Organization for the Nation

Despite having been the teacher's pet many a time and graduating with honours, I despised school.  I was the one child who counted down the days until summer vacation, (do you want the count with or without weekends?) and then counted down the remaining days of summer vacation with dread in my heart.  Just thinking about Labour Day weekend elicited palpitations in my young chest.

Every single one of my first-day-back-to-school photos shows me red-eyed and sniffling, wiping the snot across my face while I waited for the school bus.  I can only imagine my mother, walking back to the house, confoundedly shaking her head and wondering what she did wrong to have been burdened by such an anti-social and non-conformist progeny.

One slogan from my skool daze remains indelibly etched into my gray matter:  Sanitation for the Nation.  That's what the toilet paper holders said in every school I have ever attended, and it's stayed with me to this day.  G. H. Wood. was a supplier of toilet paper, hand paper, and a variety of institutional sundry goods, especially within our school jurisdiction.  The logo could be found everywhere if one was observant enough.

It goes without saying that pretty much any word ending in -ation makes me think of G. H. Wood and Co. and their "Sanitation for the Nation" catchphrase.  Procrastination for the Nation - that's one of my favorites.  Another one is Organization for the Nation.  Having spent exactly half of my lifetime working in some administrative capacity or another, organizing is something I take pride in.  Being able to find the receipt for a 13-year old toaster is a skill (!), and implementing cohesive systems that even alphabetically-challenged coworkers can use efficiently is my forté.

One thing I didn't take pride in was my jumbled recipe file.  Rather, files, folders and binder.  Since the advent of the internet, I have so many favorite cooking sites (Taste Spotting, anyone?) and I have printed up so many recipes that I hardly use my cookbooks anymore.  Organizing all those recipes was my proverbial Waterloo, however.  I tried a binder with a handy A- to Z- index.  Turns out I filed so much stuff under C- (cakes, cookies and chicken anyone?) that looking for the Chicken Marsala recipe caused me to salivate over things like Blondies (should that have been under B?), and swoon over Carrot Cake.  My system lacked a certain efficiency, but I knew where everything was, and pulling the files out and reminiscing about tried-and-true recipes is a task I quite enjoyed, thankyouverymuch.

But I've been on an organizational bender these days.  With our on-going renovations upstairs, we've had to store lots of things, and cull clothing, books and knick-knacks.  The other day I went through the bedroom and ended up with a trunk-full of clothing to be donated to Hudson's community health care society.  I sorted through old books, and many of them ended up in the handy bin at our neighbouring War Memorial Library.  Household goods can be dropped off at the War Memorial Library as well, and are sold on Saturday mornings from 10-12.  Going into "The Bunker", as the basement is affectionately known, requires restraint.  The last time I went, I had to control myself from buying a tiny red table-top piano.  And I don't even play piano.  Go figure.

But back to the recipes.  The other day, I spotted a clear plastic accordion folder at my grocery store.  It was sturdy, it could be wiped clean, and my wheels started to turn.  I picked it up for $5.  If it didn't work for my recipes, it would work for my knitting patterns (again, blame the internet for enabling us knitters).

It took me a while to create my headings, trying to maximize the use of the 24 folders in an efficient matter.  Where do I file my Osso Bucco recipe?  What about my slowcooker recipes?  And those handy little booklets from Carnation Milk and Robin Hood Flour and the BC Salmon Fishing Council?   I needed a cohesive and intuitive system, and wanted to utilize the folder to its full capacity.  With a few Post-it notes and dry-runs under my belt,  I was confident enough to make permanent folder names with my beloved P-touch labeller.

Oh bliss:

I am enjoying my new filing system more than you can imagine.

Now, what's for dinner again?

Rams and Yowes - A Progress Report

Sad but true, I am ashamed to admit that I fell out of love with my Rams and Yowes project.  This is the first time I've knit with Shetland wool, and if I were smart enough (which obviously, I'm not), I would have made a swatch and blocked it before launching into this project.  But I'm not interested in getting gauge - it's a blanket, after all - but what swatching would have done was still the nagging thoughts in the back of my mind that my knitting wasn't even enough.

When I looked at photos of blankets-in-progress on-line, I decided I must have been doing something wrong.  This blanket surely wouldn't block out perfectly, and with every passing row, my doubts and fears grew thanks to my very active imagination.

