Seattle

Yes, we went to Seattle. Or, more properly, the greater Seattle area. We left Friday midday. On the way, we stopped at a view point overlooking the Columbia River Gorge, which was rather impressive. In honor of the Yarn Harlot, I took a traveling sock photo:



It's 40 stitches in Cascade 220 for Vern. I managed to get to the end of the heel flap three times on the trip. (Don't knit while sick with a headache. It just doesn't work.) It's now finished, and waiting for its mate to join it in Vern's sock drawer. Oh yes, I was talking about the gorge . . .



This is looking south, I believe. We drove over that bridge to head on toward our destination. I read at an informational sign that there are more than 50 layers of basalt formed by individual lava flows in this area of Washington, with places where an individual flow can be up to 200' thick. Amazing. Scientists believe that before the lava flows, this area was far more moist and fertile, with thriving vegetation and animal life. It's so incredibly barren now . . . although it's still more fertile than most of Nevada, which only grows sage.



There were things actually in bloom out on the volcanic basalt. These daisies, (or, more properly, Compositae blooms), were putting on a cheerful show, and there was even some pale phlox:



The views were amazing . . . sweeping and dramatic. The gorge was carved quickly and violently over a very short time (like a few years) by staggering amounts of fast-moving water.



And we were almost the only ones there. We were joined by a trio of German-speaking folks, who are included for scale here:



The only word they used that I recognized was "autobahn". I had the strangest feeling though, as I listened to them speak. I wanted to open my mouth and have German come out. I felt like there was a switch that just needed to be flipped and I'd understand what they were saying; I'd be able to slip into the current of their conversation and become a part of it. Someday . . . someday I'm going to speak many, many languages, and go to the places where they are used and become a part of the ebb and flow of thought which creates that tide.

Well, we got to town in time to get some great food at I Love Sushi (the shrimp and scallop sushi was especially good, as was the roll we had) in Bellevue, and crash for the night. Speaking of the night, here's what downtown Bellevue looked like:



Looks like a big city, doesn't it? I was sufficiently tired that it looked about that fuzzy. Considering that the shutter speed was down to 1/2 second, and I was holding the camera in a running car, that's a great shot. We stayed in Bellevue at the Courtyard Marriott, (which I highly reccomend, btw), and did a fair bit of driving. The views from our courtyard-side room were kind of neat. The first one sure cured me of any desire to go sit in the hot tub, though.



And I just had to take a picture of this huge black building. The angles and composition were fascinating. (Then again, I love good black and white photography, so the cool factor of this building may be 95% in my own head.)



After sleeping in as long as we could, (no thanks to a rather loud-voiced person in the hallway right outside our door at precisely 8:20am), we drove north to Camano Island to complete the purchase of a kayak for me. On the way out we got to see more of Bellevue in daylight. There were some really interesting things to see out of the hotel windows and along the way.



I counted a total of twelve (yep, that's 12) cranes in downtown Bellevue. They ranged in size considerably, but ten of them were these large, right-angle types. There were only two of the smaller, more traditional tractor-based types. The amount of high-rise construction going on was staggering. Looking out the hallway window nearest our room, we spotted a beautiful mature hemlock:



and then noticed that it had just about engulfed part of an abandoned house:



At least it looks abandoned. In Northern Idaho, though, odds are that there would be someone living in it still. I suppose it's possible someone was living there, since there was a city garbage can visible that looked as though it was of recent vintage, and the tarps weren't completely shredded. I haven't seen camellias as big as the ones on the left of the main wing in a very, very long time. We never got a closer look at the house, but it seemed as though it was once an upscale home. The biggest tragedy is that there's little hope for the hemlock, the camellias, or for the gargantuan evergreen opposite the hemlock in the next photo. Such gorgeous growing things . . . and they'll end up being ripped out by an excavator as the hole for the underground parking garage goes in for whatever building will end up there.



One thing I will say, though . . . Bellevue truly is a belle. It's a very clean, pretty city. (And there's a lot of affluence floating around. You should see the luxury car dealerships right in a row: Porche, BMW, and one other I can't remember. Wow.)

The view from the hotel lounge window was pretty:



as was the lounge:



There was a 24-hour sandwich/salad cafe, and courtesy computers with internet access. (I love Gmail I love Gmail I love Gmail.)

The drive out to Camano Island was just gorgeous. Here's a typical view on either I-90 or 405:



I loved the new green of the deciduous trees, and especially all of the blossoming going on. (And I'm especially tickled by the fact that dogwoods are indigenous to the region.)



