Japanese Garden

We all made it back from Portland, OR without losing anything but our toothpaste! Not having flown in "a while", we didn't realize that some common sundries had become taboo for carry-ons. (My circular bamboo knitting needles went through without question, by the way, though I found flying too distracting for lace knitting. I spent the whole long flight watching the topography change beneath me, instead.) The first place we visited in our destination city was the gorgeous Japanese Garden. It blows the socks off Shaw's Japanese Garden here in St. Louis, probably because the climate of Portland is a gardener's paradise: lots of moisture and no wildly fluctuating extremes of temperature. The cherry trees were flowering, and it was all just plain old gorgeous. That visit set the tone for the trip. We had sushi for lunch, and then I went to a yarn shop and bought lots of Noro Japanese yarn. Which I could have purchased in St. Louis! The yarn shops up there were nice, as most yarn shops are, but no better than our local Knitorious or Weaving Department at Myers House. I would become even more addicted to knitting if I lived in the Northwest because it's grey, grey, grey, and colorful yarns are practically the only antidote to the gloom, besides coffee and flowers!

Belly Up

Tomorrow I leave for Portland, OR to raid the yarn and junk shops there, and eat fresh seafood for every meal. It rains a lot in Portland, so it's sort of an odd destination to choose when trying to shed the winter doldrums, but I'm looking forward to seeing an old friend and getting the hell out of the Midwest for the first time in way too long. Our blue midget is boarding with my folks, who are under strict orders to rub her belly every 15 minutes, and to not feed her too much. I'm concerned about that last part. She's such a good beggar, and will use every cute pet trick in the book to get another morsel. I know I'll be worrying about her, but still, doggies are much lower on the worry meter than children, because you know they'll never end up stewing meth in the shed, and so forth unto jail. But it will be fun despite the separation anxiety. I'm even taking my camera to snap the legendary Northwest knitting shops. Bo-rrrr-inng! But that's what vacation photos are supposed to be, right? Next blog post: April Fool's Day!

Afghan Plan

I found a pile of old pattern books at the Salvation Army recently, just when I've been feeling the urge to knit my first afghan. I've postponed this project despite our living room's desperate need for something snuggly because afghans seem like the most boring thing on earth to knit, especially if made in the earth tones that will look best with our furniture. So I'm searching for an interesting (but non-frustrating) pattern stitch and yarn with a subtle kick of color to help my flea-like attention span stay the course. The search is always the fun part! I know I can do it, because I just knit four lace shawls. If I had sewn these together instead of giving them away, I would have had a nice soft lap robe.

Spring Bonnet

This lady knows how to carry a hat. The snood adds dash, the flowers add zing, and the haughty expression allows her to wear the silly thing wherever on Earth she wants to, from the 7-11 to a lawn party to the Grand Ole Opry.

Spring Flowers

This basket is made of safety pins! You may be able to discern them in the photo beneath the "pearls," if you squint. I found it in a pile of shoelaces at the Salvation Army. Keeping your eyeballs peeled pays. Soon actual nonplastic flowers will start to bloom, the sunshine says so. All this glorious weather is glorious, but now I have no excuse not to drive my truck to the municipal compost heap and start doing some serious shoveling. My shoulders ache just thinking about it, but gardening is not for weak sisters!

Two Color Peacock Feather Stole

Recently I finished this stole after a hiatus of 6 months. I'll never let something sit so long again: the gauge on the first half is completely different from the gauge of the second half, although I used the same needles and yarn on both halves. But in the intervening months I began purling the way I'm supposed to, i.e. over not under, because I finally figured out that the under throw was screwing up my ktogs, which matters when one knits lace. I blocked the hell out of the first half, but it's still all shrivelly compared to the second half. So I won't be giving this one away. I'll wear it myself, and even cherish it. It taught me four important knitting truths: gauge changes when you do, lace is fun and easy, stitch orientation matters, and grafting isn't hard if you follow the right set of instructions. (I used the ones in the back of Stitch 'n' Bitch Nation.)

Nap Time

Grey cats are traditionalists, as my guys Brother (left) and Bigfoot (right) here demonstrate as they prepare for a nap on an ancient crocheted Granny Square afghan (in pure wool) which I found years ago at the Gardenville Senior Center thrift shop in South St. Louis at the end of Kingshighway. This shop, housed in an old school which had been converted into a convenient place for the neighborhood elders to congregate, was open once a week. The building boasted a giant birdcage cackling with macaws and parakeets, coffee makers plugged in everywhere, a free lending library full of dog-eared paperbacks and craft encyclopedias, and a mini Post Office. I found a million treasures here, everything from nickel wave clips to garishly upholstered armchairs. The city has subsequently reclaimed the school for some sort of educational purpose and kicked all the old timers — and their junk — out to the curb. Our loss.

Flower Hair

Who needs hair when you can wear flowers?

Nickel and Dime

I'm old enough to remember Ben Franklin dimestores before they became purveyors of Crap, oh, I mean Crafts. And this caddy, probably Made In Japan, is just the sort of thing they used to sell there, along with parakeet cages, Click-Clacks (this was in the 70s, The Decade of Safety Last, so small children wielding glass numchuks in the playground was A-OK), wax lips, and Sweetarts so big you could wing them like discuses. This is an ultra-archaic item, because who pays bills any way but electronically these days?