All For Babies

T'day wasn't my best day ever, some obscure crap with family loused things up right outta the gate, so I'm going to try not to whine, but I'm not making any promises about swearing or ranting.

My son, at two and a half, has been everywhere I've been since he was born. Well, since before he was born, but that's a personal matter. In that time I've learned to read the signs of kid friendly folks and not-so-friendly folks. The little guy has been oblivious thus far, and I hope it stays that way for good long while.

Toddlers, being the curious little sponges they are, develop a quick sense for how to entertain themselves in a store that doesn't contain actual "toys". My son, like any normal kid, is checking for interesting items, which might or might not be glass, pointy, dry clean only, or expensive. He has a special affinity for running, and loops (around racks, shelves, aisles) are like an open invitation. None of this is to say that he's destructive or inconsiderate. Quite the opposite, in fact. To my knowledge, he hasn't broken anything or permanently damaged a display in a single store. We don't walk out with things that aren't ours and we clean up our messes.

My son is the dearest thing in the world to me, and I like having his constant company. So you can imagine how I feel when someone in a shop says and does things to make it clear he isn't a welcome addition, or that if we're there together I can't possibly be a serious customer. Disgusted, insulted and annoyed are three words that come quickly to mind just now.

I love knitting, and I love yarn. I write a frakking blog about my love of fuzz. Yarn shops are first on my list of places to visit for fun. When I visit my BF's mom, I know where to go for yarn. When I visit Seattle, or Raleigh, Chapel Hill or Asheville, NC, I know where to go for yarn. Heck, if I visited New York, or Boston, or dozens of other places, I'd know where to shop for yarn by asking my blogging pals or reading around online. And I have been to at least half of the LYS's in the Portland area.

And in no less than three of them we've gotten treated like we had sticky chocolate fingers and a funny smell about us.

Today, it was implied that my son was going to break the Pyrex needles. That he was going to walk out with the cute little knitted animals. That he wasn't being careful enough with the woolly creations and the merchandise. That he, and I, were basically not trustworthy.

I don't imagine that all children are at their best every time they go into a store. I'm sure things have happened. But I also know my child very, very well, and I do not like to see him treated as if he as very little going on between his ears. Children do what we expect of them, and that is the bottom line whether or not you're their parent, friend, relative, or a perfect stranger.

My son is a fairly bright guy, and he's very social, so I'm sure there will come a day soon when he is hurt by the way someone treats him whom he is not acquainted with. As it's my job to protect him from that while I have the chance, you can bet I won't take him anywhere near those places he isn't treated as a valued customer. If that means an LYS drops from my list, oh well.

I've discovered that I believe children to be a gift, even if they aren't mine. That doesn't make it okay to parent them without boundaries and expectations. But it should be true for us culturally as well as personally. I wish I knew how to make it so.

Oh yeah, and where do you think future generations of knitters are going to come from?

BTT: Desperation

Booking Through Thursday's question: what's the most desperate thing you've ever read because it was the only thing available, and was it worth your while?

If you've had a baby, you know just how boring being a pregnant woman waiting for a quick weigh-in and brief face-to-face with an OB or midwife can be. The magazines and such don't change much, and if your doctor's office is as busy as mine was, you're waiting for the PA, then waiting for the ultrasound tech, then waiting for the midwife. Simply put, I wasted hours of my life in a doctor's office.

Pregnancy brain isn't a good thing when trying to remember to bring a book or a project to the check-up. There were times when I was rereading the birth control minutiae of an add for the sixth or seventh or twentieth time. It was ghastly. I was reading labels and price tags on plants and pots outside the windows. I was reading the backs of other people's books from across the room.

Of course, there were times when first-trimester nausea prevented me from focusing on much of anything because it made me sicker. At that point I got really familiar with the details of every painting in the waiting rooms.