Camano was gorgeous, as you can see here: (I'm sensing a theme . . . green growing things everywhere . . . )



And here:



And here:



We didn't stop much for photo ops, so there are a lot of road shots on this trip. (Note to self: take time to stop and photograph the roses.) I really wish that we could have taken some time to stop at Alpacas de la Patagonia, which we passed both coming and going. I would have loved to buy an alpaca fleece, if they would have sold me one. (I also would have loved to stop by Cascade Spindles, but I don't dare dwell on the things that I wanted to do but didn't have time for. There's no doubt in my mind we'll be going back to Western Washington. We both just loved it too much.) Oh, but back to the kayak. Vern is greatly enamored of the idea of the two of us kayaking together on the weekends; therefore I needed a boat. He found one on Craig's List that was an unbelievable deal: a man named John had bought a carbon-fiber kayak at wholesale price from a friend of a friend who worked for Necky, and decided that he absolutely hated it the first time he got in it. (It's a case of an old sea dog not liking a new trick. ;o) Vern went way out into the Sound (just a few feet from John's front door) to try out the Looksha. I could see him grinning, clear as day, from the shore. It's a light, stiff, low-lying kayak that slices cleanly through the water. It was so pretty to watch, and I'm looking forward to putting it in the water sometime soon. ("Soon" would mean after the purchase of a paddle, but let's not get picky, shall we?) I wasn't eager to get wet on that cold and gray part of Saturday, especially with John looking on and talking about how he was just sure that Vern was going to end up in the Sound. As unpracticed as I am at entering and leaving a kayak, I didn't want to try it when I was nervous. Feeling tight while working with a responsive little boat isn't a good idea. (Once again, I didn't have the camera out. I need to add "Hone blogging reflexes" to my exercise routine. Next time will be better, promise.)

On the drive back from Camano we stopped at a Quiznos in Stanwood . . . the first Mom n' Pop Quiznos I've ever seen. It was great. Mom was behind the counter making sandwiches, and Pop was out sweeping the floor or ringing up orders. A friendly couple with a clean and well-run shop. While we were eating, we watched a small group of people admire the new boat on top of the 4Runner, and speculated about their conversation.

We got back to town in time to go to the Bellevue Botanical Garden for a short time before going back to the hotel to change for the concert. There were far more things to see than we had time to truly appreciate. The place was teeming with photographers:



which made for a fun photo-op. There were others, as well, but they weren't as picturesque. There was nifty rock sculpture:





And a fun bronze frog . . .



whose name was . . .



There were blossoms . . .



and growing things . . .



(these chartreuse growing things seemed to really be going at it) . . .





. . . and there was a water garden that made for some very pretty shots.


[Download a large version here.]


[Download a large version here.]

And there was a 12' blooming shrub that immediately transported you to heavenly places where sweetly spiced vanilla breezes spirited your cares away. (No, really. It smelled That Good.) I've got to get a few of these to plant beneath my windows.



My guess is some kind of viburnum. It was sublime. Absolutely sublime.

And, my favorite picture of the afternoon: tulips.


[Download a big version here.]

This shot came in a close second.



The curators of the botanical garden couldn't have set that one up any better. I see a weathered garden bench flanked by aged terra cotta pots in my future . . . .

All too soon we headed back to the hotel, changed into slightly more appropriate clothing for the main reason for our trip: Jennifer Thomas's Key of Sea concert. You can see several of the things she played in the middle link. There are videos further down on the right hand side of her MySpace page. It was a lot of fun, and reminded me of how much I absolutely love live piano music. Jennifer's mom, Carolyn Southworth, played one of her pieces that night, as well: Where Eagles Soar. You can listen to it at her MySpace page. The best part of that song, though, was getting to see her play it. There's so much that's lost when you can only hear music. I didn't take the camera with us, partly because we walked to the concert, and partly because I wasn't sure I'd be brave enough to take pictures. Maybe next time I'll have a smaller camera, and won't feel so self-conscious.