As projects are sometimes wont to do, it got put in its dedicated clear zippered bag, and placed on top of the dryer, not quite out of sight, but there as a mocking reminder of my knitterly short-comings.  Every time I went into the laundry room and did a load of laundry, there it sat, unrequited and unfulfilled.  It was the "nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah-nyah" of the wooly world.  And it was in the laundry room that my stroke of genius (I'm being kind, it was more of a lucid moment) came to me.  I'd just purchased a new state-of-the-art pressure steam iron.  A real steam iron - let me tell you - this thing ain't messing around.  And using said steam iron, I steamed my uneven stitches, and watched in joy and disbelief as each stitch relaxed under the steam's spell.  Suddenly, the knitting evened out, and I did a little jig.  If this were a relationship, well, we're back on again, as the saying goes.

So I'm giving the Rams and Yowes full attention these days, now that it's back on the front burner and the heat's turned up to high.  Since the above photo was taken, I've managed to finish the Rams in the middle section, and start in on the Yowes which mirror the opposite end.  I'm starting my third section of Yowes, so the end is in sight.  With a few more days of love, we'll be ready to steek and start the border, which involves picking up 700 plus stitches along all four sides.  I'll be sure to let you know how that goes.

On Lilac and Lopi

The lilac is in full-bloom as evidenced by the above, and our weather has been balmy and sunny, reaching a high of 31C or 88F on Monday, May 21.

We've got all sorts of lilac growing all over, most of it where we don't exactly want it, but when they're in full bloom, we forgive them their location, and enjoy their heady scent and beautiful blooms.

These were all started from seed by a previous owner, so bonus points there, but eventually we're going to have to relocate some, and hopefully they'll take in their new location.  The ones above aren't perfectly white, but have a light, light lilac tinge to the blossoms before they open.  They are superbly beautiful.  This year I picked a few vases' worth, and the smell in the house was unbelievable.  It's just a shame they don't keep well as cut flowers.

Besides the great weather we've been enjoying, last Monday was a holiday, so all the better!  It gave me the opportunity to sit under our new steel-blue umbrella and enjoy its lovely cast while knitting a long-forgotten UFO.

I started this Védis Jónsdóttir design called Nú last October or November, right after I received my big batch of Lopi from Iceland.  It was supposed to be a quick knit - maybe a day or two worth of work - but through a bit of carelessness, I ended up making the wrong size sleeves.

Try as I might, I couldn't get the yoke decreases to work properly since I had 4 extra stitches, and since these decreases form an integral part of the design, I couldn't really fudge a "knit 3 together", although I gave it my best shot.  Bulky yarn is unforgiving like that.  The project was stuffed into a bag, and stuffed into a Rubbermaid bin, and clear out of my consciousness.

So the project languished until Monday morning.  Armed with a free day, sunny skies, and nothing on the agenda,  I sat outside and pulled the yoke back.  For some obscure reason, I had even proactively grafted the underarms already, and once I unpicked my grafted stitches, I could pull the arms back.

Working with 12mm needles is hard work.  The stitches don't flow, instead, they need to be pushed on the needles with coercion, every stitch requiring effort to load it on the needle, knit it, and push it onto the next.  (Note to self:  bulky yarn and fat needles do not a quick project make).

To top things off, I needed to use the dreaded magic loop method of knitting, because I couldn't find 12 mm double pointed needles.  I cannot fathom why anyone would knit this way, unless it's under duress.  Give me my 12 mm double-pointed needles, and no one gets hurt.

But spurred on by a gentle breeze, I had one sleeve knit back up again, in the correct size this time, of that I made doubly sure.  I was on a roll, and I know myself well enough that I needed to take full advantage of my mood, lest this project fall off the radar for another few months.  The next sleeve didn't exactly fly off the needles either, more of a push/knit/push slog-fest, but soon it was done, too.  I joined sleeves to body, and started in on the yoke, and from there on, the finish line was clearly within reach.

At 10:30 PM, with ends woven in, I called it a night.  I just had the underarms to graft, but even that was accomplished during my lunch-time at work the next day.

