Immersion Knitting

When I taught composition, all instructors were required to have one-on-one conferences with each student at least once a semester.  We dreaded conferences because the process took so much time. One semester I had 90 students. At 15 minutes with each one, it took 22.5 hours to see them all.

The other problem was that conversations with that many college freshmen causes mush-brain. Every instructor had coping mechanisms to stave off the effects of mush-brain. For instance, I got really good at reading their hand-writing upside down, as I read the oddities in their essays aloud, “This sentence,” I would say pointing to the sentence, ” ‘My mother’s cooking supports many aspects,’ is not exactly what you mean.”

An office mate had an even better method. He used a typewriter to fill a sheet of paper with punctuation marks, one of commas, one of semi-colons, etc. Then he cut them into confetti, and put the little bits of paper into jars on his desk. During conferences he would say things like, “Your essays have too many run-on sentences. You need help with periods,” and then he would sprinkle them with periods. The student would sit there, with little bits of paper in his hair, and stuck to his sweatshirt, just staring at him. He stared back. Eventually, the student would leave.

I went to the Sock Yarn Tasting at Hill Country Weavers a couple of weeks ago. I got to pet a lot of sock yarn. I learned about their fibers, twist, and color. I ate sandwiches that looked like feet! But best of all, I came home with samples (tastes) of about eleven different sock yarns, each one tagged with the yarn’s name and characteristics.

I felt like my colleague’s student, just sitting there, absorbing sock yarn.

There has been knitting

Constant readers may not believe it, but knitting has occurred here at Chez Ravell’d Sleeve. In fact here are some finished objects for your perusal.

This pair is Riding on the Metro from Wendy D. Johnson’s book, Socks from the Toe Up.

This pair is the Lacy Rib also from Wendy’s book.

I’ve also started knitting squares for a Barn Raising Blanket from Knitalong.

And finally there are these socks from Cookie’s book Sock Innovation. I lurve them.

Recognize the shapely legs? They belong to The Husband.

Cold Shoulders

I grew up with central air conditioning. We moved to North Texas in the late ’60s and our ranch-style house had it. The schools had it. The grocery stores, shopping malls, and movie theaters had it. Even our cars had it. Outside it was 100-degrees, but inside it was 68. We stayed cool in the summers.

This changed the first summer I spent in Manhattan, Kansas. The house I rented didn’t have air conditioning, which wasn’t a problem in the fall and winter. But summer was different. It was hot and humid, as only mid-Western summers can be. I was a poor student and couldn’t afford a window unit or the electric bill. So I had fans going all the time. The windows were always open. Sometimes I slept on the floor downstairs instead of my upstairs bedroom. When it got too much, I went to a movie.

I adapted to the heat. I took cool showers, and drank cool water, not icy sodas. I cut my hair short. I learned the value of shade and a breeze. I ate salads and other things that didn’t need cooking. I spent four years in Kansas with no AC, and each summer was easier.

Then I moved back to Texas. Back to central air everywhere.  I was cold. In the summer when the offices and stores and malls were cooled to 68-degrees, I was cold everywhere I went. This was Dallas in the ’80s, and I wore pantyhose and pumps to work. Most days my hands were too cold to type, which was a problem as I was a technical writer. On my lunch hour, I’d stand in the hottest place I could find — the plexiglass tube that linked the building to the parking garage, until my fingers were pink again.

I still get very cold in air conditioned buildings. In the summer I dress for the indoors, so I’m often the only one wearing jeans at the HEB in August. But sometimes I forget, and go to a movie in a dress or shorts. I need a wrap that I can keep in my car. Not a lacy thing that needs looking after, but something sturdy, indestructible, big, but pretty too. And not too heavy.

After searching on Ravelry, I found Silk Kerchief. It seemed to meet all my criteria, except it called for Silk Garden Sock Yarn, and I’m not a big fan of Noro yarn. But then Hill Country Weavers had Noro on sale for June’s First Thursday Sale. My friend Susan was working, and she helped me pick out the colorways. It turned out perfect. It’s garter stitch so it’s not fussy. The colors are gorgeous together. After washing it’s soft with a good drape. And it’s lighter than it looks.

When I showed it to my friend Karen, who is a new, but intrepid knitter, she had to make one. It was a good thing that we were in Hill Country, standing by the Silk Garden Sock, or she would had to drop everything to go there.

Sometimes, knitting is like that.

Little Foxes

I live in a pretty typical suburban neighborhood.

We have a fenced in back yard. It’s pretty big compared to some back yards, but not for this subdivision. We don’t have much lawn — it’s generally a bit wild for suburbia.

We’ve had our share of stray cats in the back yard and we feed them. The cat food attracts other animals like squirrels, birds, possums and raccoons. They all seem to live in harmony.

Very early one morning last week, The Husband called to me from the kitchen, “Are you awake? Come here and see something in the back yard.” I stumbled down the stairs and looked out into the still gloomy darkness of 5AM. “What?” I said, “What do you see?” Then I saw some movement in the dark, something darting around. The cats were at our feet, looking out the glass door too. They saw something and started making that noise that we call, I want to Eat You. Then they got quiet and hunkered down, making themselves small, so whatever was out there couldn’t see them.

As it got lighter, we saw a family of grey foxes cavorting in the back yard. Two small ones, about the size of cats, and two adults, a male and female. They seemed so at ease with the surroundings that it was probably not their first visit. The Husband and I watched as little ones chased each other, and tumbled around on the grass. The adults watched them from the deck. At almost full light, the female and the small ones disappeared under the deck, but the male stood guard for a while longer, and then also disappeared.

He’s a handsome beastie.

We’ve seen them most mornings since then. And they disappear in the same order with the male going last. We wonder what they eat and where they go during the day. But mostly we’re amazed that these wild animals have adopted us.

More backyard fox photos here.

2 + 2 = 4

An old friend of mine used to say that whenever she bought a new album (and yes, this is before CDs), it made her entire music collection sound a bit different. I feel that way about knitting books. When I get a new knitting book, the yarn in my stash looks a bit different.

I don’t have a big stash, although The Husband might not agree. But I can’t decide on a sweater pattern, and go into a closet and retrieve the yarn needed. With the exception of lace weight and sock yarn. The reason is pretty easy. You only need one or two skeins of both to complete a project.

The day I came home with Wendy’s book, “Socks from the Toe Up: Essential Techniques and Patterns from Wendy Knits” (Wendy D. Johnson), I looked briefly through my sock yarn stash, and chose the yarn randomly, probably because it was the brightest one. When that I finished that pair, I chose another skein, this time in a solid blue that has been there a while. It’s becoming this one:

That’s two pairs knitted from stash. To replenish the stash, I added two color ways of Lorna’s Laces.

Wendy Knits Sunrise

Amy’s Vintage Office

Then First Thursday rolled around, and Noro was on sale at Hill Country Weavers. Some came home with me.