After the concert, we drove into Seattle to see Vern's best friend from high school, Ben. He and his wife, Vijaya, live in a wonderful old home near one of Seattle's main strips, and live a life I dream of: eating out almost every night. (No dishes, no prep . . . just sit down and food appears. Heaven.) They both work in the software industry, currently from home, and are a short walk from a number of really good restaurants. We walked down to an excellent Thai place and had some of the best food I've ever eaten. Fresh and high quality, and expertly prepared, served with a quiet efficiency I have never seen before. It was wonderful. We went back and talked for a couple hours, and it was a really nice visit. Vern and Ben haven't had much contact since school, and I'm hoping that they'll keep in touch more. Ben has just accepted a position with a company that does virtual application demos on the web, and will be relocating to India sometime in May to start. He and Vijaya were married in India, in a traditional ceremony. Considering that Ben is a tall, broad, fair & red-headed American boy, that's quite the accomplishment. We were able to see photos of the wedding, and I got to ask all kinds of questions. I loved it. :o) And, once again, I forgot the camera. So, no photos of their home, of them, or of us and them. Next time. I'll try to remember next time. (Why is it I'm great at still lifes, but lousy when it comes to people?)

We made it back to the hotel and crashed by 1:30am, and then were on our way before lunchtime the next day. (Which was quite an accomplishment, considering that Vern and I were both sick.) The drive home was uneventful, but it had it's high points. For starters, Snowqualmie Pass was nice to look at.



This is Lake Kachess. It had that exposed high mountain lake feel to it.

The sky over the basalt plains in central Washington almost made up for the barrenness of the land.


[Download a large version here.]

And there was comic relief at each and every rest stop:



We laughed as we pictured travelers waging mighty battle, laptops/pda's in hand, vying for the precious 4 square feet of ground directly in front of the sign that had wireless access.

And, a more familiar shot from near home:



You have to see that intersection to believe it. :o)

Hope you all had a wonderful weekend, too!

The world truly has gone mad.

Bonkers. Completely and totally insane.

6-year-olds Under Arrest

And people think I'm the crazy one for teaching them myself.

Back

We're back . . . and I'm sick with a sinus infection. So, please bear with me. Most of today will be consumed with munchkin care and nose blowing. I'll have fun pics and such up soon. Meanwhile, enjoy your health. ;o)

Off for the weekend . . .

It's a surprise. :o) Pictures and stories on Monday.

Have a great one!

My Lace: Forest Canopy Shoulder Shawl

Since I gave you a teaser earlier, I thought I'd divulge a few details about the FCSS I've started. Here's a current progress shot:



In the beginning, I thought I would be clever and do a lace swatch from the outside of the ball. I usually leave my swatches attached to the ball, and frog them after I'm done with them (they call me Ebeneeza Yarnover). So, I figured that instead of having a bunch of yarn pulled from the center of my neat ball, I'd use yarn from the outside, and then wind it back around. Well, I failed to take conscious note of Susan's comment from the pattern on the lace swatching step:

"When I knit small, top-down triangle shawls like this one, I use the shawl itself as my second gauge swatch."

When I had completed the setup rows and first pattern repeat, I liked what I saw, and didn't want to rip it out. So, I kept on going, using yarn from the outside of the ball. Perfectionist that I am, this bothered me. (Don't ask why. I don't have a good reason.) So, after bending some gray matter toward a resolution, this was my solution:



Yep. A broccoli rubber band (just the right size to hold the edges of the folded lace shawllette against the ball winder core). I wondered if it would work . . .



And it did. It held on beautifully while I wound the ball from the outside, even leaving enough room at the top for the rubber band to keep from being incorporated into the yarn ball itself. So, as a nod to the old junior high sentiments:



♥ Ball winder + broccoli band = BFF ♥

And now, back to our regularly planned blog entry . . .

For the most part, I'm enjoying working on the FCSS. I can't say I've done a whole lot of knitting, per se, since I've tinked or frogged just about as many rows as I've knit. However, I've learned a few very valuable lessons:

1. I agree whole-heartedly with Stephanie about variegated yarns and lacework . . . with one exception: your first lace project. Having different colors throughout the work makes it a LOT easier to tell one row from another, and to identify mistakes. (Let's see . . . I know I've got the right number of stitches on the yellow/peach/orange row . . . so I must have missed something after that.)

2. I'm afraid I don't agree with Susan on the use of metal needles in lacework. I've tried valiantly to use bamboo (of which I have a nice suitable assortment), but I can't stand knitting on anything that doesn't allow the stitches to slide freely. Maybe someday I'll invest in some especially expensive and slippery hardwood needles (maybe some Lantern Moon ebony circulars, hmmm?), but for now, it's Knit Picks for me. If I'm careful, I don't have any trouble due to the metal. And when I'm not careful, I don't have trouble due to the metal, either. And I do love the sllllllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiide. It's like knitting on air.

