Knitting on Impulse

Market Day

 

 

 

 

It was a most excellent day (and not a moment too soon to be having one of those.)  I'm off to bed, praying fervently that nothing nothing nothing thwarts tomorrow's Very Good Thing.

Coming up for Air

I've spent the last week... or two, feeling suspiciously like I was drowning. And consequently, not wanting to be a downer, not blogging.  I think the crux of it is simply that I forgot how much less Must-Do stuff I had going last summer.  Which is entirely due to the fact that our business has grown to the point of having a serious shot at putting food on the table - a truly wonderous and completely good thing, but it does mean that I have to be much more intentional and organized and even selective in order to make summer work for all of us.  That's the job of the mom, isn't it?  To hold in your brain the swirling chaos of needs, personalities, appointments and practical requirements of one's family and mold it into a coherent whole that is loving, healthy, stimulating, clever, comfortingly predictable, and doesn't feel stressful to any of them. (While running a full time home business) Except that, thanks to the boy-child's ongoing tummy issues, I have slept only sporadically for about two weeks now, which has done nothing to facilitate the higher brain functioning required to devise a brilliant summer strategy (not to mention the small matter of having been ill myself during that time.)

I choose to believe (however naively) that we are over the hump and the rest of summer will be fabulous. The scary newspaper interview is done (you can see the results of that here) and last night's ArtWalk reception was a resounding success, despite the 11th hour babysitter cancellation. Except for markets though, I'll be going to ground for a couple weeks in regard to face to face social functions, as I'm in dire need of recharging. 

I even put up new yarn this week.... and never blogged it (Doh) - I will try to take a stab at that later today.  Next week's yarn update will be Tuesday, rather than Monday, as there is something very wonderful taking up the Monday, only I'm not going to tell you until it happens so as not to jinx it.

Wanna see some of the new work I put out last night?

 

 

Knitting Through Adversity

So this Life Interference thing is just not letting up. The boy developed severe abdominal pain yesterday evening, resulting in a sleepless night and a long morning at ER (I'm totally impressed with our local medical system, though.) It looked a lot like appendicitis for a while, but looks more like a simple viral gastro now, so we are spending the day on the couch. 

Is it wrong that, with the possibility of a prolonged trip to the big city hospital in mind, I headed to ER with 2-3 days worth of knitting on board?

 

I started this a few days ago, wanting something mindless (both for Market knitting, and because that is pretty much all I'm capable of lately.) It is an.... evolving design (as in, I've changed my mind twice already, which is a most excellent perogative of top-down construction) - starting from my love of rustic yet graceful shawls like the Wool Peddler's (especially this variation), but tempered by the painful realization that I still haven't worked out a lifestyle / wardrobe / body shape combo that causes me ever to wear shawls.  Despite having a vast array of spectacular yarns at my fingertips, I reached for the rustic, hardwearing, lanolin-ey, wooliness of Briggs and Little Regal. I could easily carry/dye the stuff, but I keep holding off for fear I'm the only one who really loves it.

Teacher Gifts

I dyed the scarves, the kids drew the pictures, and I transfered them as faithfully as possible with fabric paint pens, which is a little tricky on light weight silk. 

Liam's offering for his kindergarten teacher (they raised butterflies this year, among other things):

 

Catrionagh had two teachers job sharing, as well as a full-time TA (and yup, they hatched chicks in class this year!):

 

 

Foggy

I keep putting off blogging just one more day, until the fog clears, until I can think of something fascinating and non-whiney to say but I'm afraid I'm just going to have to go with what I've got.

My head is (still!) crammed to overflowing with stuff more corporeal than inspirational - it started as a sinus bug, but I don't think cottonwood season is helping the situation any. Nevertheless, the end of June approaches like a screaming vortex of Must Do Now, and there's nothing for it but to press on. 

