer photos than I wanted.

Here's the fountain in the centred of the French-style section of the Conservatory Garden.

One of the shaded paths in the Italian-style section of the Conservatory Garden.

And the English-style section is also beautiful.

And that's about where the camera died. We finished the walk through the park, and headed back home. Pizza and beer for supper -- some of you will note that I ate pizza on 3 consecutive days -- and then I started to pack up for the flight out next day.

I had a splendid 2 weeks, even with the sniffly and coughing of the cold. Many thanks to Jack and Judy for their hospitality. Their lovely little home is a great base for the city, and I am so grateful that they allow me to visit.

MSKR 2011

Jack and I left very early on the Thursday morning, driving through rain and fog, to meet a group of retreat attendees at Green Mountain Spinnery in Putney, Vermont. A tour of the mill had been arranged prior to the retreat for anyone who wanted to go, and as I think that everyone who knits should see how yarn is made I was really pleased by how many guys attended. After seeing the process from raw wool in the storage area through washing, teasing, carding to spinning frames to skeins winders to shop shelves, the guys did some selective purchasing. It was the first time I’d seen a couple of these guys in 2 years, so it was a great opportunity to chat and get caught up. Then it was time for lunch: the Front Poach Cafe had been alerted that we’d be showing up, so they set a table for us on...well, the front porch.

Easton Mountain was beautifully green. It rained a lot while we were there.

The retreat was really enjoyable for me. I hadn’t rushed in, as in past years, and I was a lot less stressed about life, which has been a problem in the past. I really enjoyed myself, and thank Joe and Willy for organizing a great gathering, and the staff at Easton Mountain for keeping us fed, and all the attendees for going in with the best intentions that we have a successful gathering. Many thanks also to the companies and businesses that contributed yarn and books and fibre and gadgets for swag and for prizes.

We had workshops.

A trip to Foster Sheep Farm.

A full bowl of candy for those moments when you’ve dropped a stitch and need to reinforce your spirit with a hit of chocolate.

 

There was lots of time for chitchat, knitting and spinning.

Duing the retreat, Joe, Mike and I went into the studios of WRPI-Troy as guests on the program “The Quest of Life”, hosted by Harry Faddis and Steve Simms. We spoke about the men’s knitting retreats, about men knitting and I can’t-remember-what-else. I think we all did really well.  The interview has been archived here: you’ll need the basic Quicktime player to listen to it. (That's Harry, then Steve, in the studio.)

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And of course, we had show’n’tell. I had 4 items this year. Two have been shown on the blog: the spindle-spun white scarf (I took it so the beginning spindle-spinners could see that with practice you can make enough yarn to make something real), and; the grey scarf from the fleece that I bought last year at from Carole at Foster Farm. (The scarf has gone to live with Carole.)

The third item was the Pink Poodle Scarf from Morehouse Farm. I saw it on their website, thought it a hoot, ordered the kit. I don’t think anyone got a picture of me modelling it, so  here’s one I just took in my apartment. I dunno; somehow I’m not sure it’s Me. 

 

The last item has a bit of a story.  Back in 1987, I was one of a dozen male knitters interviewed by Knitters magazine (issue 6; Spring 1987). None of us was a “knitting personality” or a “name” in the knitting biz: we were all just guys who knit. (I think a couple of the guys owned yarn stores.) It was an interesting article for a craft magazine to run, since the content of craft magazines was (and is) about patterns or product news. But Knitters was in an early development stage (Issue 6, after all) and, I think, experimenting with what its content could be to appeal to a target market.  (I understand that customer response was extremely negative.)

One of the retreat attendees emailed me shortly before the retreat to ask if that was really me in the article. I dug out my copy of the magazine to look at what I’d actually said -- or rather, what they chose to publish of what I’d said during the interview. (Wow; I was young back then.)  Buried in the few paragraphs of my interview was a mention of my first knitting project. I was somewhere between 8 and 10 years old, at home sick with a bug of some kind. Restless. I had craft books from the public library; one had a pattern for a teddy bear.  I’d been watching my Mom and grandmums knit for as a long as I could remember. One thing led to another, and I turned out my first knitting project. Primitive from many perspectives, but it worked. I still have it, and took it for show’n’tell. Here it is.

Eventually we all packed up, said good-byes, and went on our ways. All in all, a very good weekend.

 

NYC 2011 - Part 1

I took a chunk of my vacation days in late May and went to NYC. Embedded in that trip was the Men’s Spring Knitting Retreat, held as usual at Easton Mountain. I’ll talk about it in another post; this post will be 1 of 2 about the trip to NYC.

I flew into Newark International Airport and stayed with Jack and Judy at their little house in a small town in New Jersey. It’s really a great spot, being 3 blocks from a commuter bus that takes you to the Port Authority in Manhattan for $12 return in about 30 minutes, depending on traffic. (It costs $8 to get through the Lincoln Tunnel, so $12 seems a great deal.) Weather was overcast and rainy when I arrived, as it was for much of the week.

Next day, Jack and I headed into Lincoln Centre to see the American Ballet Theater’s production of “Don Quixote” with music by Ludwig Minkus. (I know: I’d never heard of him either.) The principal dancers were Paloma Herrera and Jose Manuel Carreńo. Apparently Jose is retiring at the end of this year’s season, and according to Jack he danced like a guy 20 years younger, pulling out all the stops. (Um...pipe organ metaphor; sorry.) The audience loved him. This was my first time at a ballet, and I note that ballet-ophiles are as wildly enthusiastic as opera-ophiles: cheering and applause after individual numbers. (Quite different from your standard classical music concert where We Don’t Do That Kind of Thing.) I thought the whole thing absolutely dazzling. Dancers really are amazing in their attempts to beat gravity. That's me, in front of the  Metropolitan Opera House, one of the 3 buildings at Lincoln Centre.

Before the concert, we wandered around a bit. Weather was a bit iffy, as it had been raining, but mostly the rain held off for us. The flower beds in front of Lincoln Centre were full of Allium Gigantium. When I was taking this picture, a passerby pulled herself up short so as not to put herself in the photo, asked if the flowers were anything special and whether she should take a picture of them. “Absolutely!” I said, and after she finished taking her pictures I took one of her in front of them. (She did offer to take one of me, but I declined.)

We wandered down (up?) to the Apple store so I could buy a cable adapter for my iPad. The cashier said it was a quiet day.

 

We saw some interesting architecture. (The sign over the door reads “If fraternal love held all men bound, how beautiful the world would be”.)

 We wandered through and past Central Park. Rhododenrons were full in bloom. All the plants were about 2-3 weeks ahead of ours here at home. Lilacs, for example, were finished blooming in NYC when I arrived. They’d not started blooming here when I left, but were in full bloom when I returned, as were the late tulips. But I didn’t see a tulip anywhere in NYC. (These pictures enlarge nicely. Click on them.)

 

Eventually we ended up at Columbus Circle.

Along the way, we saw the Tardis.

Next day it rained.  We took a fast trip to the yarn shop in Montclair, “Stix-n-Stitches”, as I needed to buy a needle. (And while there, got a copy of EZ’s “Knit One, Knit All”) Here’s the shop greeter.

And here’s the shop coffee table. Apparently it’s an Ikea product. The table is a series of  boxes, covered with a piece of glass. In the shop, each box holds a novelty yarn. Pretty neat.

A quiet evening followed. We packed, as there was an early day ahead of us to drive north for the Men’s Knitting Retreat.