3. Tradititonal lifelines don't appeal to me--the idea of pulling even something as smooth as mercerized cotton crochet thread through a delicately knitted something (even when the fiber is a smooth, super-soft merino) is just not appealing. However, I've used a modified version (which I'm sure has been "discovered" before this) that I really like:



A US2 32" circular. Because the wrong side rows are all purled, it's easy to pick up a row of knitting to protect it when you need to frog a few rows (as I'll be doing when I get back to the lace). Due to the variegation, it's even easy to pick up lace rows, once you get the hang of it. As you can see above, I've picked up the right leg of each stitch (including yo's), and can frog neatly back to that row. Then I just knit off of the little needle and I'm back in business. This time I'm frogging due to somehow putting in an extra yarnover. (Maybe I'm subconsciously reading my knitting already, and saw the yo's below . . . but I'm not sure that's a good thing. lol) I laddered down and took out the extra stitch--but there was no way I could get all of the slack out of the stitches. Frog pond, here I come.

And now, off to work on my grocery list for next week. (Romantic, I know . . . but there's nothing that says "I love you" like home cooked meals. :o)

Have a great weekend!

Startitis

It seems that I have a touch of startitis. That last post should have been some indication, but it took me a while to identify it. I've only started two new projects since the cardi collapse, but it sure has been fun ogling plenty of others.

Here's where startitis has gotten me:

Socks for the Anderman:



And a lace project (Susan's FCSS):



So far, so good. I've been resisting the urge to start a huge pile of things (although I did do a swatch with some Knit Picks Shadow in Vineyard for the Spring Things Shawl (okay, okay, I bought the pattern because my LYS had the Shadow for 50% off! I'm guilty; but can you blame me?). Let me tell you, stockinette swatches with lace yarn are the least satisfying of any swatches I've ever done. Sure, they're good for letting you know whether your finished lace project will be anything like the original . . . but they sure do look funny.

In other news, I did finish the baby's socks earlier this week. She absolutely adores them, which warms my little mothering heart. There was even a touch of serendipity to the random way I ended the ribbing halfway down the instep: the end of the ribbing matches up with the beginning of the toe of her Mary Janes:



I've decided that I need to knit a lot more socks for her--and that she needs more Mary Janes. Handknit socks and MJ's are a match made in heaven. :o)

Infatuation

So, what do you do when you see at least five really beautiful projects that you want to knit? Right. Now. ? ? ? ?

Since the crushing cardi incident earning that project a time out it its ziploc, I've been out trolling. Yesterday I started the Forest Canopy Shoulder Shawl, but didn't get far because I had too many interruptions. (Never try to knit lace with kids or husbands about. It's completely useless. No, worse than useless. You do more tinking/lifeline ripping/chart re-reading than you do knitting. Torturous.)

So, in the face of that, I've "come across" several things I'd soooo love to knit. (Well, more like hunted out beautiful things like yarn-starved knitters descending on an LYS clearance sale, but let's not belabor the point, hmmm?)

{Sigh} If only I had time and funds to just do them all!

1. Simply Marilyn.

I love the fit and style of this sweater. Oh, and the color. I'd do this purple, or a deep burgundy shade of wine. Something that looks good enough to eat. DH loves cream, but I just can't wear it right now without looking something akin to a schoolbus. So I'll pass until I lose another few.

2. Lady Eleanor.

Need I mention that I love Jess's style? I mostly lurk over at her blog, but I just love the colors she chooses and her FO's. Gorgeous. This looks like an entrelac project that I could handle. I've been shy of entrelac after Stephanie's vehement rejection thereof, but this looks gorgeous. (And picking up stitches in worsted is MUCH easier than in sock yarn.)

3. Rogue.

I'm not nearly as cute as the model, but I can dream, right? ;o) I'm just so tempted by something that looks so incredibly warm and cozy. (And it'll stay on without any effort on my part--handy with four munchkins around.) I'd love to knit this one out of some Targhee: soft as Merino, but springy as Corriedale or Coopworth. Love the stuff.

4. The Not-So-Shrunken Cardigan

I just discovered Knit and Tonic today by following a link in a a blog linked from Yarn Harlot's Ann Arbor saga. (My heart just about broke for Stephanie today. She's amazing. If I had been through what she had to go through to get to Ann Arbor, I wouldn't have made it. My body would have given up completely long before lunchtime. Huge kudos to you, Steph.)

5. The Spring Things Shawl.

There's even a knitalong for it already. I have 100g of gorgeous Knit Picks merino laceweight that's almost as soft as the alpaca lace I bought on impulse that same day. Just springier.

I'm wondering if I should rip out the little beginnings of the Forest Canopy Shoulder Shawl I've got and go download the Spring Things pattern tonight. Or is there still a FCSS knitalong somewhere? I'll have to Google . . .