Speaking of that, I need to confess that I dyed the current set of Dark Water and Blackberry requests late last week (though I'll have to redo one of the DW sweater packs) but completely forgot to update that fact on the website. I keep thinking I'll do these things tomorrow when I feel less spacey and therefore less likely to screw up... guess not. Not sure exactly when I'll get the invoices out, but they will be coming in the near future.  There's always the odd skein that needs extra TLC or turns out to have a hitherto unnoticed flaw, which is why I am loth to announce a finish date in advance. 

In addition to working on the weekly colourway today (and executing a down-to-the-wire Ravelry ad submission), I dyed up some silk scarves for teacher gifts:

 

and since tomorrow is the last day I can be sure of catching everybody, I'll be spending the evening with fabric paint, transferring the kids' drawings:

 

The concept went over very well with last year's teachers - it's a nice combination of useable / functional, with a genuinely personal contribution from the kids. I don't know why I invariably wind up doing teacher gifts at the last second, though - it's not like the last day of school is a closely guarded secret. Next year I resolve to be more organized. Really. (Which reminds me, I ought to start Christmas knitting - maybe..... next week.)

Snippets

June is a crazy month, with far too many endings and beginnings, and this year even more so.  The Outlook calendar bristles with overlap warnings and deadlines, and emotion lurches this way and that behind an endless train of Significant Events.  Inevitably, I suppose, primary school plague had one last hurrah before the petri dish disperses for summer, and I spent much of this week lying in a dark bedroom popping pills and cursing the lack of productivity. 

I'm still a bit fuzzy, but here's what we did last night:

 

Kindergarten graduation.  Not a contrived circus of "achievements", but rather the celebration of a cohort of infinitely precious and unique little people launched on their journey towards adulthood. The kindergarten teacher, besides being phenomenal at what she does, is also a talented photographer, and each year puts together a DVD, set to music, of candid photos taken over the course of kindergarten. Somehow it puts not just my own child, but his whole little community into perspective; distills the wonder of being human and real and unique out from the noisy, messy, naughty chaos that too easily obscures our ability to truly see children.  Profound stuff.

Luminous Grey Guinevere

A bit sentimental, perhaps, and I wasn't sure at first whether this would work, but I took a close look at the photos and was not disappointed:

 

 

Just look at all those hues.  So I did it - layers and layers of delicate colour... and while no one hue can be distinctly identified in the final yarn, the combined effect is simply luminous.

Merino laceweight:

 

Summit Sock:

 

Essential Merino fingering:

 

Bluefaced Bliss:

 

Merino-Silk:

 

BFL Sport:

Essential Merino worsted:

 

Bluefaced Bliss worsted:

 

Essential Merino Aran:

 

Here's what it looked like in pure reeled silk (sold, but I can't resist showing you...)

 

Gairbraid Guinevere: 2001-2009

Guinevere (or Winnie, as we called her), was a purebred Irish Wolfhound.  I've already talked about the sad and sudden circumstances of her demise.... so let's talk about her life.

Like so many of her breed, she was a homebody - devoted to her family and familiar routines, wary of strangers, suspicious of change. 

She joined us when our first child was just 8 months old, and grew to be a faithful and gentle companion to them.  Although she had little use for unfamiliar adults, she was always pleased to be mobbed and fussed over by young children.

 

Once her beloved doggy mentor Lightning passed on, Winnie's absolute best friend and companion was the Cat.

 

They hung out together on lazy afternoons - in latter years, neither wanted to go out unless the other came along.  They washed each other's ears, though as Winnie's tongue was the size of Basil's head, he would emerge from his turn soaked and sticky... but purring madly.  Basil established himself as boss early in her puppyhood, and occasionally when the mood struck him, would lurk evilly on the countertop at the choke point separating Winnie from her food dish.  It was quite a sight to see a 165 lb dog quaking and whimpering in fear of being swatted by the cat.  He got his comeuppance not long before she died though - Winnie made a mad dash for the kitchen, Basil reached out to smack her backside... and got his claws caught in her long winter coat.  He spent several inglorious moments bouncing off her heaving buttocks before managing to extricate himself.