So, with one less thing in the UFO basket, my knitting resolution for 2012 won't exactly hold, but finishing one more UFO makes me feel infinitely better about the Sweet Georgia CashLuxe Fine yarn I just bought on-line to make a Colour Affection Shawl, known in knitting circles as the Colour Infection Shawl, because it's gone viral as some knitting patterns do.

Sometimes I amaze even myself.  And what I didn't realize, despite the dire remarks all over the website, is that Sweet Georgia is dyed-to-order.  Naturally, I am just chomping at the bit to get my eager little hands on that wool.  But what it's done is buy me some time (4 to 6 weeks?) to finish my Rams and Yowes blanket before my order comes in.  It's back on my radar with a progress report forthcoming.

Resistance is futile.  I will be assimilated. Of this I am sure.

And Now, Time for Some FO's

Ah yes, knitter's speak.  A FO is a Finished Object, the stark contrast to a UFO, or UnFinished Object.

Sometimes, projects enter knitterly black holes, and go from WIPs - Works In Progess - to UFO's.  No one can explain how it happens, but suddenly, something you've been bashing away on non-stop falls from grace, gets put in a bag, and left in the trunk of a car for maybe 2 years...not that that's ever happened to me, no way...

I really tried to knit from my stash this year, and I did a great job until Kate Davies' Rams and Yowes caught my eye.  Well, if that wasn't an impulse purchase, I don't know what is.  I started off fast and furious, made a few mistakes, pulled back a ton of work, and there the project languishes.  I vowed if I knit just 2 rows a day, I'd be done in 2 months' time.  That's not a terrifying commitment, yet it's not happening.  Maybe today, maybe today, is the optimistic battle cry of a rejected project.  After all, when all else fails, there's always hope.  I cling to that like a shipwreck victim clings to driftwood.

I do admit to having a gray mohair pullover in the trunk of the car.  It got cast on in a flurry, and it's nearly completed, and I don't really know what my excuse is for not finishing it.  Maybe it's become a fixture in the car, and seeing it in the trunk warms my heart with potential? I don't know, but what I do know is there should be a specialization in psychology expressly for knitters.  I'd sign up for intense therapy immediately.

On the positive side, Eric's Lopi fits my father like it was made for him.  The sleeve length is perfect, the look is perfect, and my father loves it.  Again, putting in the zipper took a leap of faith:

I've never sewn a zipper into a knitted garment before, ergo the procrastination.  It was fussy, fiddly, I swore, then I swore some more.  But the end result is sublime.  I added the gray decorative tape to hide the steek edge of the sweater, and although this little detail took literally hours of sewing, the effort was worth the outcome.  The inside of the sweater is now clean and properly finished.

Some people might say, "why bother"?  And it's true - why bother?  But then again, that philosophy can be applied to so many things in life.  Just call me a nit-picking over-achiever.  I wear that title with pride, dammit.

To give you an idea, here's a look at the inside before adding the trim:

The devil, she is in the details.  Ask any knitter.

Moving onto other projects.  I started off the year with the Cabled Buttoned Wrap designed by Plymouth Yarn Design Studio.  Inspired by a fellow knitter from our knitter's group, I cast on the exact same project with the exact same yarn and the exact same needles, and should have had the exact same outcome.  Alas.  I knit a lot tighter than dear Maureen, and with that tension, my shawl didn't have the same drape.  Lookie here:

I was disappointed, and wanted to frog the entire thing and knit it again with larger needles.  I thought of blocking it to oblivion and beyond.  In an epiphany, Maureen tried my shawl on, and preferred my tension over hers.  She's shorter and her shawl overwhelmed her.  So, we did a trade.  I took Maureen's shawl, Maureen took my shawl, and both of us wear each others' shawls with pride.  I gave Maureen her buttons back, since she had spent a small ransom on them, and then I dispatched my BFF Elaine to the wool store to find some buttons, because I hadn't had any luck finding something apropos.  This is what Elaine came up with:

Brilliant.  They suit the wrap perfectly, and the organic aspect appeals to my esthetic.  Not to mention, the finish is hand-rubbed and so smooth, just touching them soothes the senses.  I am in love, and this wrap has become my super-binky.  It is so infinitely wearable, I can put it over a thin coat, wear it in the house, at work, it's become a security blanket of sorts.  Although the wool looked bland on the skein, this colour (Drops Alpaca in Denim 8120) is anything but.  Little threads of red and brown interspersed through the wool gives a beautiful depth and neutrality. 