Was is worth it? Well, my son is pretty fantastic, so there's the up-side of the story. But I certainly wouldn't choose that doctor's office unless under duress. I may have read a few things in the various "parenting" magazines that have been helpful, though I couldn't recall exact details.



(Okay, can you tell I wasn't a "glowing" pregnant lady?)

Rockin'

Holy wow. Sharon actually thinks I rock! Thanks, dude! Now here are some folks that deserve the same wonderful treatment.

Gabriella has this wonderful sense of color that really compliments her design and pattern choices. The artistic quality of her blog makes it a lot of fun to look at and partly inspired me in my own choices.

Gloriana knits, sews, and teaches Shakespeare to universtiy students. I'm sorry, but what could be cooler than that? I can't decide if I envy her crafting skills or her literary prowess more.

Brynne is another multi-talented supergal. She's pretty handy with the sticks and the sewing apparatus, and while she speaks with grace and eloquence about her crafts, she also raises two wonderful and sweet little boys. And they're already planning for more offspring. That's a full plate, folks.

Rachel doesn't do fuzz, but she does funny combined with thoughtful really, really well. I've been reading her blog longer than any other, with maybe the exception of the Panopticon, and she has never failed to keep me interested. The way she writes her son's intriguing and sweet adventures and developmental progression makes me feel a little less alone in the parenting wilderness.

Ysolda - what a killer name! - designs knitting patterns that...words can't describe. Watching her creative genius is like glimpsing the edge of something enormous and incomprehensible. And utterly fantastic.

I have to say that this award "meme" is cool opportunity to honor some folks that really deserve it. Pass it along if you read.

Monday Doldrums

As things have turned out, knitting isn't the source of my repetitive use issues. Work is. Specifically, gift wrapping. How do I know? I didn't have to be at work four days in a row, and by Wednesday I was at a new knit night with the log cabin in reds and browns. I finished a whole strip that night. Over the weekend, I finished the above socks, though the darker one was 3/4 finished anyway. It's Wildfoote in Vinca Minor with a solid Lorna's Laces I've long since lost the ball band for. The other is a yarn I wanted to test for socks: Telemark by Knit Picks. But more about that later. Sunday I worked a full eight-hour day which included gift wrapping 40 Riedel glasses (7 boxes!). Today? I hurt again. Drat.

About those Knit Picks socks. Telemark is interesting because it's a tightly spun sport weight (100% wool), so there's only 103 yards to 50g, whereas the analogous worsted is 110 yard/50g. The texture is very different - less spongy and airy. I chose the Delphinium (purple, anyone) and bought three skeins. I just did a very straightforward 2x2 rib on size three needles with an eye of patridge heel and a quick redux toe (SPM's "peasant toe"). I've intended them for hiking socks or comfy 'round-the-house numbers. One took me a couple days (and a skein and a quarter) rather than a week and change. My conclusion? If they wash up soft, they'll be fantastic quick-fix FO's. AKA, gifts or stocking stuffers.

My son has a thing for bandaids, and yesterday, he came up with this idea on his own: we'd all bonked our heads and needed to feel better. He was very proud. Cute as could be, too. Aren't we the dorkiest people you've ever seen?

BTT: School days

School Days, Golden Rule Days(?)

1. Do you have any old school books? Did you keep yours from college? Old textbooks from garage sales? Old workbooks from classes gone by?

2. How about your old notes, exams, papers? Do you save them? Or have they long since gone to the great Locker-in-the-sky?

Of course I have old school books. While I doubt I have anything from high school (bo-ring), I have quite a few old biology and chemistry texts, as well as every (freakin') novel or text I read for my English degree. There's also a smattering of French and Psychology hanging 'round here somewhere. I have been tempted by other people's textbooks, but in the end I tend to realize they won't have as much meaning for me.

I've saved all my notes and things from my English classes because it will come in very helpful if I ever have to demostrate what a class was about for another institution. My other motivation is to have that stuff around to look back on when I'm preparing for graduate school. Ultimately, I think all that stuff could be helpful if I decide to be an independent scholar. Really, has anyone done the math lately on how much it takes to earn a PhD in English in comparison to how much we get paid? Ouch.