Winnie prefered to spend much of her day, especially in latter years, hanging out in companionable silence, but when she got the urge to be adored, there was no refusing her. That enormous head would appear in your lap... or face, breathing heavily, tail wagging furiously, and there was nothing for it but to cuddle and fawn over her until she was satisfied. 

Early attempts to turn her into a running companion came to naught - she would slow to a walk after a couple of blocks, and if I persisted, finally flop down on the sidewalk or trail and refuse to get up.  Since she outweighed me by a considerable margin, there wasn't much recourse.  We had her checked for orthopedic issues, but she was perfectly healthy, and as soon as I gave up and turned around, she'd leap to her feet and sprint happily for home. Family walks were a different matter, her only concern being if there was a distance between us and she had to choose whom to keep in safe proximity.

 

She was a magnificent creature, and a loving and beloved part of our family.  She is sorely missed.

Surfacing

I didn't mean to be away for quite that long, but I was feeling tired and heavy and overwhelmed even before the little storm of suckiness, and it seemed as good a reason as any to just drop out for a while. I'm still putting together Winnie's eulogy, but if I don't start with a different post, I'll have to hide out even longer because it feels too big to start with.  I do want to say how much I appreciate all the kind words of comfort and condolence, and how much it means to have those messages of not-alone-ness coming in, even when I don't have a whole lot of energy to put back out into the world.

There have been some good things in all of this. On the one hand, I've never been a huge fan of the "everything happens for a reason/is a gift/has a silver lining" set of platitudes, because they seem far too tidily dismissive of the raw, messy process that is sorrow and loss. (I am profoundly grateful that nobody tried to make me do that, either - just being caring and present in the sad place is a lovely gift.) On the other hand, I do think that a determined perspective of balance and optimism is vital to avoid the downward spiral that can be so easily engendered by "everything is going wrong" thinking.  So here goes:

1. Our doggy was well past the average life expectancy of a Wolfhound, but in good health and just starting to show signs of slowing down.  She developed gastric torsion very suddenly on a lazy afternoon, with no apparent predisposing factors (other than her breed), and despite being immediately rushed to the vet, was rapidly going into shock and stood no real chance of surviving the massive surgical procedure that would have been required to reverse the condition.  The suddenness of the loss was shocking, but the truth is, a long slow decline for a dog of that size would have been far more painful and awful, both for her and for us.  You can carry a smaller dog around when it gets arthritic, and mop up occasional incontinence without much fuss - that's a whole other ball game with a giant breed. Doesn't diminish our feeling of being sucker punched, but it was perhaps not the worst way to go (though we could do without the hundreds of dollars in vet bills.)
2. The computer issue was finally sorted out by an independent consultant in five minutes flat, and we now have a heightened awareness and skepticism of corporate "support".  Joanne's suspicions were confirmed by the consultant - "run through a couple of formulaic fixes and then wipe the hard drive" has far more to do with planned obsolescence than supporting the customer.  So.... no harm done in the end, and much learned.
3. Vacuum technology has improved considerably since 1991. There's a frightening quantity of hitherto invisible stuff coming up out of the carpets, and the see-through bagless collecting system is not only entertaining, but facilitates the recovery of Playmobil battle-axes after the fact.

There you go. Finances have reverted from "holding our own" back to "scary and stressful", but who's haven't, eh?

Quick Note Re: Suckiness

Our computer decided on Friday not to recognize our internet provider, which is why we've been uncommunicative for a couple of days.  After countless hours on the phone to call centres in India, it looks like wiping the hard drive and starting fresh is our only option.  Hopefully it won't be much longer, but if it is, I will be popping down to the nearest hotel daily to check for orders and critical emails - I'll save non-urgent replies for after things are restored (just so's you know I'm not ignoring you, just not wanting to overuse the generosity of others).

In other suckiness, our beloved family dog passed away suddenly and expensively on Thursday afternoon.... she deserves a proper eulogy, but that will have to wait until I can access my own hard drive. We are now dogless for the first time in 17 years, and feeling awfully empty.

I take some heart in the fact that the vacuum cleaner exploded yesterday, which is three things and therefore we are most certainly done with this run of suckiness.