It's classic, it's malleable, and I am in love...

Now.   Sometimes we procrastinate about a project, just because we're not quite happy with what the instructions tell us to do.  I knit this little Lopi purse to match my Lopi Aftur sweater:

This pattern is from Istex and is called Taska.  I added two chart repeats, and ended up with a purse about 9" wide and 10" high.  The instructions called for knitted I-cord straps, and I couldn't bring myself to do it...it seemed chintzy and amateur and just didn't resonate with my inner knitter.

A few weeks ago, I headed over to a new LYS (local yarn store, for those not familiar with knittingese), and came across these beauties:

Ah-ha.  Now I know why I was procrastinating.  Because the universe wanted me to find these beauties.  Once the sticker-shock wore off, I put them on, and bingo!  Purse completed with a minimum of effort, yet maximum effect.  Man, do I love knitting!

Here's a look at the inside.  These handles by Sage Luxury might be expensive (gulp, I'll admit they cost me $55 CAD), but they finish the project off beautifully and are worth the money.  The quality is most definitely there.  So much so, I went back and bought another pair in black...  I'm not sure if I'll keep the dark brown on this purse, or switch them out for the black pair, I suppose it will all depend on what I knit next.

Again, because I'm in love, here's another view:

Can I mention one more time just how much I love the look?  Okay.  I'll shut-up now.  Project complete.  Verdict:  Total Success.

And, now for the pièce de résistance.  I actually finished the BMF.  (Use your imagination - this one I made up, B stands for Black, and the rest I'll let you figure out).

See how crinkled it is?  That's because it was SHOVED in the bottom of my knitting bag, literally scrunched into a little ball that started to work it's way into the corner of the bag, sort of like a terrifyingly huge wad of lint.  I'm not even going to bother washing it - although it might benefit a bit - because wearing it will help ease all those wrinkles out and even out each stitch.  I cannot believe the Black MoFo is donedonedone.

Hallelujah!

So there you have it.  My knitterly friends will know whereof I speak when I say procrastination is a necessary part of the creative process.  The rest of you should be so lucky.

April, So Far

 

 A spell of unseasonably warm weather in mid-March derailed any blogging attempts.  Suddenly, we were able to work outside, take nice long walks in dry fields, free of bugs and stifling heat, and enjoy shedding our winter wardrobe along the way.  It was a renaissance of the finest order.

March also features Eric's birthday, and the honours go to me for opening the party season with a big bash.  It always seems to take me a few days to get the house in order, prep my plan, and let the good times roll.  A good time was had by all, once again, and I drift on the fumes of "hostess with the mostess" for at least a week longer.  Once my light-headedness wears off, it's back to the old grind again.

We've been enjoying lots of bright, sunny days, and although it's not as warm as it was in mid-March by a long shot, Cooper has been motivating me to get off my duff and take long walks in the fields again.  Let's just say I've embraced this beautiful weather as a sign that I'm meant to shed a few post-winter pounds.  So, after dinner, the dog and I head out, making our rounds, some evenings coming back after nightfall, but invigorated by the cool air, the fresh, growing grass, and the chirps of returning birds as we make our way home.  It's the perfect time of year, and even if I need to wear a hat and gloves and long-johns to be comfortable, it's the high-point of my day.  When the sun sets, we turn back and watch the sky as it turns orange and pink and purple, finally making our way home.

Everyone should own at least one Aladdin lamp.  We were lucky this past winter, and didn't have one power failure worth getting the generator out for.  We took the opportunity of Earth Hour to break out the lamp and dust it off, post-photo, I regretfully add.  It's amazing how much light these Aladdin lamps give off, and how much heat as well.  We also have 2 candle chandeliers that we regularly use, one in the kitchen and one in the living room, so the concept of turning off all the lights and basking by the glow of candles is not foreign to us, but we don't give the Aladdin lamp the use it really deserves.  Hopefully, we're good for at least another year.

Full Moon Rising

The full moon rose over the barn this evening, and it's always a sight to behold.