BTT: Dessert First

Today is all about playing catch-up and ignoring my painful left extremity. Sooooo...last Thursday first.

Dessert First
1. Do you cheat and peek ahead at the end of your books? Or do you resolutely read in sequence, as the author intended?

2. And, if you don’t peek, do you ever feel tempted?

No, not really. I don't know what you all are reading, but if I skip ahead and find out what happens in the end, I'm more confused because of all the pieces I missed that lead up to that ending. I love that moment when the last page has just been read, the back flap closed. Just sitting there, savoring the last moments when things came together (and hopefully ended well) can only be diminished for me if spoiled by too much knowledge.

Tempted? Only when what I'm reading is very, very boring.

FO: The Saga of the K/H

There they are, the actual FO on their intended legs but minus the kilt because it hasn't been bought yet. Aren't those fabulous calves just asking to be shown off?

Way back in February, I had this bright idea. I could give my husband a Utilikilt (feel free to giggle at the propoganda) for his birthday, and knit a pair of kilt hose to go with. I consulted the digital oracle for patterns, and was taken by this. Those cables were my undoing in so many ways. And you realize this project was originally an excuse to go to my favorite yarn store and buy yarn, don't you.

Next stop, LYS. When I stopped in that fateful day, I had all kinds of ideas but no clues. Theresa was a genius at helping me with yardage, needle sizes and gauge. But there isn't a person at Knit Purl who hasn't been helpful and genuinely nice. (And I'm not just saying that because they might be reading!) I walked out with five skeins of Lamb's Pride Worsted in Aran and size three DPN's, though I still had no comprehension of the scope of the project ahead of me.

At home, I hid the bag of yarn and the pattern. The thinking here was that I was going to make the k/h a total surprise. However, knitting on this project only when hubbo was work turned out to be a pipe dream. There was just too much to do. The pattern is toe-up on circulars (not my cuppa), so the first task was adapting and getting gauge for size threes. Theresa, we, okay you, were spot on. You are officially my scientific consultant for knitting projects. I cast on and frogged twice before really catching on to the proper set-up. Having never knit cables, I hadn't realized just how many stitches they could suck up. Lesson #1. Between February and the beginning of April I managed only to complete the first cuff.

As the birthdate quickly approached I found that it was time for a change of plan. First, knit in front of the husband. This involved a couple of large lies about the project. The first k/h sped toward the ankle, and it also became a sweater sleeve (in name only). By this time I'd given over the pattern for winging it. The calf shaping and ankle redux are very different from John's version, and I wish I had charted them before knitting up. Lesson #2.

Numero Uno went back into hiding after the heel flap because I couldn't think of a feasible lie to explain toe redux on a sweater sleeve. I was ecstatic to be halfway there, but resigned to the fact that six weeks wouldn't be enough to get through Numero Dos. I cast on and put aside all my other projects in the hope that I could at least finish the cuff by the necessary date.

Somewhere back in the middle of the first k/h, I must've acquired some brains because I actually made a plan and wrote out the calf and ankle shaping details before starting them. Sadly, this means that the pair are not nearly twins - more like cousins. Well, to make a long story palatably shorter, I managed to knit all the way through my notes with perfect shaping and no frogging, and bound off the second hose two days before the birthday.

There was one thing needing a correction, though. The cuff of the first didn't match the second because I started at the wrong row of the cable repeat. I tried to unravel starting at the cast-on, but when that failed utterly I just plain cut off the offending rows. Then I picked up and knit back down through to the top, cast off, and promptly asked my husband when he wanted his present. Lesson #3 is that casting off is much tighter than casting on. Can you guess which is the first sock in the picture?

He tried them on for the first time about an hour before the clock actually rolled over to his birthdate, and miraculously, they fit to a tee. And best of all, he was totally surprised.