Oh Horror!*

I've been knitting happily on a sweater for the baby in Knit Picks Crayon, held double (not as difficult as I'd feared). I've been cranking away on the raglan decreases during my scant knitting time over the last two days, and was pretty excited today because I could tell I was getting close. After I read over the instructions for back neck shaping, I started to figure how many sleeve stitches I needed to keep on the needles, and (oh fateful moment) count live stitches.

There were four more stitches over the right shoulder than there were over the left, an odd number of back stitches (when I started out with an even number), and three fewer stitches in the left front than the right front. Snot.

While I was sleeping, those darn stitches went out dancing, and failed to put themselves back properly. I just knew it. They were probably drinking, too. Reprobates.

So, I started trying to figure out what went wrong, and where.

From p 73 of Knitting Without Tears:

"Now mark four points where the body and the sleeves join. Place safety pins at these four points. . . . Put safety pin markers in the 1st and 84th stitches of back and of front."

I used stitch markers, thinking that the methods used for the top-down raglans I've knit for two of the other children would work just as well for a bottom-up raglan. I should have never dared dally with the heady pride that seduced me into thinking that I know better how to knit a raglan than Elizabeth Zimmerman. I realized after a few decrease rounds that I had worked the decreases slightly differently at the front left marker than elsewhere. I thought I had fixed it, but obviously I was mistaken. Sadly mistaken.

So, I knitted back to the offending spot, and proceeded to rip back the rows over the misplaced decreases. It looked like fuzzy periwinkle spaghetti found in an old cottage cheese container in the back of the fridge. I did my best to knit it back up, and thought quite a number of times that I really needed to snap a few shots for the blog (for this was definitely a blogworthy knitterly event). But I just couldn't bring myself to go get the camera. Or, more properly speaking, I couldn't get myself to put the poor thing down.

Just a few minutes ago, I knit up the last row of ripped stitches and surveyed what I managed to get back together. You can see for yourself:



The decreases are now reasonably placed (the sleeve stitches are within one stitch--which fudging I could handle). But they're chop suey. Uneven stitches (cotton yarn, anyone?), strange holes and decreases that slant outward. K2tog isn't supposed to slant left, but I managed to do that here. I really offended EZ's guardian angel, didn't I. {sigh}

I've been so excited to finish this, and wrap the baby in this cloud-soft cardigan. It snowed today, and blew and blew . . . . . the prospect of frogging That Much Knitting is a little more than I can bear right now. Knitting that much cotton again.

It's clear from the picture that I either need to frog the entire decrease portion, or try ripping back those decrease stitches yet again and seeing if I can't somehow "fix them better" this time.

Any ideas?** I'm all ears.

Meanwhile, I'm going to go start some socks.


*Uttered by Frederick (Rex Smith) in the cinema version of The Pirates of Penzance when he realizes that he must betray the father of his beloved Ruth. One of the most hilarious musicals ever made--but sadly not yet available on DVD. Head on over to Amazon and put in your email to be notified when it's available, would you? It's like a vote towards getting Amazon to pursue offering a DVD version for sale.

**I'm fully aware that I don't have any readers yet. (Well, Vern has a feed, but he doesn't knit. ;o) So, I figure I'll just pretend for now, and someday when I have blog readers, they can read my archives while they knit on stockinette they can't avoid.

The Mail is Here! The Mail is Here! Oooooo!!!!

The Book has arrived. Long awaited, Amazon-delayed, and here. I'm off to read . . . and knit in it's honor. ;o)

(** Let's have a contest to see who can name the character who said quote in the subject line. Email me your guesses; please don't leave them in the comments. ;o)

The Neatest Trick

For quite some time I've been wondering how in the world I could create pdf files. So, I went faithfully to Google, and requested an answer. The pdf of my pattern is the result.

I learned one can "print" to pdf using CutePDF Writer. You also need a copy of this for some reason. (I don't know why, but it works, so I'm not complaining.) Just download and install both. It takes less than two minutes; they're small apps. (Hooray!) Then, when you want to "save" something in a stable and universal format, just select "CutePDF Writer" from your printer list, and voila! You're in business.

Did I mention that this is now my favorite way to save web pages? Genius. (Not me, the folks over at Acro Software, Inc.) So, when I come across a knitting pattern that I really like, such as Amy King's Baby Keep Your Socks On, I can save it as a pdf instead of trying to cajole my laser printer to not include the graphics.

Sometimes, modern technology can be bent to good uses, can't it? ;o)