It's too early to ring the "spring has sprung" alarm, but with +12C or about 55F as our high today, I had to wonder why I wore my boots to work this morning.  Time to make a mental note to lose a layer or three.  I was outside a bit this evening, and could hear geese overhead and feel the melting snow under my feet, and breathed a sigh of relief.  The worst of winter is behind us.

Little Schatzie even ventured out the front door today when I came home.  She promptly walked down the path and sat on the steps in front of the patio door and gave me a dirty look that she wanted in again.  Her 18 seconds of fresh air behind her, she bolted into the house as quickly as she could and went to sit down beside wood stove.  It ain't over until Schatzie says it's over.

The spindly pear tree in the above photo held a flock of what I think I've ID'd as Bohemian Waxwings yesterday (as opposed to Cedar Waxwings), based on their call plus the yellow tip of their tail:

The flock consisted of about 40 birds, and it was nice to hear birds chirping as a harbinger of spring, despite the brutal cold as I took the photo.  I think the windchill was around -15C during the day, and by the time I'd fumbled with my gloves and the camera, the flock was on their way.  Cooper might have added to their hasty departure as he circled the tree, looking up at the little chirpers.

On that note, I'm leaving you with a sunset from a few nights ago.  Alas, with the newly denuded vista, sunsets don't hold the same appeal as they once did, but here you go:

I've been grappling with a few philosophical conundrums lately, primarily brought on by the senseless cutting of these neighboring trees, and I'm not quite done with the issue yet.  Philosophically and practically, that is.  The practical will be addressed in trying to lobby various levels of government for better protection of hedgerows and mature trees.

Trying to assimilate the philosophical will be a work in progress, however.

In Like a Lion

This is what greeted me when I pulled open the curtains this morning:

Snow.  Lots of it.

There's just something rude 'n crude about snow stuck to the window.  But there you have it.  Welcome to Montreal in March.  Now you know why I leave the Christmas lights up until now...it's a sanity-saving technique for days like this.

The good news is that neither of us had to work today, so we got to hunker down and keep the home fires burning (or the home fries burning, as I like to jest).

We've had an easy winter so far.  Our accumulation started right before Christmas, so we can really say we've had 9 or 10 weeks of snow so far this winter.  That's a joke by normal standards, and I consider it lucky that we've gotten off so easily.  But that's where March comes in.  It's a wet month, and with temps hovering below freezing, snow is inevitable.  We sometimes get more snow in March than the other months combined.  We've started off March well, having received about 8" or 20 cm today.

Eric left the tractor outside, so if need be, we can dig our way out with the front loader.  As it was, our snow removal contractor came by early in the morning and again in the evening.  This storm was different, though.  All the snow came from the east which is a change of pace for us.  Normally it comes from the west, and we get lots of blowing snow.  Not today.  That means that the end of our driveway was virtually clean, and when the snow plow passed, the snow blew over the field across the street, and not onto our property.  I can't tell you how many times I've come home from work and haven't been able to make it down the driveway.  It's just so disheartening when that happens.

Just for the heck of it, I've zoomed in the following street sign, right from the kitchen window while wearing a bathrobe, during a white-out to boot.  Doesn't get more pathologically lazy and Canadian than that, eh?

Can you make it out?  The top one sports a road on the left side of the sign, with a snowmobile crossing it.  That's to warn us motorists that a speeding skidoo might become a hood ornament if neither of us are paying attention.  And by the looks of the fatalities this year, the Ministry of Transport might want to put a bit more funding into their education program.  Maybe part of the problem is the fact that all bars and pubs are well indicated on the Quebec trail network, which is only 33,000 km long.  That's 22,500 miles of trail, with seemingly every damn establishment with a liquor license clearly marked.  Maybe I'm the only one to see the irony in that, or maybe it's a subversive way of adding a bit of bleach to the gene pool.  The bottom sign shows both a car and skidoo.  That means that both vehicles are supposed to share the road, since the skidoo trail and road are one and the same on this section of the street.

Anyhow, it's just a little curiosity and glimpse into the land of the skidoo.  Apropos for a snowy day.

So there you have it.

Despite March having come in like a roaring lion, we hope the adage proves true, and that it will go out like a docile little frolicking lamb.  I'd like to take the Christmas lights down before Easter.